The Caged Tiger. PENNY JORDAN
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mind stopped. But he had, and he turned his chair again, his eyes going slowly over the small form held protectively against Davina’s breast.
‘My son, or your grandson, Madre?’ he asked sardonically. ‘Tell me. If I were still man enough to father children, if Sebastian could provide you with grandsons, would you still want that?’
The use of the derisive word, the look he gave them, all combined to arouse within Davina the anger the sight of him, stricken, had tempered. Quivering with the pent-up force of it, she advanced on the wheelchair, her eyes blazing almost as darkly as his, unaware of the arresting picture her erect carriage and pale face made.
‘That, as you call him, just happens to be your son,’ she told him, barely able to form the words coherently. ‘The son you’ve denied from the moment of his birth, but he is your son, Ruy, and he will live here as is his birthright…’
‘How you have changed your tune,’ he sneered bitterly. ‘When I married you, you told me that you wished I were a poor man; that we could live an “ordinary” life. What went wrong, Davina? Or is it just that with age has come the realisation that you will not be young for ever, that there will come a time when men cease to desire your body; when you will have nothing but the dead ashes of too many burnt out love affairs… My son! How can I be sure of that?’
The sharp crack of her palm against his lean cheek split the silence. Behind her Davina heard someone gasp, and she felt faintly sick herself as she stared at the dull red patch against the tanned skin. What had prompted her to behave so outrageously? In her arms Jamie stirred again and whispered, opening his eyes properly for the first time to stare at the man who had fathered him. How could Ruy so coldly deny his own flesh and blood? she asked herself. It was obvious that Jamie was his child…
‘I apologise for striking you,’ she said shakily, ‘but you did provoke me. Did you think I would have come here for one moment had Jamie not been your child?’
‘I know only that you disappeared out of my life, only to reappear now, at the command of my mother. I am not a fool, Davina, no matter what I-might have appeared in the past. It must have been a tempting prospect; a useless cripple of a husband whose presence need not disturb you, and the rest of your life spent in luxury waiting for your child to step into his shoes.’
‘Stop! That is enough, Ruy,’ his mother commanded. ‘If you must have the truth, I allowed Davina to think that you had written to her.’ She shrugged when he stared frowningly at her. ‘Enough of this foolish pride. Jamie is the only son you are likely to have, the only son this house is likely to have. It is only right and fitting that he is brought up here where his place will one day be…’
It was at that moment that Jamie decided it was time he took a hand in the proceedings himself. Struggling against Davina’s guarding arms, he demanded to be put down on the floor. When she did as he requested he toddled solemnly over to the wheelchair, while Davina, her heart in her mouth, darted forward to hold him back. It was only the pressure of her mother-in-law’s fingers biting into her wrist that prevented her from wrenching Jamie away, her grasp restricting her for long enough for Jamie to reach his goal. Once there he stared up at his father, his eyes, so like Davina’s, staring perplexedly at this man who looked back at him with such cool haughtiness.
‘Is he my daddy?’.
The question was addressed to Davina, over his shoulder, the shrill, piping treble baby voice filling the tense silence.
Davina tried to speak and could not. She had a photograph of Ruy at home which she had shown to Jamie, and although she doubted that he could have recognised the man pictured there, she was not going to lie to her son merely to spare the feelings of the father who denied him.
She cleared her throat, but her voice was still husky as she answered his question, going down on her knees to draw him back from Ruy, as though she feared that he might harm the child.
‘Then why doesn’t he talk to me?’ Jamie demanded, turning towards her. ‘Doesn’t he like me?’
Such an innocent question! It brought a lump to Davina’s throat and moisture to her eyes. This was a moment she had faced over and over again in all her worst nightmares, trying to explain to Jamie why his father had rejected them, but she had never, even in the very worst of them, guessed that she would be called upon to do so in Ruy’s presence.
It was the Condesa who came to her rescue, her voice for once almost gentle as she placed her hand on Jamie’s shoulder and smiled down at him.
‘Of course he likes you, pequeño. Is that not so, Ruy?’
‘What man can deny his own flesh and blood?’ Ruy drawled sardonically, and Davina wondered if she was alone in remembering the accusation he had just hurled at her about Jamie’s parentage. She had come to Spain reluctantly, and only for Jamie’s sake, and if anyone had told her that if Ruy had repudiated them that she would insist on remaining she would have denied it most emphatically. It was not in her nature to be mercenary or grasping, wealth and position mattered little in her book when balanced against love and happiness, but something in Ruy’s cold condemnation and lack of feeling for both of them had aroused all her fiercest maternal instincts; and for the sake of her child she was prepared to suffer indignities she would never have tolerated merely for her own gain. Jamie was Ruy’s son, he had every right to be here at the Palacio, but one thing was going to be made quite clear to both Ruy and his family.
‘Jamie is your child, Ruy,’ she told him calmly. ‘Oh, I know why you would prefer not to believe it. I’m surprised you haven’t already had our marriage set aside. Had you done so and married Carmelita, she might have had a son of your own to displace Jamie, and then none of this would have been necessary.’
His harsh laughter jarred, shocking her into immobility. ‘Nothing is quite that easy. Jamie would still have been my heir, whether he is my child or not, simply because he bears my name…’
‘And knowing that Carmelita refused to marry you?’
She didn’t know what prompted her to goad him like that; perhaps it was the nagging ache deep down inside her, a wound which refused to heal; the memory of how she had felt when she first discovered that Ruy did not love her and was merely using her instead to be revenged upon the woman whom he did love.
‘Carmelita had no place in her life for a platonic relationship with a man,’ he told her cruelly, ‘and since I can no longer give her what she desires, she has found it elsewhere.’
‘Carmelita has recently married and gone back to Argentina, with her new husband,’ Sebastian interrupted, and as he said the words, Davina felt the full picture falling into place. Ruy’s mother had always wanted him to marry Carmelita, but now, knowing that her plans must come to nothing, she had decided to fall back on what was left to her… Jamie. Only he would never be allowed to become cold and uncaring like his father, Davina told herself. He would not be brought up to think himself lord of all that he surveyed, to walk roughshod over anything and anyone who stood in his way, to ruthlessly and remorselessly crush underfoot the dreams and hopes of others… as Ruy had crushed hers.
‘It has been a long day, and Jamie is tired,’ she told her mother-in-law. ‘If someone could show us to our rooms…’
‘Motherhood has taught you courage, little white dove,’ Ruy mocked. ‘So cool and brave. I wonder how deep it is, that cool façade…’
‘Just as deep as it needs to be to protect my son,’ Davina told him with a calm she was far from feeling. How long could she endure the sort of mental and verbal torment he was handing out and not crack under it? Hard on the heels of the thought came the comforting knowledge that she was unlikely to see much of him. He was, after all, hardly likely to seek her out…
‘So you intend to stay?’ The hooded eyes watching her were unreadable, but guessing that he had hoped to frighten her into running away, for a second time, Davina lifted her chin proudly to stare back at him. ‘For Jamie’s sake—yes. Personally I wouldn’t touch so much as a peseta of your money, Ruy, but Jamie