Harlequin Presents January 2015 Box Set 3 of 4(203)

The meal finally over, Rafael suggested that they go into the salon and, reluctantly relinquishing her hold on a crumpled linen napkin, Lottie followed him across the marble hallway into the warmth of the relatively modest room. Coffee and cognac were waiting for them on a low table in front of the fire and they seated themselves side by side on the antique sofa. Rafael started to pour her a balloon glass of brandy but Lottie shook her head. She had had enough alcohol; she could feel it seeping into her bones, threatening to muddle her senses. Coffee was a much more sensible idea.

Wrestling with the heavy silver pot, she poured coffee into two china cups and passed one to Rafael. Then crossing her legs, she tried to settle herself beside him, one hand holding a rattling cup, the other one tugging her dress down over her thighs.

‘So, have you thought any more about my suggestion?’

The truce was obviously over, and the air was immediately filled with the magnitude of his question.

‘Of course I have.’ She turned to face him, the sofa springs twanging beneath her. ‘And I must say that I don’t appreciate the emotional blackmail.’

Rafael spanned the fingers of one hand across his temples, shielding his eyes as if it pained him even to look at her. ‘I was merely pointing out that you have a strong maternal instinct. There is no need to be ashamed about that.’

‘I’m not ashamed!’

‘So you are not denying, then, that in theory you would like to have a baby?’ Suddenly he was giving her the full force of his gaze again.

‘Yes...no. That is not the point.’

‘Because if you would, Lottie, now is your chance to do something about it. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that with the fertility problems you have suffered your chances of having a child with someone else might well prove...challenging.’

‘And yours would be non-existent.’

It was a cruel jibe and Lottie could feel the heat of it slash across her cheeks. But she wasn’t going to take it back; he deserved it.

‘Touché.’

He owned the few dark seconds of silence and Lottie felt increasingly bad with each one that passed.

‘So we are both in the same situation. And that has to be all the more reason to make the right decision now.’

Lottie placed her cup back down on the table. He had an answer for everything, didn’t he? Except Seraphina. He never wanted to talk about their baby daughter. Well, now she was going to make him.

She sucked in a deep, empowering breath. ‘Do you ever think about Seraphina?’ The out-breath of words whistled between them like a bullet. And she knew her aim had been sure by the immediate clench of Rafael’s jaw.

‘Of course I do.’ His voice was sharp but he still couldn’t hide the emotion behind it. Neither could the shuttered look in his eyes that were fixed on her face. ‘How can you even ask such a question? Seraphina was my baby too, in case you’ve forgotten.’

The vulnerability had gone, immediately replaced with the more familiar animosity, but she had caught a glimpse of it—heard him say her name. Seraphina. Spoken with that beautiful Italian intonation. It was all she could do not to ask him to repeat it, over and over again, until she was full to the brim with it.

She looked down from his injured face to the hand that was resting on his muscular thigh, the back of it crisscrossed with the scars and scratches from his accident, reminding her yet again just what he had been through.

Impulse made her reach towards it, tentatively rest her own pale hand over the top of it. ‘Maybe I have. I’m sorry.’

The connection between them was immediate, tingling with the sharp pinpricks of recalled intimacy, until Rafael quickly pulled away, running the same hand through his hair as if to cleanse himself of her. He moved slightly in his seat as he took control again.

‘I know we can never replace Seraphina, nor would we want to, but there is nothing to stop us having a healthy child, Lottie. I want you to understand that.’

‘Rafe...’

‘Just imagine, Lottie...a year from now we could be parents. We can make this happen—I know we can.’

‘You don’t know that.’ Trying to hang on to the last vestiges of sanity, Lottie challenged him. ‘Even if I agreed to the embryo transplantation there is nothing to say that it will work.’

‘But there is one certainty.’ His commanding voice was very low. ‘If we don’t try we will never know.’

Suddenly the room was stiflingly hot, its silence only broken by the hiss and rustle of the logs settling down on the fire. With the intensity of Rafael’s dark eyes boring into her Lottie felt the heat sweep through her body, softening her bones, melting away the layers of resolve that had settled comfortably over her like a blanket of snow.