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‘But I—’
‘Silence.’
His anger filled the car, as icy as the blizzard outside, making her shiver. If she let out a breath, she was sure she’d be able to see it.
‘You have known for months and youhidit. You were going to marry my brother and passmychild off as his.’ His hard mouth, that had felt so warm and soft beneath hers, that had given her so much pleasure, twisted in a sneer. ‘Did you want him to be the father? Did you have doubts about me? Is that why didn’t tell me you were pregnant?’
‘No!’ She curled her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. His assumption that she’d doubt him hurt, but she knew she had no one to blame for that but herself. ‘I didn’t tell you, because I was afraid. Because I was engaged to your brother and Santa Castelia needed the marriage.’
The fury in his eyes didn’t change. ‘How unfortunate for us both then that I discovered your little secret.’ He leaned forward very slightly, his terrible gaze sharp as a scimitar, cutting right through her soul. ‘But don’t worry. Regardless of my feelings on the subject, it’s not going to stay a secret much longer. Not when from now on you and the baby are mine.’
She’d gone white as a sheet and, deep inside him, Rafael felt something shift. But he ignored it. He was too angry with her to feel any kind of sympathy.
Not only had she hidden her pregnancy from him for months, if what she’d said was true then that night it hadn’t even been him she’d been looking for.
She’d been looking for his brother.
For three months he’d watched the wedding preparations, fighting not only the jealousy that dogged him, but also the desire that burned in his blood whenever she was near. Consoling himself with the knowledge that, though she was marrying Matias, it had been him she’d come to that night.
It had been him she’d wanted.
But, no, apparently not.
The only thing she’d wanted was to forget him.
His anger was a bonfire, but he knew the dangers so he froze it solid, turning it to sharp ice. Anger could be a good fuel if used prudently and he was nothing if not prudent. His whole life had been built on it.
And while she might have turned that life upside down, he wasn’t going to let her cause any more damage than she already had. Someone had to fix it and he was nothing if not good at fixing things.
He shouldn’t have taken such a drastic course of action, but she’d forced him into it. By not telling him about her pregnancy, he’d only had a week or so to investigate and even then he’d only learned about the results of the paternity test a mere hour before the wedding.
That had left him with only one option. He had to stop her from marrying Matias any way he could. Unfortunately, his anger had got the better of him and he’d stopped the wedding in the most disruptive way possible.
Yet what else could he have done? Matias hadn’t known about her pregnancy, Rafael was positive. And this was a mess that he’d made himself. He couldn’t allow his brother to take responsibility for something that was none of his doing. He couldn’t allow any doubt to be cast on the heir to the throne either, not after the scandals of their father’s reign.
And apart from all that, Lia’s baby was also his and he would not allow another man to claim it, even if that man was his brother.
He’d had no intention of having children, not after his own bleak upbringing, but now that decision had been taken out of his hands, he knew he couldn’t let his own child grow up without someone to set them a good example. Not with the genes they’d no doubt inherited.
His own father, King Carlos, had been known for his baser appetites and profligate ways. Rafael, after all, had been a direct product of that appetite, his mother a hotel chambermaid. He’d been brought up in a one-roomed apartment in Barcelona and while he and his mother hadn’t lived in dire poverty, they hadn’t been far from it. Carlos had paid nothing for his upkeep and Rafael had had no contact with him, except every so often when his father would demand an exclusive audience at one of his residences.
His mother had always been very against him seeing Carlos, but his father had given neither of them a choice. He’d insisted on Rafael’s presence, though always in secret since his father wouldn’t acknowledge him openly. Awkward meetings where Carlos, depending on his mood, would either heap praise on him for doing well, or barely speak to him at all.
Once, when he’d been twelve, Rafael had asked him what the purpose of these visits was since it was clear that Carlos didn’t have any feeling for him.
‘Just because I don’t acknowledge my mistakes doesn’t mean I can’t learn from them,’ his father had responded coldly.
As if Rafael had needed more confirmation of his own status. He knew he was a mistake. His mother had been quite clear about that.
Regardless, he would never put any child of his through that. Never,ever.
Rafael had always prided himself on his control—he’d never be profligate with his affairs as Carlos had been—but controlled was the last thing he’d been when Lia had come to his bed.
He’d made a mistake, it was true. But unlike Carlos he owned that mistake. He took responsibility for it.
So he would claim his child. He would acknowledge them. They would be his and not a mistake to be buried and forgotten about. Or viewed whenever the mood took him. He would be a better father than his own had ever been.
Lia’s blue eyes had darkened, her face still as white as her gown.
