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Heaving himself upright, he stalked into the bathroom to shower and shave, then donned the second set of clothes he’d ordered for himself yesterday. While he dressed, he stee
led himself to do what he was going to have to do if she continued to be stubborn.
Damn woman! He couldn’t understand the wall of resistance she erected each time he mentioned marriage.
Walking back into the bedroom, he said, “I’ll ask you one more time. Elizabeth, will you please marry me?”
She was looking out the window, clad only in a sheer dressing gown; all he could see was her profile as her lips formed the word, “No.”
He sighed. “Then you leave me no choice.” He walked across the room and picked up the telephone. Fishing his wallet out of the pants he’d flung across a chair the night before, he extracted a piece of paper and started punching in the numbers.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling your father.”
“My father!” She turned her head and glared at him. “Put that telephone down.”
He ignored her.
“Why are you calling my father?”
“To tell him that you’re pregnant with my child, and you won’t marry me even though I’ve begged you to.” He knew it was harsh, but he sensed that there was no other way to force her to agree, and he was determined. His child was going to have his name, and Elizabeth was never leaving him again.
“No!” Her response sounded so agonized that Rafe had to steel himself not to take her in his arms again and comfort her.
Slowly he replaced the receiver and turned to face her. “Why not?”
Elizabeth swallowed. Her gaze was still defiant, but he sensed the decisiveness draining away from her and gradually her defiance changed to a sad acceptance. “I’ll marry you,” she said quietly. “Just don’t tell my parents.”
“You’re going to have to tell them sometime.”
“I know.” She shook her head and looked away. “You don’t understand. I should be the one to tell them.”
“All right.” He eyed her. “We’ll go get married.”
“What? You mean today?” She rounded on him and her face went slack with shock for a moment. Then almost as quickly, the fire that he was beginning to recognize lay just beneath the surface of her ladylike demeanor flashed in her eyes. “You had this planned all along,” she accused. “Even before I got on that plane yesterday morning, you intended to force me to marry you today. Didn’t you? Didn’t you?” she demanded when he remained silent.
Rafe regarded her for a moment, lightning bolts zinging his way from those emerald eyes. Finally he raised both hands in surrender. “I hadn’t decided for sure, but after last night there isn’t any reason why we shouldn’t get married. I told you I mean my child to be legitimate. I’m prepared to do whatever I have to do to ensure that this baby never has to question his rightful heritage.”
She all but sneered. “Noble words for a man who’s turned his back on his own heritage.”
The barb was a direct hit. “Bull.”
“Hah.” She crossed her arms and regarded him scornfully. “You’re afraid to face your own family. The one time you were near your home in more than a decade, you came incognito and didn’t even speak to your parents before sneaking off.”
“I’m not afraid of my family,” he said, feeling rage welling up from a hidden cache deep in his mind. His lip curled. “They’ve already done everything they can to make me buckle under and it hasn’t worked.”
Her face lit with the curiosity he was beginning to realize was an integral—if damned annoying—part of her personality. “What did they do?”
“Never mind.” He knew he sounded like a surly schoolboy, but the memories bombarding him made him feel like a child again as he relived some of the scenes he’d endured with his father.
I never said he wasn’t a nice boy. But he’s the butcher’s son. Hardly a suitable companion for you, Raphael. I’ve already explained to his family that the friendship simply cannot continue.
With an effort, he shook off the voices from his past, focusing on the woman who would be his future. “Just be dressed and ready to go in thirty minutes.”
“I’m having breakfast and taking a shower first,” she said. “I’m not going to rush around just so you can be on whatever little schedule you have planned.”
“Fine. Will sixty minutes be enough?”
