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Shock had unsettled her stomach. She had been sick during the flight, convincing Raul that she had caught some bug. He could not have been more caring and concerned had she developed a life-threatening illness. And she couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear him near her, yet couldn’t bear him out of her sight either for fear of what he might be doing or even thinking.
Listening to Raul on the phone to Melina D’Agnolo had shattered her. Now, as he carried her past the superb flower arrangements which had appeared everywhere, and the frantically busy staff excited about the party which kicked off the weekend festivities, Polly felt like the weakest of the weak. No way was she going to be lying in bed this evening like a party pooper while Melina held the floor!
Raul set her upright in their bedroom. Confront him, screamed through her mind in letters of taunting fire. She walked over to the windows, torn by conflicting desires. She wanted to see them together first. She wanted to confront them. If she tried to confront Raul now, what did she base her accusations on? His appreciation of Melina’s loyalty? Or that simple sentence ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight’?
It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t evidence of anything he couldn’t explain away. But the very fact he had been on the phone talking to Melina like that...it ripped Polly apart. She had genuinely trusted him, sincerely come to believe that it was only her own insecurity which was tormenting her...
‘Do you think a married man needs a mistress?’ she asked abruptly.
Silence stretched.
Polly spun round. Raul looked slightly bemused, a frown line etched between his expressive brows. Then a splintering smile slashed his beautiful mouth. ‘Not if he spends as much time in bed with his wife as I do!’
‘It was a serious question, Raul.’
‘Only not a very sensible one. With my background, the answer would be absolutely not. A divorce would be a better option,’ Raul drawled reflectively.
Having invited that opinion, Polly’s stomach curdled. She turned back to the windows on unsteady legs.
‘Is there something you want to discuss with me?’ Raul enquired in smooth invitation.
‘Nothing.’ Not without proof. She wasn’t about to risk tearing their marriage apart without proper proof.
‘I have this feeling that something is playing on your mind...it’s not the first time I’ve had it.’
Taken aback by that assurance, Polly linked her unsteady hands tightly together and stared out of the window, seeing nothing. She might as well have been staring into space. Raul strolled to her side and followed the apparent path of her gaze.
Patrick Gorman was giving instructions to a group of workmen who were stringing up extra lighting in the gardens below.
‘If I was the jealous type,’ Raul breathed with sudden startling rawness, ‘I’d go down there and kill him because you’re looking at him!’
Polly focused on Patrick for the first time in complete bewilderment, like someone who had missed a crucial sentence that made sense of inexplicable behaviour. ‘I wasn’t looking at him...why would I want to look at him, for heaven’s sake?’
Raul punched the button that closed the curtains with what struck her as quite unnecessary force. Polly surveyed him. A devastatingly handsome male in a seething rage. She blinked. He strode out of the room without a backward glance.
He’s jealous of Patrick. Polly slowly shook her head at that strikingly obvious revelation. Why hadn’t she made that connection before? Right from the minute he had seen her chattering happily to the young Englishman Raul had been warning her off him. Yet how could he possibly be jealous of another man when he was planning to continue his affair with Melina?
But then wasn’t that men the world over? she reflected with newly learnt cynicism. Some men only valued a woman when another man admired her, or when they thought that they themselves were no longer desired. And then a man could be possessive without loving. Which category did Raul fall into? Or was it simply that, as his wife, he now regarded her in the light of a possession?
She sank down on the edge of the bed, dry-eyed but pale as milk. Was Melina simply a habit with Raul? When he had told her that he appreciated her loyalty what had he meant? Had he been thanking her for patiently waiting for him? Did he honestly think he had a hope in hell of continuing such an affair without being found out?
The door opened again. Raul hovered for a split second, as if somewhat unsure of his welcome, and then extended his hand to her, one of his sudden flashing smiles driving all reserve from his lean bronzed features. ‘We have a visitor, gatita.’ he announced. ‘My grandfather is here.’
Fidelio Navarro was stationed in the hall, curling his hat round and round between strained hands. Polly hurried down the stairs to greet him, breaking the ice by going straight up to him and leaning forward to kiss him on both cheeks, as one did with family members. He smiled and relaxed perceptibly while Raul translated her welcome with the air of a male grateful for the distraction.
Upstairs, Polly lifted Luis out of his cot and laid him in Fidelio’s sturdy arms. The old man heaved a giant sigh and slowly shook his silvered head, openly overcome by the sight of his great-grandson.
‘He says...Luis has my mother’s eyes,’ Raul translated gruffly.
Fidelio’s eyes swam, his mouth tightening, his emotions too near the surface for him to say anything more. Polly accepted Luis back and looked at Raul hovering, her own gaze expectant. ‘You go and have a celebration drink and talk now,’ she instructed, knowing she had to spell it all out, afraid that, left to his own devices, Raul might duck the issue and take grateful refuge in polite conversation. ‘You’ll talk about your mother...and how much you loved her, and how good things are going to be now in this family. ’
‘Sí...’ Raul dug his clenched fists tautly into his trouser pockets and bent his imperious dark head, swallowing hard.
Fidelio and Raul walked out of the room together about a foot apart.
Polly drew in a slow, deep breath and said a prayer that with a little give and take on both sides the barriers would finally come down between the two men. The older man needed to be completely sure of his welcome in this house. Without that confidence, he wouldn’t visit again.
Two hours later, from the vantage point of an upper window, she watched Fidelio wrap his arms round Raul and hug him fiercely before he climbed back onto his horse outside the house. A tide of relief rolled over her. Clearly Raul hadn’t backed off and stood on his dignity. She was satisfied then.
