Freya hesitated, causing Rafe to refocus, swinging his gaze back on her sharply. She bit her lip, looking unsure for only a second before she answered, ‘I was a student before I cared for Max.’
‘A student?’ He’d assumed she was in her late twenties, simply based on the assured way she held herself. Despite that brief flash of uncertainty, Freya Clark had the composure and confidence of a woman, not a girl.
‘Yes, I took am MPhil in pure mathematics,’ she elaborated, although with seeming reluctance.
Rafe sat back, saying nothing. This woman had no end of surprises. She possessed an advance degree in an abstract and technical field, and yet she had been nannying for the last three years and seemed content—in fact, intent—on continuing to do so.
‘And you did not wish to pursue a position in your field of study?’
Freya lifted her shoulders in a defensive shrug. ‘No,’ she said simply, and Rafe’s gaze narrowed.
Something wasn’t right. She was hiding something; he was sure of it now. She stared at him steadily, without a flicker or tremor, refusing to give anything away. Yet there was something silently defiant about that stare, and it told Rafe that Freya Clark was not telling him everything he needed to know. Or was he simply suspicious, because he wasn’t used to taking women at face value? The two women he’d let into his heart—his mother and his wife—had both deceived him in the most devastating ways possible. Over and over again. He didn’t trust Freya, but he didn’t know if that was because of him…or her.
‘What an interesting choice of study,’ he finally said mildly. Was he imagining her relaxing, no more than the tiniest fraction of a movement, shoulders lowering, expression ironed out?
‘It was,’ Freya said in that same firm, cool voice. ‘But caring for Max has been far more rewarding.’
‘Indeed.’ He steepled his fingers together, watched her over their tips. She’d tensed again; it was something he felt, as if they were connected by an invisible thread, a live wire. She didn’t want to talk about herself, Rafe thought. She was afraid of revealing something—but what? ‘And will you return to mathematics when your position here is finished?’
Pain flashed across her features, a lightning streak through her eyes before she composed herself again. Perhaps he had been needlessly cruel, reminding her that her position would end, but she needed to know it. He had no intention of Freya Clark staying around any longer than necessary.#p#分页标题#e#
‘I’ll have to see,’ she told him, her voice and gaze both level. ‘When the time comes.’
Max stirred then, letting out a little cry. Freya rose and went to him. Rafe watched her bending over the child, speaking in a low, soothing voice as she swept the silky dark hair from his forehead.
Watching her, the cheap material of her black skirt moulding itself over her hips, Rafe felt another lick of lust uncurl inside him, and he yanked his gaze away impatiently. His unexpected desire for Freya Clark was yet another reason to have her return to England as soon as possible.
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS nearing midnight when they were finally driven to Rafe’s home in Madrid. Freya hadn’t really spoken to him again since that tense exchange on the aeroplane, and for that she could only feel relief. She didn’t like the way Rafe looked at her—so assessing, so knowing. She saw suspicion in those dark eyes, and she wondered what he suspected. It wasn’t as if she was hiding anything relevant from him. She had no secrets when it came to Max and her care of him. Yet still Rafe looked at her as if she did…and he intended on finding them out.
Max was exhausted from the flight, and he’d barely woken up as they’d left the plane. Freya had been bending to lift him when Rafe had stepped forward. ‘Let me.’
Silently she had watched as he’d scooped his son into his arms, so gently that Max had barely stirred before nestling closer against Rafe—almost as if he instinctively recognised and trusted this stranger who had come so suddenly into his life.
The sight of Rafe cradling his son had made Freya’s throat close up. This was how it was meant to be—parents and children. This was what she was missing out on being just Max’s nanny. This was what she would forever miss out on. She’d turned away, unable to watch, unwilling to feel…yet the pain and memory still lanced through her.
A limo had been waiting on the tarmac to take them into the city.
Freya breathed in the warm, sultry air, so different from the chill of early spring back in London. She remembered how she’d loved stepping into the sunshine when she’d flown into Barcelona ten years ago, her heart buoyant with the opportunities and possibilities ahead of her.