Lynne Graham- Contract Baby Page 6

  ‘Raul…I want to stay in the UK with my baby. I don’t want to live in Venezuela, having you oversee every move I make,’ Polly admitted, watching him bridle in apparent disbelief at that statement. ‘You have the right to be in­volved in your child’s future…but what you seem to forget is that that future is my life as well! Anyway, you may not think it now, but some day you’ll get married, have other children—’

  Raul released his breath in a charged hiss of frustration. ‘I would sooner be dead than married!’

  ‘But you see…I don’t feel the same way,’ Polly shared with rueful honesty. ‘I would like to think that even as an unmarried mum I will get married eventually.’

  ‘Saying that to me is the equivalent of blackmail, Polly,’ Raul condemned, pale with anger beneath his golden skin, eyes hot as sunlight in that lean, dark, devastating face. ‘I do not want any other man involved in my child’s upbring­ing!’

  Temper stirred in Polly, and the more she thought about that blunt and unashamed declaration the angrier she be­came. Did Raul really believe that he had the right to de­mand that she live like a nun for the next twenty years? Lonely, unloved, celibate. She stared at him. Yes, that was what he believed and what he wanted, if he was not to have sole custody of their child.

  Raising herself out of the armchair, Polly straightened her slight shoulders and stood up. ‘You are so incredibly selfish and spoilt!’ she accused fiercely.

  Astonished by that sudden indictment, Raul strode across the room, closing the distance between them. ‘I can’t be­lieve that you can dare to say that to me—’

  ‘I expect not…as you’ve already told me, you’re accus­tomed to people who want to please you, who are eager to tell you only what you want to hear!’ Polly shot back with unconcealed scorn. ‘Well, I’m not one of those people!’

  His eyes blazed. ‘I have bent over backwards to be fair—’

  ‘At what personal sacrifice and inconvenience?’ Polly slung back, trembling with rage. ‘You are a playboy with a reputation as a womaniser. You enjoy your freedom, don’t you?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Raul was unmoved by that angle of attack. ‘I don’t lie to the women who pass through my life. I don’t promise true love or permanency—’

  ‘Because you’ve never had to, have you? You know, listening to you, Raul…I despise my own sex. But I despise you most of all,’ Polly confessed, with hands knotting into furious fists by her side. ‘It’s one rule for you and another for me—a hypocritical sexist double standard the belongs in the Prehistoric ages with Neanderthals like you! You say you want this child, but you didn’t want a child badly enough to make a commitment like other men, did you? And what do you offer me—?’

  ‘The only two possible remedies to the mess we’re now in. I’m not about to apologise because you do not like the imperfect sound of reality,’ Raul delivered with slashing bite.

  ‘Reality? You call it “reality” to offer me a choice be­tween giving up my child almost completely…and living like a nun in Venezuela?’

  Raul flicked her a grimly amused glance. ‘You want the license to sleep around?’

  ‘You know very well that’s not what I’m trying to say!’ ‘But you wouldn’t want me to share your bed without all that idealistic love, commitment and permanency jazz…would you, querida?’ Raul breathed with sizzling golden eyes, watching her freeze in shock at that plunge into the more intimate and personal. ‘You see, what you want and what I want we can’t have, because we both want something different!’

  Every scrap of colour drained from Polly’s face. ‘I don’t want you…like that,’ she framed jerkily.

  Raul cast her a glittering appraisal that was all male and all-knowing. ‘Oh, yes, you do…that sexual hunger has been there between us from the moment we met.’

  Polly backed away from him. She could not cope with having his knowledge of her attraction to him thrown in her teeth. ‘No—”I didn’t take advantage of you because I knew it would end in your tears.’

  ‘Don’t kid yourself…I might’ve ditched you first!’ Polly told him with very real loathing, her pride so wounded she wanted to kill him. ‘And let me tell you something else too, I put a much higher price on myself than your interchange­able blonde babes do.’

  ‘I admire that…I really do,’ Raul incised with complete cool, his temper back under wraps again at disorientating, galling speed. ‘You have such rigid moral values, gatita. Well, warned in advance, I was careful to keep my distance in Vermont’

  Polly shuddered with a rage that was out of control, a rage that had its roots in pain and violent resentment. She was shattered by the sudden ripping down of the careful barriers that had made it possible for them to skim along the surface of their complex relationship. Without those barriers, and shorn by Raul of all face-saving defences, she was flailing wildly.

  A look of positive loathing written in her furious eyes, she snapped, ‘Then you’ll have no problem understanding that the only way you’ll ever get me to Venezuela…the only way you’ll ever achieve full custody of your child.. .is to marry me, Raul!’

  A silence fell between them like a giant black hole, wait­ing to entrap the unwary.

  Raul was now formidably still, brilliant dark eyes icy with incredulity. “That’s not funny, Polly. Take it back.’

  ‘Why? Do you want me to lie to you? Say I didn’t mean it?’ Polly demanded rawly as she tipped her head back, mahogany hair rippling back from her furiously flushed face. ‘I’m being honest with you. If I stay here in the UK, I will get on with my life and you will not interfere with that life! I am not prepared to go to Venezuela as anything other than a wife!’

  Raul sent her a derisive look that said he was unim­pressed. ‘You are not serious.’ Polly studied him with so much bitterness inside her she marvelled she didn’t explode like a destructive weapon. ‘I am. Let’s see how good you are at making sacrifices when you expect me to sacrifice everything! Why? Because I’m not rich and powerful like you? Or because I’m going to be the mother of your child and you have this weird idea that a decent mother has no entitlement to any life of her own?’

  Raul jerked as if she had struck him, a feverish flush slowly darkening his hard cheekbones.

  This time the silence that fell screamed with menace.

  A tiny pulse flickered at the whitened edge of his fiercely compressed mouth. His hands had closed into fists, betray­ing his struggle for self-command. But, most frightening of all for Polly, for the very first time Raul stared back at her with very real hatred. Cold, hard, deadly loathing. And, in shock, Polly fell silent, mind turning blank, all the fight and anger draining from her, leaving only fear in their place.

  ‘I’ll take you back to the clinic,’ Raul drawled with raw finality. “There is no point in allowing this offensive dia­logue to continue.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Two days later, Polly was still recovering from the effects of that catastrophic lunch out.

  But her mind was briefly removed from her own prob­lems when she picked up a magazine dated from the pre­vious month and learnt that her childhood friend, Maxie Kendall, had got married, indeed had already been married for several weeks. Maxie and her husband, Angelos Petronides, had kept their marriage a secret until they were ready to make a public announcement. Polly read the article and scrutinised the photos with great interest, and a pleased smile on Maxie’s behalf.

  She had last met Maxie at the reading of Nancy Leeward’s will. Her godmother had actually had three god­daughters, Polly and Maxie and Darcy. Although the girls had been close friends well into their teens, their adult lives had taken them in very different directions.

  Maxie had become a famous model, with a tangled love life in London. Darcy had been a single parent, who rarely left her home in Cornwall. Polly had tried to keep in touch with both women but regular contact had gradually lapsed, not least because Darcy and Maxie were no longer friends.

  ‘Isn’t she gorgeous?
’ one of the nurses groaned in ad­miration, looking over her shoulder at the main picture of Maxie on the catwalk. ‘I would give my eye teeth to look like that!’

  ‘Who wouldn’t?’ Polly’s smile of amused agreement slid away as she found herself reflecting that Maxie closely re­sembled what appeared to be Raul’s ideal of a sexually attractive woman. Tall, blonde and stunning. And here shewas, a five-foot-one-inch-tall, slightly built brunette, who had never looked glamorous in her life.

  She grimaced, still angry and bitter about the options Raul had laid before her with a cruel air of understanding generosity. If she lived until she was ninety she would not forget her crushing sense of humiliation when Raul had dragged her attraction to him out into the open and squashed her already battered pride.

  In Vermont, Raul had evidently seen her susceptibility and quite deliberately steered clear of encouraging her. That awareness now made her feel about a foot high. She had honestly believed that she hadn’t betrayed herself, had fondly imagined that she had managed to match his cool and casual manner. She had deliberately avoided every temptation to do otherwise, biting her tongue many, many times in his presence.

  She had always left it to him to say when or if he was coming again, had never once complained when he didn’t show up, had never attempted to pry into his private life. And, boy, had she been wasting her time in trying to play it cool, she thought now in severe mortification. Raul had been ahead of her. ‘Sexual hunger’, he had called it! How gallant of him to pretend that he had been tempted too, because she didn’t believe that—indeed, not for one second could she believe that!

  And now she blamed Raul even more bitterly for her own painful misconceptions during that time. Why hadn’t he mentioned the existence of other women in his life? Even the most casual reference to another relationship would have put her on her guard. But, no, Raul had been content to allow her to imagine whatever she liked. That had been safer than an honesty that might have made her question his true motive for seeking out her company.

  So Raul needn’t think that she was going to apologise for telling him that a wedding ring was the only thing likely to persuade her to move to Venezuela. It had been the hon­est truth. She hadn’t expected him to like that truth, or evenpause for a second to consider marriage as a possible option to their problem, but she had wanted to shock him just as he had shocked her, she conceded uncomfortably.

  Yet the raw hostility and dislike she had aroused had not been a welcome result. In fact, his reaction had terrified her, and in retrospect even that annoyed her and filled her with shame. She had to learn to deal with Raul on an im­personal basis.

  Raul arrived that evening while she was lying on the sofa watching the film Pretty Woman. He strode in at the bit where the heroine was fanning out a selection of condoms for the hero’s benefit. Shooting the screen a darkling glance, he said with icy derision, ‘I’ve never understood how a whore could figure as a romantic lead!’

  Polly almost fell on the coffee table in her eagerness to grab up the remote control and switch the television off. Hot-cheeked, she looked at him then. He had never seemed more remote: fabulous bone structure taut, lean features cool, his dark and formal business suit somehow increasing his aspect of chilling detachment.

  Eyes as black and wintry as a stormy night assailed hers. ‘I’ve applied for a special licence. We’ll get married here in forty-eight hours.’

  In the act of lifting herself from the sofa, Polly’s arms lost their strength and crumpled at the elbows. She toppled back onto the sofa again, a look of complete astonishment fixed to her startled face. ‘Say that again—’

  ‘You have made it clear that you will not accept any other option,’ Raul drawled flatly.

  ‘But I never expected…. I mean, f-for goodness’ sake, Raul,’ Polly stammered in severe shock. ‘We can’t just—’

  ‘Can’t we? Are you about to change your mind? Are you now prepared to consider allowing me to take my child back home with me?’ Raul shot at her.

  ‘No!’ she gasped.

  ‘Are you willing to try living in Venezuela on any other terms?”No, but—’

  “Then don’t waste my time with empty protests. You have, after all, just got exactly what you wanted,’ Raul informed her icily.

  ‘Not if you feel like this about it,’ Polly protested un­evenly. ‘And it isn’t what I precisely wanted—’

  ‘Isn’t it? Are you now telling me that you don’t want me?’

  Polly flushed to the roots of her hair, still very sensitive on that subject ‘I… I—’

  ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t argue on that point,’ Raul warned, a current of threatening steel in his rich, accented drawl. ‘In the space of one minute, I could make you eat your words!’

  Already in shock, as she was, that level of blunt assur­ance reduced Polly to writhing discomfiture, but she still said, ‘When I mentioned marriage, I didn’t mean it as a serious possibility—’

  ‘No, you laid it out as the ultimate price, the ultimate sacrifice.’ Raul’s hard sensual mouth twisted. ‘And I’ll get used to the idea. It will be a marriage of convenience, noth­ing more. I won’t allow my child to grow up without me. I also hope I’m not so prejudiced that I can’t concede that having both a mother and a father may well be better for the child.’

  In a daze of conflicting feelings, Polly muttered, ‘But what about…us?’

  ‘That baby is the only thing that should matter to either of us. Why should he or she pay the price for this fiasco?’ That was a telling point for Polly. She bowed her head, guilty conscience now in full sway. Only she still couldn’t prevent herself from muttering, ‘I expected to marry some­one who loved me—’

  ‘I didn’t expect to marry at all,’ Raul traded, without an ounce of sympathy. ‘I’ll have to think this over—”No, you won’t. You’ll give me your answer now. I’m not in the mood for prima donna tactics!’

  Polly experienced a powerful urge to tell him to get lost. And then she thought about being married to Raul, and other, infinitely stronger emotions swamped her. Over time they could work at building up a reasonable relationship, she told herself. They would have the baby to share. Surely their child would help to bring them together? And, all false pride laid aside, Polly was suddenly agonisingly conscious that she would do just about anything to at least have that chance with Raul. If she didn’t make that leap of faith now, there would be no second opportunity.

  ‘I’ll marry you,’ she murmured tautly.

  ‘Muy bien.’ Raul consulted his watch with disturbing cool. ‘I’m afraid I can’t stay. I have a dinner engagement’

  ‘Raul…?’

  He turned back from the door.

  Polly swallowed hard. ‘You can live with this option?’ she prompted anxiously.

  His sudden blazing smile took her completely by sur­prise, and yet inexplicably left her feeling more chilled than reassured. ‘Of course…. I only hope you’re equally adapt­able.’

  Two days later, Polly, clad in a simple white cotton dress, waited in her room for Raul to arrive.

  Rod Bevan had told her that he had suggested the court­yard garden for the wedding ceremony, but Raul had ap­parently wanted a more private setting. Something quick that wouldn’t interfere with his busy schedule too much « attract the attention of others, Polly had gathered rather sourly. It was hard to believe that this was her wedding day. No flowers, no guests, nothing that might be construed as an attempt to celebrate the event. Had she been out of her mind to agree to marry Raul?

  She had tossed and turned half the night, worrying about that Absently she rubbed at the nagging ache in the smallof her back. It had begun annoying her around dawn, pre­sumably because she’d been lying in an awkward position. She felt like a water melon, huge and ungainly. She felt sorry for herself. She felt tearful. She felt that she might well be on the brink of making the biggest mistake of her life.

  But Raul himself had put it in a nutshell for her. They were
putting the baby first, and this way their baby would have two parents. That was very important to Polly, and she had with constant piety reminded herself of that crucial fact. There was just one cloud on the horizon… a cloud that got bigger and blacker every time her conscience stole an uneasy glance at it.

  Raul didn’t want to marry her. He had made no attempt to pretend otherwise. The occasional flash of sanity told Polly that that was all wrong, totally unacceptable as a basis even for a marriage of convenience. But what was the al­ternative? Polly couldn’t see any alternative. Only marriage could give them both an equal share of their child.

  She stretched awkwardly, and used her fingers to mas­sage the base of her spine. At that moment, Raul strode in.

  ‘Dios…let’s get this over with as quickly as possible,’ Raul urged impatiently as he reached down a strong hand to enclose hers and help her up off the sofa.

  Thirty seconds later Rod Bevan arrived, accompanied by two other men. One was the registrar who would perform the ceremony, the other Raul introduced as his lawyer, Digby Carson. The service was very brief. When it was over, everybody shook hands and everybody smiled—with the exception of Raul. His cool impassivity didn’t yield or melt for a second.

  In the midst of an increasingly awkward conversation, a sharp, tightening sensation formed around Polly’s abdo­men. A stifled gasp was wrenched from her.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Raul demanded, anxiety flaring in his stunning dark eyes.

  ‘I think we’d better forget the coffee and the scones,‘Rod Bevan concluded with a rueful smile as he showed the other two men out.