She might have imagined it, but suddenly he seemed slightly more approachable. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much to explain. She didn’t know where to begin. She could understand why he was so bitter, so angry. Putting herself in his position, she knew she would have felt the same. But it needn’t be this bad for him. If only he’d allow a chink in that rock-solid armour of pride and listen to the truth!
‘That’s what I had in mind.’ He closed the space between them. ‘Shall we find somewhere to sit?’ Reaching round her, he tucked the folded faxes into the back pocket of her jeans. The brush of the backs of his fingers against her buttock sent fragments of fire skittering through her veins, and all she could do was try to ignore them, rein in this helpless, hopeless yearning and follow him blindly, her sandalled feet scuffing the path, until they reached the secret rose-covered arbour, tucked away behind a bank of oleanders.
Her heart tightened in pain. She could understand his need to get well away from the house. He was probably expecting their conversation to get heated, involve raised voices. He wouldn’t want Catherine to overhear. But here? Didn’t he remember the evenings when they’d chosen to wander down to this lovely secluded place, sitting close together, the scent of roses perfuming the air, sharing a bottle of wine, murmuring words of love, unable to keep their hands off each other?
Or had he wiped those memories from his mind because, like her, they no longer had any meaningful place in his life?
Elena wanted to turn and head straight back for the house, to avoid hurting any more than she already was. But they had to talk, and this was the first time he’d displayed any willingness to properly discuss their situation instead of issuing untenable orders and walking away.
‘I want to apologise for the way I behaved today,’ she told him breathlessly, getting the words out before her courage deserted her. She sat on the far corner of the bench, knowing before he actually did it that he would sit as far away from her as he could. She knotted her hands in her lap. He wasn’t making this easy. ‘What I did was childish.’
‘Hardly that. You came on to me like a totally adult woman. A woman who wanted sex. Like the woman who would have lapped it up early this morning, even though she knew she was carrying another man’s child.’
Elena closed her eyes, locking her jaws together, taking the insult that had been delivered in a cold, hard voice. From where he stood, she deserved that. She leaned her head against the supporting pillar, her voice barely audible. ‘It’s not as simple as that’ How could she begin to explain the complexities of what she felt?
‘No? You surprise me. But don’t waste your breath apologising. The damage is done.’
She wasn’t going to ask what he meant by that bald statement. She just hoped and prayed he didn’t mean he was intending to give her what he believed she’d been practically begging for.
‘Talking of sex,’ he remarked, almost conversationally, ‘and what I have reason to know is your huge appetite for it, I can’t understand why you didn’t invite me into your bed shortly after we met. Heaven knows, twenty-four hours after meeting you I was besotted. All I could think of was making love to you. We even discussed it,’ he said drily. ‘Remember? And decided the circumstances weren’t right. Sam’s death was still very recent. Then you had to come back here to work, because you had a deadline to meet, and I had a lot on my plate back home.
‘And the days we both spent back at Netherhaye again, prior to the wedding, were hectic. So, all in all, we decided to wait until our wedding night. So romantic.’ His voice levelled out with scorn. ‘It would have been a damn sight more practical from your point of view if you’d dragged your willing victim into bed. That way you could have fooled me into thinking the child was mine—due to be born a little prematurely, perhaps, but nothing to get my knickers in a twist about. But perhaps you simply didn’t care? After all, I was a poor second choice.’
God, but he hated her! Could love die as quickly and completely as his had, be born again in the guise of implacable, unbending hatred? She balled her hands into fists and pressed her knuckles against her temples, her head falling forwards.
If she told him what had really happened, and he actually believed she was telling the truth, would it make a scrap of difference? She didn’t know, but she had to try.
She looked at him with stark appeal, took a shaky breath and told him, ‘I want to tell you how Sam’s baby was conceived—’
‘You think I actually want to hear the sordid details?’ His voice was harsh enough to raise goosebumps on every inch of her skin. He thrust himself to his feet. ‘Lady, you are unreal!’