Modern Romance September 2017 Books 5 - 8. Кейт Хьюит
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all was dark save for a single lamp burning in the lounge. Allegra hesitated on the threshold of the room; she saw Rafael sprawled in a chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his button-down shirt several more buttons open than usual. His hair was rumpled and a tumbler of whisky dangled from his fingertips.
‘It’s Shostakovich,’ Allegra said softly, and he glanced up, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He was, she realised, a little drunk.
‘The third movement of the cello sonata,’ he agreed. ‘It reminds me of you.’
It was the piece they’d listened to before they’d made love. Allegra was jolted to the core by the fact that he was listening to it now—that he’d remembered, that he cared. ‘Why do you need reminding?’ she asked softly. ‘I’m right here.’
‘Are you?’ The question hung in the air between them, hovered like a ghost. Rafael gave her a long look before he glanced away, taking a large swallow of his drink.
‘Is this about this afternoon?’ Allegra asked after a moment. ‘Our argument?’
‘What do you mean, this?’
‘You’re sitting downstairs, listening to sad music and drinking whisky.’
Rafael looked away. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘I couldn’t either.’ She paused, then decided to up the ante, even if part of her shied away from being so vulnerable. Admitting so much. ‘The truth is, I think you’re right, at least partly. I want to believe my father still loved me because the alternative...’ She stopped, catching her breath, her heart starting to thud. Confessions like this were hard. ‘The alternative is he didn’t love me, and that means... I’m unlovable.’
Rafael lifted his head to skewer her with a burning stare. ‘You are not unlovable, Allegra.’
‘My own father?’ She tried to keep her voice light but it trembled. ‘Come on. Parents love their children. That’s a given.’
‘Maybe your father was incapable of love.’
‘You really think he was a monster,’ Allegra said slowly. Rafael didn’t answer. She stared at him, trying to divine something from the resolute, almost resigned set of his features. ‘I don’t want this to come between us, Rafael. Whatever happened...it’s in the past. Let’s leave it there.’
‘You were the one who wanted to know.’
‘And now I do.’ She drew a quick breath. ‘Is there anything more? To know?’
A pause, infinite, endless. ‘No,’ Rafael said finally. ‘Nothing important.’
Allegra supposed she should feel relieved but she didn’t. She felt anxious and also sad because, whatever Rafael had just said, she sensed that there was still something he was holding back. She could see it in his face, the set of his shoulders. He was carrying a world of sorrow, and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t know how to comfort him. But she wanted to.
‘Our son is kicking,’ she said softly. She pressed both her hands against her bump, laughing a little as their baby kicked against her palm. ‘He’s a fighter for sure. He’s kicking me right now.’ She looked up at him, a tremulous smile curving her lips. ‘Do you want to feel him?’ He hadn’t felt their baby kick since that night after the opera. They’d barely touched at all since then. It felt like a lifetime ago.
‘Yes.’ The single word was certain and utterly heartfelt. Rafael tossed his empty glass onto the table before rising from his chair and coming across the room to kneel in front of her. The warm wash of light caught the bronze strands in his dark hair, the glint of stubble on his jaw. Allegra held her breath, conscious of his closeness, his heat, the yearning inside her to reach him, comfort him. She touched his hair, threading her fingers through its softness, drawing him closer to her.
Slowly Rafael slid his hands along her bump, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thin silk of her nightgown and dressing gown. ‘You’re bigger,’ he said softly. ‘Even in just a few weeks.’
‘He is growing,’ Allegra answered with a little laugh. ‘And I’m eating better.’
‘You’re beautiful,’ Rafael answered, his tone almost fierce. ‘I’ve never seen anything so beautiful as you—as this.’ His palms curved around her belly, cradling their unborn child. Allegra’s heart bumped unsteadily as desire and something deeper flooded through her.
And then their baby kicked, a sharp flutter, almost making her wince. Rafael laughed aloud. ‘That was him.’
‘Yes.’
‘It feels so strong. Stronger than before.’
‘Yes, he’s quite a kicker.’
‘He needs to be strong. He needs to be a fighter, with what’s ahead of him.’ Allegra thought of the planned surgery, the frightening uncertainty amidst the longed-for news—and the knowledge, sweet and sure, that Rafael would be by her side for all of it. Dependence—trust—could be a wonderful thing.
‘Yes. We all have to be strong,’ she whispered.
‘It will be all right, Allegra.’ Rafael’s hands continued to cup her belly as he looked up at her, his gaze burning and intent. ‘I’ll make sure it will be all right.’
Tenderness flooded through her at his fierce expression. She knew he meant every word, and while the future held no promises or guarantees, she believed him. She believed in him, in his sincerity, and that faith compelled her to touch her hand to his cheek, her fingers smoothing across the gentle abrasion of his stubbled jaw. ‘I know you will, Rafael.’
A brighter light blazed in his eyes and he turned his face so his lips brushed her palm. A shudder went through Allegra; her body shook with the force of it, and her breath came out in a ragged gasp. To be touched again, and so sweetly, so tenderly...
‘Rafael...’ His name slipped from her lips, and then he opened his mouth and sucked on the tip of her thumb, and her whole body twanged like a bow that had been beautifully plucked. Around them the music swelled, a crescendo of sound to complement the one of sensation Allegra could feel inside her, building, building...
Rafael let go of her thumb to turn back to her, and Allegra didn’t know who moved first. With his hands on her belly and their baby between them their bodies bumped together, mouths clashing, hands tangling. The kiss went on and on, desperate, urgent and hungry, a symphony whose notes played their sweet music through her body.
Rafael’s hands went from bump to her hair and then to her shoulders and breasts, touching her everywhere, and yet it wasn’t enough. She needed him, needed now more than ever to feel the closeness, the connection she’d felt once before. And she thought he needed it too.
Then he pulled away, just a little, but it was enough to make her cry out with the loss of it, of him.
In the shadowy light from the lamp she saw his face, his expression resolute, ready, eyes like fire, a silent question waiting for her yes.
She placed one trembling hand against his chest, felt the steady, comforting thud of his heart. Pressed. Rafael glanced down at her hand, fingers spread out, seeking. He covered it with his own. They remained like that for a suspended second, everything about to tumble into free fall.
And then he bent his head, his lips a whisper away from hers, still waiting for her response. Her yes. And she gave it, leaning forward to kiss him deeply, her hands tangling in his hair, the action a promise, a vow.
He tensed under her hands and mouth, his body like a bow while she was the strings. And then the music began, a glorious symphony, as his hands came up to grip her shoulders hard and his mouth opened under hers, turning her whisper of a kiss into a shout, a plea, a demand—she answered all of them with her mouth, her body, her heart. An offering of everything she had.
His mouth moved on hers as he propelled her across the room and then up the stairs; she stumbled