Isandro had laughed quickly, harshly. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then why did you sleep with her?’
Isandro’s voice had turned icy. ‘That is none of your business.’
‘I can’t imagine it was fun.’ Ana’s voice had been so scathing and so dripping with disdain that Rowan had felt weak. ‘She’s like the original ice queen.’
Their voices had got lower but no less heated for a minute, and Rowan had been too frozen with horror to move. Too shocked. Too hurt. And then Isandro’s voice had risen again.
‘She means nothing more to me than a means to an end. She never did; she never will. I don’t care what our father did. That has no bearing on how I am going to live my life. I will not be dictated to by his misdeameanours, and I will certainly not be dictated to by you. She has more than fulfilled her function as my wife and you will accept that.’
‘She’s truly trapped you now, brother dear …’ Ana had finished tauntingly.
Slowly Rowan became aware of her surroundings again. Ana was still standing there, hissing at Isandro. Her husband looked sheepishly apologetic beside her. Rowan felt clammy and cold.
And then Isandro was saying to Ana, ‘Bastante!’
His sister halted in mid-tirade. With a strangled sound she grabbed her husband and stalked off. Rowan felt as though she’d been punched.
Isandro turned to face her. He was shocked at how pale she looked. Her eyes were wounded. He cursed, and took her over to a quiet corner. When he almost acted on instinct and pulled her into his chest she stepped back jerkily. It made a rush of self-mockery run through him. He was getting that soft?
Rowan felt very close to the edge. Isandro had reached for her, but she knew that if he touched her she’d dissolve. And the fact that he’d almost offered to comfort her was doing even worse things to her head.
But then, as if she’d imagined it, Isandro spoke, and his tone was frigid. ‘She had no right to subject you to an attack like that here.’
It helped Rowan to claw back some equilibrium. She shook her head vaguely, as if to negate what he said. He couldn’t see how badly his sister had affected her. But she’d let her get to her again. She’d thought she’d blocked out that awful conversation, but it was still there like a brand burnt into her memory. It had been timely, though—she had to remember that. Because if she hadn’t heard it when she had she’d have told him … everything. And that would have lost her the only sliver of pride and dignity she’d managed to retain.
When he asked abruptly, Are you ready to go back inside?’ Rowan just nodded, hoping that none of the turmoil in her belly was evident on her face or in her eyes.
‘Yes, of course. I just … needed a moment … the heat …’
For the rest of the evening Isandro was attentive but distant. Unbelievably cool. Perhaps seeing his sister had put things back into perspective for him? Reconfirmed his suspicions that Rowan had indeed set out to trap him? Perhaps he regretted bringing Rowan with him? Perhaps he was wishing he was with his lover?
All the way home he barely said two words to her. Thunder rumbled ominously as they got out of the car, and Rowan looked up to see rolling clouds racing across the sky, the full moon appearing and disappearing. The air was warm, but there was a storm on the horizon. A little shiver of something went down Rowan’s spine. Of foreboding or something—she wasn’t sure what.
Once inside the house, Isandro yanked his tie free. ‘I’m having a nightcap—care to join me?’
Rowan shook her head. Not that he was even looking at her. ‘No. Thank you. Goodnight.’
Something stopped her at the bottom stair and she found herself asking, just before he stepped into the drawing room, ‘Is that woman your mistress?’
His broad back stopped. He turned slowly, and Rowan could have bitten her tongue. She had no right to know. She couldn’t read the expression on his face.
‘Why?’
She shrugged awkwardly. ‘I was just wondering. You seemed … close.’
‘We were lovers a long time ago. But, no, she’s not my mistress.’
‘Oh … well, goodnight, then.’ Rowan fled before her mouth could get her into any more trouble. Even so a curious fizzing sensation filled her veins. Upstairs, she took off her shoes and checked in on Zac. He was sleeping peacefully. She straightened the covers over him, pressed a kiss to his forehead and went to her own room.
When Isandro walked into Zac’s room a while later he could smell Rowan’s scent lingering on the air—barely there, but he could smell it. He could see that she’d already tucked Zac in properly. He sat down heavily in a chair in the corner of the room and looked moodily into space for a long time.