Italian Maverick's Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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don’t make me sound like a very nice person,’ she returned, hurt quivering in her voice.
‘I don’t want nice! I want not to be pushed away, treated like the enemy. We do not seem to be making each other happy, Lara.’
Lara felt the tears press at the back of her throat.
‘The only place we don’t fight is in bed.’
She took a deep breath, her hostility falling away as she felt a sob rise in her throat. She had always known this would happen, she just hadn’t expected it to be here, now.
‘So you are saying you want a divorce? I think you might have chosen a less public place.’
‘This is not a public place, it is my home.’
‘You didn’t want any of this, did you? I knew it and I still went ahead and—I’m sorry.’ Just like the baby. ‘I just wanted to do something that I could control...and if I don’t fill the time I think about—’ She lifted her hand to her head. ‘It just doesn’t stop.’
‘I understand,’ he said gently. ‘I really do, but, Lara, we have to get on the same page with this thing. After all we both want the same thing, don’t we? I don’t want a divorce.’
Thinking of the way she’d been behaving, Lara wondered why not.
Raoul stood there wondering the same thing himself. What had happened to his safe compartmentalised life?
‘Couldn’t we take a day off from the baby thing? Does it have to dominate everything?’
Of course it had to dominate everything—it was the only reason they were together. Lara bit her tongue to stop herself blurting it out.
‘I suppose so, but this is—’
‘I know, for charity.’
‘I’m sorry, I really am, I just got carried away, the dress...’ The truth was she had not felt comfortable with so much flesh exposed all night.
‘Are your hostess duties over for the evening?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘Then how about we slip away and have our own little party?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘CHARLES THINKS IT will be a good year, a vintage year. He also said he doesn’t need a new assistant because you do more than the one he had. Should I put you on the payroll?’
‘It’s interesting,’ she admitted.
Hot after the walk to the vineyard manager’s office, Lara turned her face into the light breeze, though with Raoul standing there with his shirt open to the waist, a section of brown skin on show and the silver buckle of his jeans shining against the hair-roughened skin of his taut, flat belly, there was not much chance of her cooling down.
‘The clearing-up operation should be done by now. We made a lot of money if that’s any—’
‘Forget about last night.’
There were parts Lara didn’t want to forget. She pulled at the neck of her shirt as he tipped the remnants of the water bottle he’d been drinking from over his head.
Oh, my! She closed her eyes, willed her galloping hormones to get back in their box.
The sound of him crushing the empty water bottle between his fingers brought her eyes open. There were strands of glossy, wet hair plastered across his forehead and his shirt was splodged with moisture.
He raised a hand and pushed the wet hair off his face and, hooking one thumb into the belt of his jeans, nodded. ‘That tree over there—I was six and Jamie was eight when we carved our names into the trunk.’
Her throat filled as she watched him stare into the distance as though he was seeing the day from his past.
‘He cut his hand when he cut his name because I was pushing, trying to see.’ Then, still staring at the tree, he seamlessly changed the subject. ‘I will need to be in New York quite a lot over the next few months.’
‘New York?’
‘Yes, I had thought I could keep up the law side of things but it’s not going to work. I’m selling up. I can delegate the satellite offices but I need to see through the New York handover myself as there are still outstanding commitments that need to be honoured.’
‘I suppose that will mean a lot of travelling?’ And a lot of nights alone.
‘It could,’ he agreed. ‘But there are alternatives.’
She shook her head, suddenly sure what was coming next. He had decided to cut his losses.
‘We could move there. I have a place.’
She opened her eyes. ‘You want me to come with you?’
‘I think a break would do you...us...good right now maybe? Look, I know it’s easy for me to talk about changing the cycle, but maybe a physical move would help? And while we’re there, the best IVF specialist in the world is based there...’
‘What are you saying, Raoul?’ Her heart lurched with wild hope.
‘I’m saying that I’d be willing to hear what he has to say... I’ll go in there with an open mind. I’m not making any promises, but I’m prepared to discuss it. I still think it’s way too soon to go down that road.’
Her throat closed over with emotion. ‘You’d do that for me?’
‘It’s only an appointment, Lara. Don’t get excited...’ he warned.
Eyes shining, she shook her head and flew at him, releasing a whoop as he whirled her around. ‘When do we go?’
* * *
Their appointment with the specialist was arranged for the second month after they arrived in New York. Raoul arrived back early as arranged, only to find Lara sitting in exactly the same place she had been that morning when he’d left. She was still wearing her nightdress.
‘What’s happened?’
He dropped down on his knees beside the chair and took hold of her icy hands.
‘I had a phone call from Lily.’ She took a gulping swallow. ‘It’s Emmy—she’s ill, in hospital.’
‘Is it serious?’
She nodded. ‘Very serious.’ Her face crumpled. ‘She might die...she’s been ill awhile and Lily didn’t even tell me.’ It had brought home to her just how much her relationship with her twin had disintegrated.
‘Oh, cara.’ He pulled her into his arms. Lara pressed her face into his shoulder and sobbed. ‘We’ll fly out tomorrow. What about medical help? Tell her we will pay any—’
Lara lifted her tear-stained face and shook her head. ‘I don’t think she wants me there. If I were her I wouldn’t want me there. And anyway, she doesn’t need our help. Ben is loaded.’
‘Who is Ben?’
‘Ben Warrender. Emily Rose’s father. I still can’t believe it. We’ve known him for ever—his family own the estate...she didn’t tell me. She sounded so...she must be going through hell!’
So, it seemed to him, was Lara.
‘Have you cancelled the appointment?’
Lara looked at him blankly.
‘The appointment with Dr Carlyle?’
‘I forgot...will you ring them?’
‘Of course I will,’ he said, sliding his phone out and moving away to stand before