His Suitable Bride(106)

She looked at Zac helplessly. On that fateful day when she was seven months pregnant she’d found out so much …

‘Papá!’

Rowan froze. How had she not sensed him arrive? And yet wasn’t he in her brain all the time? With her at every moment?

She looked around to see Zac throw himself at Isandro’s legs. Isandro was looking down, smiling, oblivious to the two huge mucky handprints that now adorned his pristine suit. Rowan’s heart beat rapidly. He cast her a quick cool look.

‘I thought I’d come home early to take Zac riding …’

Rowan stood up awkwardly and brushed off her own filthy jeans. She felt mussed and inadequate. ‘Oh … okay.’ Once Ana-Lucía had taken over from María, Rowan had assumed Isandro would expect her to follow the original routine. Today her time with Zac wasn’t up yet, and she felt a dart of pain that Isandro could so easily wield this control.

He started to move away, with Zac, chattering nonsensically, held high in his arms. Ridiculously tears pricked her eyes, as if her heart was being wrenched from her chest just at watching them walk away.

Before they reached the house Isandro turned around, a mild look of impatience crossing his unbearably handsome features. ‘Well? Aren’t you coming too?’

For a stunned moment Rowan just stood there, and then stammered out, ‘Well. I thought. I mean, yes … yes, I will—if that’s okay?’

He gave a curt nod, and Rowan followed them jerkily as they disappeared into the house. The sensation of being on a string was vivid and unsettling. She had to learn to control herself. Her emotions. But just for now she felt joy zinging through her at Isandro’s easy invitation.

That night, as the tremors in Rowan’s body started to recede and her heart resumed a normal rhythm, she prayed silently that Isandro wouldn’t leave her bed just yet. Pain made her insides clench. Was this how his mistresses felt? Or was he different with them? More tender? As tender as he’d once been with her … before she’d heard his poisonous words. It was too painful to go there. She couldn’t allow herself to think about that. He was here now, with her. This time was finite.

He’d pulled away to lie on his side and, craving to touch him, to stay connected, Rowan pressed her front against his back, bringing her legs up to cup his bottom, her arm around his chest. She felt him tense for a second and her mind balked. He was going to get up and go—again.

But after a long moment she felt him relax, and rejoiced inwardly. She heard his breaths deepen and lengthen. She felt a huge surge of emotion and pressed her lips to his broad back, as if to stifle words that threatened to spill out. She had no idea what she wanted to say, no idea what the feeling was. And then, as sleep started to claim her body and mind, she knew. She was sorry. Sorry for leaving, sorry for walking away, for not having the courage yet to explain.

Without even realising what she was doing, she pressed another kiss to his cooling skin, higher, closer to his neck, and whispered, ‘Sorry, I’m so sorry …’ again and again, as she kissed him softly.

Then the world was up-ended, and Isandro was out of the bed, looking down at her with scorn written all over his face before she knew which way was up.

He’d been awake …

Rowan came up on one arm and pulled the sheet around her, her heart thumping painfully as she watched Isandro reach for his trousers and pull them on.

‘Sorry?’ He laughed harshly. ‘Sorry for what, Rowan?’

Rowan felt jittery, shaky and in shock. She had to tell him. Now. She reached for the lamp beside her bed and switched it on. Shadows danced, and the sculpted plains of Isandro’s body and face were thrown into sharp relief.

But before she could get a word out Isandro was already walking away, back towards his own bedroom.

She put out a hand. ‘Wait!’

He didn’t stop. He ignored her and kept walking.

Rowan refused to be dissuaded and got off the bed, pulling the sheet around her and following him into his room.

He heard her and turned around, saying coldly, ‘I’ve had enough for tonight. Please leave.’

Rowan did her best to ignore the shaft of pure ice and pain. ‘Please, I need to tell you … to explain—’

He advanced, and she backed away despite her intentions. He was just too big, too intimidating and too male. Her body throbbed as if on cue.

‘Explanations are not something I’m interested in, Rowan. Explanations are for people who are interested in hearing what the other has to say. My interest where you’re concerned is confined to the bedroom and to how I’m going to make sure you don’t get a minute’s access to Zac that isn’t approved by me.’