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‘Of course I know him, and he owns this building. Here you are on Petronides ground. I thought better of Angelos. I didn’t think he’d get involved in hiding my wife from me, but now that he has—’
‘No, he hasn’t!’ Polly protested vehemently. ‘I’ve never even met Maxie’s husband! I asked her to help me find somewhere to stay and she brought me here—said they needed someone to look after the place. Maxie’s certainly not aware that you know Angelos. And, as I asked her to be discreet, she’s only told Angelos that she has an old friend staying here for a while...’
As her voice faltered to a halt, she experienced the feeling that she had already lost Raul’s full attention. As his dark golden gaze roamed over her scantily clad figure, Polly suddenly became intensely conscious of the revealing nature of her nightgown, the delicate straps which exposed her bare shoulders, the sheer lace covering her breasts, the light, clinging fabric which outlined her once-again-slim hips and slender thighs for his appraisal.
As the silence which had seemed to come out of nowhere pulsed, Polly felt her breasts swell with languorous heaviness. Her nipples pinched tight, as if a current of fire had touched them. As she folded her arms over herself in mortified discomfiture, she snapped, ‘Has anybody ever told you that it’s very rude to stare?’
The silence lay still and impenetrable as glass.
And then Raul flung his darkly handsome head back and laughed with a rich spontaneity that shook Polly. Laughter put to flight his gravity, throwing his innate charisma to the fore. Her heart lurched. She tried to give him a reproving look, needing him to show her a mood she recognised and stay in it long enough for her to respond accordingly. But at that moment she was like a novice actress without a script and unable to improvise.
‘You’ve gone from voluptuously ripe and enticing to sinfully, sexily slender,’ Raul murmured with husky amusement. ‘And you think it’s rude that I should stare at my own wife?’
A deep flush lit Polly’s fair skin. She didn’t know where to look, but was pretty sure she was not going to look back at him while he was saying things like that Sinfully, sexily slender? Now she knew what Maxie had meant when she had criticised Raul for giving her conflicting messages. An impersonal and detached relationship had to have firm boundaries. Raul had been both impersonal and detached after their wedding, politely concerned that she should be comfortable and content, but nothing more. He had made no attempt to behave like a normal husband who had a relationship with the mother of his child.
And then Polly called herself an idiot. Here she was, wondering why Raul was behaving so strangely! But wouldn’t most men react differently to a woman standing around half-naked in front of them? Hot colour flooded her cheeks at that obvious explanation.
‘I’ll go and put something on and then we can talk,’ Polly muttered in a rush.
‘Let me see Luis first,’ Raul countered, moving closer to catch her hand and check her before she could move.
‘You’re not still annoyed with Maxie’s husband, are you?’ Polly asked anxiously as she took him down the corridor.
‘I have a certain tolerance for a man plunged unsuspecting into an embarrassing situation by his bride,’ Raul imparted wryly. ‘Angelos is Greek, traditional as they come. He’d come down on his wife like a ton of bricks if he realised that she’d been helping to hide my wife and child from me!’
‘It wasn’t like that—’
‘Only violence or abuse on my part would justify such interference between a man and his wife.’
Was that the third or the fourth time that Raul had referred to her as his wife in as many minutes? Polly thought abstractedly. After three weeks of telling herself that their marriage was a pathetic charade, it seemed so odd to have Raul referring to her in such terms.
‘Raul...I really needed some time and space to think,’ she murmured tautly.
Raul released her hand. ‘You’ve had months to think without me around.’
But their relationship had changed radically in recent weeks, Polly wanted to protest in frustration as she watched him fluidly cross the elegant guest room to where Luis lay in his cradle. Their marriage had been one of reckless haste, entered into without proper consideration or adequate discussion.
She hadn’t simply taken umbrage and run away; she had known that ultimately she would have to face Raul again and deal with the situation.
But in her distress and turmoil she had been in no fit state to confront a male who had a naturally domineering and powerful personality—and, worst of all, a male who h
ad everything to gain from putting pressure on her to still accompany him to Venezuela. She had known she had to have time to think away from Raul before she decided what to do next.
Raul sent her a cool, assessing glance. ‘I’ve known Digby all my life. What you heard was a private conversation with a friend. I imagine you and your friend Maxie have been less than charitable about me on at least one recent occasion...’
Unprepared for that embarrassingly accurate stab, Polly was betrayed by the burning wave of colour which swept up her throat.
‘Exactly,’ Raul purred with rich satisfaction, removing his attention from her to study his infant son, who was squirming into wakefulness. ‘Do you see me getting all worked up about a fact of life? Could you see me writing three vitriolic pages and vanishing into thin air on such slender proof of intent as the mood of a moment?’
‘No, but—’
‘There is no “but”,’ Raul broke in with derision. ‘Only women behave like that. Rod thought it might be the baby blues, or some such thing! I knew better.’
‘I was in the wrong...I should’ve confronted you,’ Polly conceded tightly, heart-shaped face fixed in a mutinous expression, revealing the struggle it was to voice those words of contrition.
‘Instead of throwing a tantrum on paper,’ Raul emphasised, subjecting her to a hard, steady appraisal. ‘Because I warn you now, I will never, ever allow you to be in a position again where you can use our son as a weapon against me.’
At that opportune moment, Luis mustered his lungs into a cross little cry for attention. Pale and tant now, in receipt of that menacing warning, Polly was grateful for the opportunity to turn away. But Raul reached his son first, sweeping him up with complete confidence. Smiling down at Luis, he talked to him in soft, soothing Spanish.
