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‘What’s happening?’ she whispered apprehensively.
‘Circe requires careful surgery but that will not take place until later when the requisite surgeon arrives. Her leg is fractured and she has concussion. It is safest for her to remain here under supervision for the present,’ he advised.
Claire nodded very slowly. ‘Is she likely to survive this?’
‘Assuming there are no further complications with the head injury.’
Claire swallowed thickly.
‘We will leave now,’ Raif decreed.
She wanted to ask if she could see Circe again, but didn’t want to make demands, and all the time she was frantically worrying about what all this veterinary attention and treatment would cost. Surgery here in Monte Carlo for an animal would not be cheap. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to pay for this,’ she mumbled shakily.
Raif reached for her hand. ‘That is not a concern you need consider.Myguest caused the injuries at my party. I cannot abide cruelty to animals,’ he bit out in a curt undertone. ‘I am responsible for ensuring that this situation is put right...as far as it can be.’
Claire tugged her chilled fingers free and whispered, ‘I can’t let you pay the bill. It wouldn’t be right.’
Raif sighed as he accompanied her outside where it seemed a whole fleet of vehicles awaited them. There were men standing about with earpieces, his security guards. She wondered absently where they had been hidden while he’d spent half the night with her. Bitter resentment and anger bubbled up through her again.
She was shown into another limousine and he slid in beside her, prompting her to move to the far end of the seat. Her hands twisted the folded kitchen apparel on her lap as the silence thickened.
‘Claire.’
Her head whipped round, blue eyes bright as sapphires with temper. ‘I’m not speaking to you. I don’t know you. I want nothing to do with you. I will do the job I was hired to do and hopefully our paths won’t cross again. Thankfully, we’ll be back in the UK in ten days.’
Even as she spoke, she was wondering how she could possibly adhere to her statement. She was pregnant with his child. She had to tell him, didn’t she? It wouldn’t be fair not to tell him, would it? It would be wrong to remain silent and her unborn baby deserved more consideration from her. Her teeth gritted.
Raif said nothing. She was entitled to her feelings even if they conflicted with his own. Unfortunately, life was not quite so simple and straightforward as she would like it to be, and he owed her an explanation for his behaviour.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘WHEREAREWE?’ Claire demanded abruptly as the limousine drove down a lane with a high concealing hedge and drew up outside a large white villa. She immediately blamed herself for getting so lost in her own thoughts that she had not even noticed where they were going. Of course, she hadn’t known they were travelling to anywhere other than back to the busy harbour and the yacht, so she had not paid attention.
‘This is my home in Monte Carlo. I want to speak to you, and it would be indiscreet to seek a private interview with you on theMahnoor,’ he pointed out. ‘Here we may talk in private without fear of awakening speculation.’
‘So, you’re kidnapping me to protect my reputation and yours,’ Claire deduced.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Clearly, you are angry with me.’
‘Gosh, you can really read the room, can’t you?’ she mocked with a toss of her head.
Raif forestalled further argument by getting out of the car. She thought about sitting on in the car alone like a truculent schoolgirl. Her cheeks reddened and as the door beside her opened, she climbed straight out.
‘Tea or coffee?’ Raif enquired politely as an older woman greeted him in the hall.
‘Tea...and a cloakroom?’ Claire asked stiltedly.
At the vanity unit of the very fancy cloakroom, she splashed her face, washed her hands and finger-combed her tousled hair. She leant on the sink and said a prayer for her pet’s well-being. The tears threatened to overflow again. She didn’t know what was wrong with her because she had never been someone who cried easily and yet recently the most foolish things could make her eyes water. It could be her surging hormones. She recalled her friend, Lottie’s tears while she was pregnant. Lottie had sworn that pregnancy had turned her into a watering pot. Claire sighed heavily and turned away from the unflattering mirror, knowing that she looked pale and drawn because she didn’t bother with make-up when she was in the galley preparing food as the heat only melted it off again and left her face streaky.
She walked back out to the hall and espied Raif standing in a plush drawing room furnished in opulent shades of cream and sage green. It looked as new as though nobody had ever set foot in it, sat on one of the sofas or so much as dared to crease a single cushion.
The older woman appeared with a tray and set it down on the coffee table. Claire looked at Raif and then wished she hadn’t because for a split second before he saw her, his expression was unguarded and his tension, his discomfiture showed. As the refreshments arrived, he unfroze and smiled at the woman, thanking her. It was his habit to make an effort to fit into any situation, she conceded heavily, remembering him inexpertly trying to wield a drying cloth at the cottage, trying to be as ordinary as he was not ordinary.
And yet the perfectly tailored lines of his casual light blue suit, trousers taut against his long muscular thighs, his jacket merely accentuating his wide, hard torso, narrow waist and broad shoulders, spoke of his high income. There was nothing ordinary about a guy so gorgeous that she had a compulsive need to stare at him. His lean features were flawless. Why hadn’t she smelt a rat in the sudden appearance of such masculine perfection on a public beach? There he had stood stripping in the bay, burnished male beauty and strength in every honed line of him. Nothing ordinary about that or those amazing dark golden eyes below his ridiculously long, lush black lashes. She should have been suspicious and cautious, and she had been neither.
Aware her breathing had shortened and her body heated while she scrutinised him, Claire looked away fast, but he was still freshly imprinted back in her brain. Even now, she stuck by her original belief that he was the epitome of male beauty and it had blinded her.
‘You should have told me that you were a blasted prince!’ Claire condemned as she leant forward, desperate to occupy her restless hands, and poured the tea into the china cups.
