Page 29 of Claiming His Wife

'Because.'

Cassie sucked in a long breath. Her whole body was shaking with inner tension. She didn't think she could take much more.

'Because what?'

Another dredging sigh, then Cassie spilled out edgily, 'Because even though we were getting along fine and the sex was great, he hadn't said a word about loving me or wanting me with him perma­nently. So far as I knew, he still expected me to leave at the end of the three months—he never said a single thing to make me believe anything else. As it happened,' she tacked on stiffly, 'he as good as gave me my marching orders well before then—as soon as he heard Delfina was no longer a problem.'

'All that tells me is that both of you are hopeless when it comes to communication. It doesn't tell me why he doesn't know he's about to be a father,' the other woman pointed out drily.

'If I'd told him about the baby he would have insisted I stay. I do know that much!' Cassie bit down on her trembling lower lip. 'Can't you under­stand? I needed him to want me for my own sake, not because I was carrying his baby. He wants an heir. And you know him—if I'd refused to stay on permanently because I couldn't bear to stay married to a man who couldn't love me, he would have done everything he could to get custody. I want this baby!'

His child.

'It's his baby, too,' Cindy pointed out. 'You have to tell him.'

'He thinks it's Guy's.'

'Then you'll have to tell him it isn't, won't you?' Cindy stood up, pointing out firmly, 'You're under­standably upset, and in no mood to think straight. But believe me, Roman does love you. Why else would he have asked you to go back to him? But my stupid brother went and put his foot in it. No big deal—just a minor spanner in the works. It's up to you to get everything running smoothly again.'

Cindy had offered to come to Las Colinas Verdes with her for moral support. Now, drawing the hired car up in front of the large stone-built farmhouse at the heart of the sprawling estate, Cassie wished she'd accepted her offer.

It was almost dark. The wind blowing from the distant mountains carried an autumnal chill. She shivered, but the palms of her hands were clammy with sweat.

After Cindy had left her, a couple of evenings ago, she had eventually emerged from her traumatised state and everything had seemed so simple.

Follow Roman back to Spain and tell him the truth.

The baby was his, not Guy's.

Despite the way things had looked, he would be­lieve her—surely he would? After all, he must have missed her, missed the closeness they'd shared, thought things over and regretted having told her to go. He must have done; there could be no other rea­son for his coming to England, asking her to come back to him.

Simple. The outcome a foregone happy conclu­sion. She'd felt so sure of herself, and of him, that she'd told her boss at the bookshop that she wouldn't be returning; given up the bed-sit; burned all her bridges.

Now, within moments of coming face to face with his clothes from the hanging cupboard by the dim light, tossing them haphazardly into an open suitcase. Hers, the clothes he had insisted on buying her all those weeks ago, were in a pile on the bed. A huge lump formed in her throat.

Without missing a beat, without turning, he said, 'If you've come for your things, you needn't have bothered. Teresa returns tomorrow, I was going to ask her to pack them up and send them on.'

He did turn then, slowly. The light from the lamp picked out his features, emphasising a new and dis­quieting harshness. He was wearing a white shirt tucked into slate-grey trousers; it made his skin look dark by contrast, his eyes black and unforgiving.

She swallowed convulsively and blurted, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, 'How did you know it was me? It could have been anyone—a burglar!'

'I knew,' he said, almost uninterestedly. 'And "burglar" fits. You stole something from me, and I don't for a moment think you've come to give it back.'

A mind like a maze didn't come near describing his tortuous thought processes. She'd left here taking only the things she'd brought with her! But now wasn't the time to ask why he was adding theft to the long list of things he'd stacked up against her.

He gave her a last, penetrating look from beneath his brows, his mouth a hard, straight line, then closed the open suitcase with his foot, bent to fasten it and straightened up again.

He was leaving, she thought, panicking, as he hefted the heavy case and strode towards the door where she was standing. As far as he was concerned she didn't even merit the title of unfinished business. Her heart gave a violent twist of anguish. It couldn't end liked this—she wouldn't let it!

'We need to talk.' Her voice sounded ragged. Cassie stood her ground, though. If he wanted to go through that door he would have to lift her bodily off her feet. And she was getting the distinct im­pression that touching her in any way at all was the last thing he wanted to have to do.

'Why?' The question was flat. But he did stop, keeping distance between them, his eyes coldly dis­missive.

First things first. Conscious for the first time of her travel-stained clothes, her hair all over the place, her possibly manic appearance, she levelled her voice and told him, 'I was at Las Colinas earlier this eve­ning. Roy said it was common knowledge by now that you intend to sell up. Everything.'

One

black brow tilted upwards fractionally. 'And you followed me all the way down here? Por dios! you must be eager. For the clothes you left behind? Or were you intending to wheedle your way back into my life via the bedroom? Decided you prefer living in luxury in Spain to sharing a flat with your lover?'

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