Martinez’s Pregnant Wife(11)

Lisa’s heart wrenched as she thought of the young boy he’d been. ‘Maybe your father did a good thing leaving you both to build a new life.’

She was talking from her own experience, from the heartache of being stuck in the middle of warring parents, but the deep inhaled breath that prevented Max from saying anything warned her that was not what he thought at all.

‘I’m sorry.’ She stumbled over her words. ‘I didn’t mean it like it sounded.’

‘We should go,’ he said and turned to walk back to the waiting car, the driver having kept the engine turning over.

As the car negotiated the busy streets, past landmarks she longed to stop and see, Max sat coldly beside her and that coldness continued after they arrived at the wedding venue. There wasn’t even the smallest amount of tenderness from him, not this morning when her pregnancy had left her nauseous and he’d rushed her out early, and definitely not now as she stood waiting, the cold making her shiver again. Or was it the revelations of this morning? Either way, nobody could have ever guessed they were a married couple, least of all the few assembled guests awaiting the arrival of Lydia, Raul’s bride.

Lisa pulled the softness of her black coat around herself and tried to focus on what was going on around her. Expectation hung in the air of the old town hall as the few assembled guests awaited the arrival of the bride. She glanced at Max as he sat at her side and then at Raul, who waited calmly for Lydia’s arrival. Had Max been as calm the day they’d married?

The sun had shone that day and she’d thought she was the luckiest woman on earth. She was so in love, so full of the promise of her happy ever after, yet within a few months all that had crumbled away with Max’s admission that he couldn’t love her.

Lisa pushed the memories aside as her doubts began to build, increasing to such a level she could barely sit still. Why was she even here? As the thought careered around in her mind like an out-of-control horse, the bride made her entrance. Lisa had always loved attending weddings, loved to admire the bride, but this time her focus was on the groom. Although she’d met him briefly after that first meeting, she hadn’t been feeling well. He was so like Max they could be twins, not mere half-brothers.

It was the love in Raul’s eyes as he watched his bride come nearer that had her so transfixed she could scarcely breathe. There was no doubt that he loved her—completely and utterly. The smile on his lips held a secret message, known only to the bride and groom. Her heart ached and began to crack into pieces. Max had never looked at her like that and certainly not on their wedding day. He’d never shown any sign of love because he couldn’t.

‘I can’t love you, Lisa. I can’t love anyone.’

The words he’d cruelly delivered just months after they’d exchanged vows still cut deep. She’d been so in love with him, so sure he’d come to love her, she’d clung to the hope, like a thirsty woman in the middle of the desert, that one day he’d love her as she did him. That had never happened. To him it had been only lust. Nothing more than undeniable passion, which had blazed between them since they’d first met.

She moved, physically shivering as the icy memories invaded the present, desperate not to allow her emotions to get the better of her, but in doing so she brushed against Max. He stiffened instantly beside her and she risked a quick glance at him. His profile was stern, his focus on his brother as Lydia joined him. Then he looked at her and the steel in his eyes turned her and her battered heart to stone.

‘I would never have guessed.’ His whispered words held a feral edge, as if he were a wild animal afraid he’d be cornered at any moment. She knew exactly what he meant. She’d seen the love there, the very emotion he couldn’t feel, couldn’t give.

‘That they could be so in love?’ She goaded him, wanting some kind of emotion from him. Even anger was better than this distant, cool reserve.

The sound of his breath being sucked in made a few heads turn their way, but the fierce connection his eyes had made with hers was too strong to break. ‘That the might of Raul Valdez would be so weak. He must be doing what is expected. Going through the motions.’

‘Faking it?’ Her gasped whisper once again made heads turn their way, but she wasn’t going to let this go now. Not when she was finally getting somewhere, finally able to talk about the emotions that had made him marry her, then walk away. ‘Like you did?’

‘Sí.’ His eyes hardened, challenging her to say more, and she wished they were alone, that they were anywhere else. But this was Raul and Lydia’s day and she wasn’t going to spoil it and, damn him, he knew it too. She glared back at him, matching his challenge, his anger. She held his gaze for several long seconds, then turned without a word and focused once more on the bride and groom.

Raul was the epitome of command as he stood, resplendent in a black suit worn with a pale blue tie, and even though it was Max who had stolen her heart she had to admit his brother was strikingly handsome. Lydia wore a white cape, the hood trimmed with fur, over her wedding dress, looking every bit the winter fairy-tale bride.

Lisa watched stoically as they exchanged their vows, their rings and then kissed one another. They didn’t take their eyes from each other as they stayed locked in their world of love.

Max had done all that with her. The vows, the rings exchanged, the look and then the kiss, but none of it had been for real, none of it had been love. She clamped her teeth together against the threat of tears, cursing the pregnancy hormones that seemed to make crying her default emotion right now. No, she would not cry. She would never let Max know how much he’d hurt her—or that she cared.

She kept up that pretence as the guests assembled for the wedding breakfast, hardly daring to look at how happy and radiant the bride looked. It was hard to believe she was the same woman Lisa had seen leaving the restaurant in London so hurriedly just a few days ago. Did that mean there was hope for her and Max? That they could put aside their differences and fall in love again?

Again? Who was she kidding? Max had never loved her. That was the one difference. Raul had obviously loved Lydia despite the fallout that must have happened, probably all due to the stress of discovering and meeting his brother.

Beside her, she felt Max inhale deeply as an older woman talked with Raul, looking at them, and then she walked toward them. Instantly on alert, Lisa guessed this must be Raul’s mother, the woman his father had left Max and his mother to be with all those years ago. As she tried to process this, the woman spoke to Max in Spanish and, judging from his curt and brief response, it wasn’t good.

She risked a glance at Max to see his jaw was set in that stubborn way she knew only too well and she wished she understood what the woman had said, and if it was even Raul’s mother.

Then the older woman looked at Lisa and spoke in heavily accented English. ‘I am happy that my son has found love, but it is strange, is it not, that both the Valdez sons have taken an English bride?’

Her voice was warm, friendly. She wasn’t merely making a comment, it was accepting Max, a way to bridge the gap between them. She didn’t have to do that. It must be the hardest thing to face the son of your husband’s mistress. Lisa smiled at her, but she could feel Max’s anger, feel him bristle with indignation. She didn’t need to look at him to know that.

‘I am not a Valdez.’ Max’s response was harsh and razor sharp.

Raul’s mother looked at him and continued in her accented English, obviously wanting Lisa to understand. ‘You may not like to admit it, but you are. More than you will ever know.’

‘I think not.’ The growled response was fierce, full of denial.

‘You are, Max. There is no doubt that you are Maximiliano’s son and it is far more than good looks which makes me say this.’ Raul’s mother looked into his eyes and Lisa could see her expression soften. This was a woman who didn’t blame him, didn’t hate him and was extending the hand of friendship. Maybe she knew he’d lost his mother as a teenager and all too soon after losing his father.

Further thoughts were cast aside as Max cursed in Spanish. ‘I have no wish to be like my father.’

Raul’s mother turned and looked back at her son and Lisa wondered how this was all really affecting her. Then she turned her attention back to Max and touched him gently on the arm. Max looked down at her hand, a stark contrast to charcoal grey of his suit. She saw Max swallow, as if he was trying to gulp down the pain of the past, and Lisa realised she knew very little of it—just as he knew very little of her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spoke in a hushed tone, but still in English. ‘There is no denying you are his son, just as there is no denying you are Raul’s brother. Don’t run from the truth, Max, face it. Own it. Make it your friend, not your enemy.’

Lisa frowned. What was this woman talking about?

‘Thank you for your advice, signora. I will give it some thought, but right now my wife and I need to leave.’

‘We do?’ Lisa sensed there was more to this conversation if only he’d participate in it, but she also knew Max and pushing him to do anything he didn’t want to do was useless.