Rafael's Love-Child

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The whole of her mind was a red, heated haze, burning away all trace of coherent thought under a blazing inferno of sensation. Every inch of her skin seemed to be suffused with the stinging pins and needles of heightened awareness, yearning for his touch, and deep down, at the most feminine centre of her body, a pulsing hunger made her stir restlessly against the hard power of his lean frame.

On a groan of hunger Rafael brought his hands up to fasten on her hips, bronzed fingers stroking the curving line of her waist, the softness of her buttocks, pressing her closer against him. There was no escaping the heated, swollen pressure that indicated the power of the passion that gripped him, the hungry need for her body that he couldn’t conceal.

Wild, crazy images filled her mind. Images of walking, step by step, backwards towards the bed, taking this man with her. Of tumbling down onto the peach-coloured bedspread, imprisoned under the heavy, glorious weight of him. Of his hands following the example of her own and tugging at her clothing, impatiently pushing aside the unwanted garments that came between his touch and her naked flesh. Of…

But there her imagination failed, short-circuited by the sheer mind-blowing reality of her fantasy made fact.

Rafael’s strong, tanned fingers had pushed the cream tee shirt away from the waistband of her trousers and were insinuating themselves underneath the fine cotton, scorching her skin where they touched, drawing heated erotic circles as they moved slowly, inexorably upwards. And the reality was so much better than anything her imagination had invented

Better, and more pleasurable, and more arousing. Reality made her heart race out of control, her skin sting with excitement, as his touch slid over her narrow ribcage to close over the slight curves of her breasts, cupping and supporting their warm weight.

‘Rafael…’ His name was a choked cry, smothered under the pressure of yet another, even more demanding kiss.

Answering the hunger that suffused her, she pushed her hands up between their bodies, pulling roughly, urgently on the buttons that fastened his shirt, yanking them apart in her impatience to be able to touch him in return. The feel of his hot flesh drew a deep, ragged sigh of satisfaction from her, a sigh that blended into a little gasp of pleasure as his hands moved against her breast again. That gasp became a moan as the warm, hard pads of his thumbs unerringly found the sensitive points of her nipples and set up a slow, circular motion that made every nerve waken into screaming need.

She was oblivious to the fact that the door was still partially open, to the sound of movement in the corridor outside. The warmth of the sun coming through the window at her back was just another sensual delight in a bombardment of such pleasures that made her head spin out of control. It wasn’t until a voice spoke, just beyond the door, that any sense of reality impinged on her at all.

‘…I believe Mr Cordoba’s in there right now.’

At the sound of his name, Rafael snapped up his dark head sharply, his stance that of a disturbed predator, every muscle taut, his breathing ragged and uneven, listening intently. Only when the owner of the voice moved away down the corridor did he shake off the wary mood, looking down into Serena’s dazed brown eyes with a twist to his mouth that was half-rueful, half-amused.

‘This is neither the time nor the place for this,’ he told her, releasing her from the seductive imprisonment of his hold and stepping back a couple of paces, smoothing down the ruffled tee shirt as he did so.

From being the ardent, demanding caress of a lover, his touch was now all distance and matter of factly businesslike, the contrast between the two moods so sharp that it drew a cry of protest from her.

‘Rafael…’ she began, but he shook his head to silence her, raking both hands through the dark disarray of his hair to smooth down the disorder her clutching fingers had created.

‘Not here, not now,’ he insisted, with a cold precision that fell onto her heated skin like drops of ice, shattering the glowing mood of moments before. ‘Not ever, if I am wise.’

‘Not…’ Serena choked on the words, unable to believe what she had heard. What had he said? Why had he said it?

Her aroused body still sang in excited expectation, the heightened rate of her pulse still sending the blood speeding through her veins. But slowly, unwillingly, a terrible sense of let-down was creeping over her, cooling the warmth of her skin, making her ache in frustration for the delights she had known and that were now denied her. She felt as if she had been reaching for the stars, only to have them snatched away from her with brutal cruelty.

‘N-not now?’

She couldn’t say the other phrase she thought she had heard. Couldn’t make her tongue form the words ‘not ever’.

‘Miss Martin—Serena…’

In the blink of an eye, it seemed, Rafael had himself once more completely under control. His appearance was near perfect again, his hair smooth, his shirt fastened, his tie restored to order around the tanned column of his throat. And it seemed that in those moments he had also erased every trace of all that had happened between them as easily as he had wiped away the faint trace of lipstick that had transferred itself from her mouth to his.

‘Forgive me. That should never have happened. I apologise for my actions.’

The stiff formality of his words, his stance, stabbed at her harshly. There was a nasty, bitter taste in her mouth and her stomach roiled queasily. How could he take something that had been so—so special, so wonderful, and turn it into a monstrous mistake, all in the space of a moment?

‘There’s no need to apologise…’

Her tone matched his in its stiffness, in the distance she deliberately put between them. Unconsciously, she mirrored his actions of moments before, straightening her clothes, stroking down her hair.

‘I wasn’t exactly forced. I was well aware of what was happening.’

‘Serena!’

His use of her name was a sound of pure exasperation.

‘You have no memory of the past year. Anything could have happened in that time. Until you know what there was in those twelve months, who you were with, you can’t make any decision about the future.’

‘Who I was with—do you know something?’

She watched in something close to despair as his face closed up, heavy lids hooding the brilliant eyes, hiding his thoughts from her.

‘If you did, you wouldn’t say anything, right?’ she continued despondently. ‘Don’t tell me—doctor’s orders.’

‘I had no right to touch you.’

‘And if I wanted to give you that right?’

She knew the answer before the question had even left her lips, anticipated the unyielding shake of his head that took away the last grain of hope she had left.

‘There can be nothing between us while your memories remain elusive.’ Cold and inflexible, his words had the force of a slashing steel blade. ‘Nothing at all.’

‘Then you—you won’t want me to come and live with you?’

‘On the contrary. I still think my original plan is for the best.’

‘Your—your original plan? But if you don’t want me…’

The look he turned on her was pure scorn, blazing over her skin with the force of a laser beam.

‘Madre de Dios! You believed that was the reason I invited you to my home?’

He was pure Spaniard now. Tall and arrogant as any matador, head held high, strong jaw set, his handsome features forming a mask of cold anger, furiously rejecting the implications behind her question. She had insulted him, Serena reflected miserably. Insulted and appalled him and although he hadn’t actually moved away from her she knew that he had mentally taken several major steps away from her.

‘I’m sorry…’ she began miserably, but he brushed aside her interjection with the brusque flick of his hand she had seen him use before.

‘That was not it at all. I was thinking of Tonio…’

‘Tonio!’ Serena almost choked on the word. ‘What has Tonio to do with this?’

‘Everything,’ Rafael snapped. ‘I am a businessman, Serena. I have interests in England, Spain—all over Europe. I work long hours—I could be called away at any time to deal with some crisis. Tonio is just a baby. He needs love and care, someone who can be there with him…’

At last Serena saw the direction in which his thoughts were heading.

‘Someone like me.’

A swift, curt inclination of his head acknowledged the accuracy of her guess.

‘You want me to be some sort of nanny…’

Her voice shook on the words, but whether in laughter or distress she had no idea. She felt perilously close to both, hot tears burning in her eyes so that she blinked hard, determined not to let them fall.

This was what he had meant all along. How could she have been so foolishly naïve? She had thought that he was attracted to her, that he hadn’t been able to resist her. She had believed that he had invited her to stay with him because he wanted to get to know her better. Instead, he had considered the problem—hers and his—quite coldly and come up with a purely pragmatic solution.

She needed a home. Rafael could provide one. He needed someone to care for his child and he had decided that that was a service she could offer in return for her board and lodging. The idea of his wanting her in any other way had had nothing to do with it.

‘But I don’t know anything about looking after a baby!’

‘You will learn.’

Once again her objections were dismissed peremptorily.

‘And I saw the look on your face when I brought him in here. I have no intention of leaving him with some woman for whom this is a job and nothing more. I want someone who would put him first always.’

Someone who didn’t have a life, Serena reflected bitterly, linking the fingers of both hands together and staring down at them in order to hide the expression in her eyes from him. She had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to. He knew that, and had used it ruthlessly against her. He might have couched it in terms of offering her a job, helping her, but he knew only too well that he held all the cards in his hands.

But then she thought of Tonio, of his big, unblinking eyes, and the way his tiny hand had closed around her finger, and her heart clenched on a wave of emotion.

The baby was Rafael’s trump card. He must have seen her face when she had looked down at him, the tenderness she hadn’t been able to disguise. In the first moment she had seen him something deep and primitive had tugged at her heart. There was no way she could turn her back on the motherless infant, and Rafael knew that.

‘You need a home, a place to live while you convalesce and regain your strength, and Tonio needs a nanny. You can live in my home; there is more than enough room for everyone. I have a housekeeper who will serve as a chaperon if you should feel the need of one. I will pay you a decent wage. It’s an arrangement that will suit us all.’

‘It seems very fair.’

It was a perfectly sensible arrangement, Serena told herself drearily. And perhaps, if he had suggested it yesterday, she might have seen it as the answer to all her problems. If he had suggested it before he had taken her in his arms. Before he had kissed her in a way that had changed their relationship for ever.

But he had held her. He had kissed her. And as a result of the dreams she had allowed herself to indulge in, just for a moment, what he now offered her could only ever be second best.

‘Then you agree?’

Did she have any choice?

‘Serena?’ Rafael prompted hardly. ‘I need an answer.’

And there was really only one she could give him. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded.

‘I agree.’

It was obviously the response he had expected. The swift, brusque nod of his dark head told her he had never anticipated anything else. Pushing back the cuff of his crisp white shirt, he consulted the slim watch that he wore on his wrist, gold against the bronze of his skin.

‘I have to go now,’ he said, brisk and businesslike once more, the matter settled to his satisfaction, his mind already moving on to other things. ‘But I’ll be back in the morning. Dr Greene says that she expects to discharge you then, so I will collect you as soon as she has made the final decision… Around ten-thirty, then?’

‘Ten-thirty.’

But as he turned and headed for the door she found she could no longer hold back. All the feelings, all the hunger he had woken in her came flooding back with such force that before she quite realised what was happening she had opened her mouth and spoken impetuously.

‘Rafael!’

The tone of her voice brought him to an abrupt halt, turning on his heel and swinging round to face her.

‘What is it?’

‘You—you said that—that while I still had no memory then there could be nothing at all between us… But what if things changed? If my memory came back—and I knew all about myself? What would happen then?’

Rafael’s breath hissed in between his teeth as he considered his answer, and the momentary pause made her heart clench in something close to panic inside her chest.

‘If that happened,’ he said slowly, golden eyes burning into hers, holding her unmoving. ‘If you remembered, then things would be so very different. In that case, belleza, all bets would very definitely be off.’

CHAPTER FOUR

SERENA stared out of her bedroom window, struggling to take in what she saw. The contrast with the modest size and facilities of her hospital room, comfortable though it had been, could not have been greater.

There was enough room here to house a family of twelve, an army of nannies, and then some more! The gardens stretched out on all sides, making it impossible to believe they were only a few miles from London. And this was only Rafael’s ‘English base’. The place where he stayed when business commitments brought him to Britain. His family home, he had told her was in Almeria. And he also had an apartment in Madrid.

So what was she doing here, in the middle of all this luxury? How had Serena Martin, a girl from the Yorkshire Dales whose one ambition had been to study History at university and then perhaps teach, ended up living with a Spanish millionaire, ostensibly acting as nanny to his baby son?

‘I told you, I want someone who will care for Tonio,’ he had declared impatiently when, in the car on the way here, she had raised the question that had fretted at her all night. ‘All the qualifications in the world count for nothing if there is no real affection. There are too many horror stories in the papers these days. I prefer to go with my own judgement.’

‘And your judgement says precisely what about me? What can I offer your son?’

‘Two arms to hold him safely, a soft voice to soothe him when he cries. Someone to distract him when he is restless…’

‘Any woman could do that!’ Serena protested. ‘Why does it have to be me?’

‘Are you saying you don’t want the job?’ Rafael questioned sharply, his hands tightening on the steering wheel.

‘No, of course I’m not saying that! It’s just that I don’t see why you are so determined to have me…’