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  She could already hear Raul talking as she reached the door of the room he had been using as an office.

  ‘...an I bored?’ Raul was saying with husky amusement. ‘On my honeymoon, Melina?’ And then, ruefully, ‘I’m thinking in English these days!’

  Polly froze in her tracks. Her heart was thumping so hard it felt as if it was banging in her ears, and she had to strain to hear. The silence went on and on. She peered round the door lintel and glimpsed Raul, poised with his back to the door, wide shoulders bunching with tension below the superb cut of his lightweight cream jacket, bronzed fingers beating out a rapid soundless tattoo on the edge of the desk.

  ‘Of course I appreciate your loyalty, Melina,’ Raul continued in a roughened sexy undertone. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight too. No, I don’t think it should be too difficult. I’m not on a leash yet.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘YOU still look rough. You should lie down,’ Raul decreed as he walked Polly up the steps into the ranch.

  ‘What about the fiesta... all the people coming?’ Polly mumbled sickly, edging away from him as soon as she decently could.

  ‘It’s been happening for over a hundred years without you, mi esposa,’ Raul responded in a teasing tone as he bent to lift her gently up into his arms and stride towards the magnificent staircase. ‘Just go to bed and stay there until you feel better. That’s the only important thing.’

  Shock had unsettled her stomach. She had been sick during the flight, convincing Raul that she had caught some bug. He could not have been more caring and concerned had she developed a life-threatening illness. And she couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear him near her, yet couldn’t bear him out of her sight either for fear of what he might be doing or even thinking.

  Listening to Raul on the phone to Melina D’Agnolo had shattered her. Now, as he carried her past the superb flower arrangements which had appeared everywhere, and the frantically busy staff excited about the party which kicked off the weekend festivities, Polly felt like the weakest of the weak. No way was she going to be lying in bed this evening like a party pooper while Melina held the floor!

  Raul set her upright in their bedroom. Confront him, screamed through her mind in letters of taunting fire. She walked over to the windows, torn by conflicting desires. She wanted to see them together first. She wanted to confront them. If she tried to confront Raul now, what did she base her accusations on? His appreciation of Melina’s loyalty? Or that simple sentence ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight’?

  It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t evidence of anything he couldn’t explain away. But the very fact he had been on the phone talking to Melina like that...it ripped Polly apart. She had genuinely trusted him, sincerely come to believe that it was only her own insecurity which was tormenting her...

  ‘Do you think a married man needs a mistress?’ she asked abruptly.

  Silence stretched.

  Polly spun round. Raul looked slightly bemused, a frown line etched between his expressive brows. Then a splintering smile slashed his beautiful mouth. ‘Not if he spends as much time in bed with his wife as I do!’

  ‘It was a serious question, Raul.’

  ‘Only not a very sensible one. With my background, the answer would be absolutely not. A divorce would be a better option,’ Raul drawled reflectively.

  Having invited that opinion, Polly’s stomach curdled. She turned back to the windows on unsteady legs.

  ‘Is there something you want to discuss with me?’ Raul enquired in smooth invitation.

  ‘Nothing.’ Not without proof. She wasn’t about to risk tearing their marriage apart without proper proof.

  ‘I have this feeling that something is playing on your mind...it’s not the first time I’ve had it.’

  Taken aback by that assurance, Polly linked her unsteady hands tightly together and stared out of the window, seeing nothing. She might as well have been staring into space. Raul strolled to her side and followed the apparent path of her gaze.

  Patrick Gorman was giving instructions to a group of workmen who were stringing up extra lighting in the gardens below.

  ‘If I was the jealous type,’ Raul breathed with sudden startling rawness, ‘I’d go down there and kill him because you’re looking at him!’

  Polly focused on Patrick for the first time in complete bewilderment, like someone who had missed a crucial sentence that made sense of inexplicable behaviour. ‘I wasn’t looking at him...why would I want to look at him, for heaven’s sake?’

  Raul punched the button that closed the curtains with what struck her as quite unnecessary force. Polly surveyed him. A devastatingly handsome male in a seething rage. She blinked. He strode out of the room without a backward glance.

  He’s jealous of Patrick. Polly slowly shook her head at that strikingly obvious revelation. Why hadn’t she made that connection before? Right from the minute he had seen her chattering happily to the young Englishman Raul had been warning her off him. Yet how could he possibly be jealous of another man when he was planning to continue his affair with Melina?

  But then wasn’t that men the world over? she reflected with newly learnt cynicism. Some men only valued a woman when another man admired her, or when they thought that they themselves were no longer desired. And then a man could be possessive without loving. Which category did Raul fall into? Or was it simply that, as his wife, he now regarded her in the light of a possession?

  She sank down on the edge of the bed, dry-eyed but pale as milk. Was Melina simply a habit with Raul? When he had told her that he appreciated her loyalty what had he meant? Had he been thanking her for patiently waiting for him? Did he honestly think he had a hope in hell of continuing such an affair without being found out?

  The door opened again. Raul hovered for a split second, as if somewhat unsure of his welcome, and then extended his hand to her, one of his sudden flashing smiles driving all reserve from his lean bronzed features. ‘We have a visitor, gatita.’ he announced. ‘My grandfather is here.’

  Fidelio Navarro was stationed in the hall, curling his hat round and round between strained hands. Polly hurried down the stairs to greet him, breaking the ice by going straight up to him and leaning forward to kiss him on both cheeks, as one did with family members. He smiled and relaxed perceptibly while Raul translated her welcome with the air of a male grateful for the distraction.

  Upstairs, Polly lifted Luis out of his cot and laid him in Fidelio’s sturdy arms. The old man heaved a giant sigh and slowly shook his silvered head, openly overcome by the sight of his great-grandson.

  ‘He says...Luis has my mother’s eyes,’ Raul translated gruffly.

  Fidelio’s eyes swam, his mouth tightening, his emotions too near the surface for him to say anything more. Polly accepted Luis back and looked at Raul hovering, her own gaze expectant. ‘You go and have a celebration drink and talk now,’ she instructed, knowing she had to spell it all out, afraid that, left to his own devices, Raul might duck the issue and take grateful refuge in polite conversation. ‘You’ll talk about your mother...and how much you loved her, and how good things are going to be now in this family. ’

  ‘Sí...’ Raul dug his clenched fists tautly into his trouser pockets and bent his imperious dark head, swallowing hard.

  Fidelio and Raul walked out of the room together about a foot apart.

  Polly drew in a slow, deep breath and said a prayer that with a little give and take on both sides the barriers would finally come down between the two men. The older man needed to be completely sure of his welcome in this house. Without that confidence, he wouldn’t visit again.

  Two hours later, from the vantage point of an upper window, she watched Fidelio wrap his arms round Raul and hug him fiercely before he climbed back onto his horse outside the house. A tide of relief rolled over her. Clearly Raul hadn’t backed off and stood on his dignity. She was satisfied then.

  ‘I wouldn’t call them gifts,’ Raul delivered some hours la
ter, looking deadly serious in the reflection Polly could see of him in the mirror as she dazedly fingered the fabulous diamond necklace and earrings he had just presented her with. ‘They belonged to my mother, so now they’re yours.’

  Polly stared down at the fabulous river of diamonds and the teardrop earrings with a lump in her throat. ‘They’re out of this world.’

  Lifting the necklace, Raul clasped it round her throat. ‘No one but me ever saw her wear them. My father never took her out in public.’

  Polly gulped. ‘Oh, heavens...that’s so sad!’

  ‘No, mi esposa.’ Raul watched her put on the earrings and then stand up. ‘We’re a different generation, and the Zaforteza family has enjoyed a rebirth. I’m very grateful that the warmth I foolishly condemned you for has helped to heal the wounds of the past and persuade Fidelio to become a part of our lives.’

  Wrinkling her nose to hold back tears in receipt of that surprisingly humble accolade, Polly turned to study her reflection in the cheval mirror. She looked elegant, with her hair swept up in a French roll, loose tendrils curling round her face. And then there was the dress, the designer sleeveless evening gown in green with the wonderful sweeping neckline and elaborate gilded embroidery, not to mention the spike-heeled shoes and all the diamonds catching fire under the lights. But none of that meant anything when set beside the burning sincerity she had glimpsed in Raul’s stunning golden eyes. That filled her to bursting point with love.

  Without the slightest warning, Raul reached for her hand and practically crushed the life from her fingers with the unwitting fierceness of his grip. He exhaled in a stark hiss. ‘I think I love you...’

  Polly’s eyes opened very wide, and then flooded with pain. She hauled her fingers free in a gesture of repudiation. ‘No, you don’t. You’re just feeling grateful and more emotional than usual,’ she told him unevenly. ‘Don’t call that love.’

  ‘I said it wrong, but I haven’t had a lot of practice at this!’ Raul gritted rawly. ‘I shouldn’t have said, I think—’

  ‘You shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that nothing short of true love will satisfy me,’ Polly responded tautly, the stress and strain of the day mounting up to betray her into saying exactly what she was thinking. ‘Actually, fidelity would do...so there, I’ve finally lowered my expectations to a more realistic level!’

  His fabulous bone structure prominent with tension beneath his bronzed skin, Raul dealt her a thunderous look of disbelief that shook her. He parted his lips to respond at the same moment that an urgent knock sounded on the door.

  ‘Our guests have begun to arrive,’ he relayed seconds later.

  Before he could leave the room, Polly rushed over to him, all cool abandoned in the growing awareness that she had reacted in the worst possible way, her blue eyes deeply troubled and full of guilt. ‘Raul, I didn’t mean...you took me by—’

  ‘Relax...you’ve cured me of my delusional state,’ he derided, silencing her, convincing her that he could only have spoken those words out of an impulsive need to reward her in some way for helping to bring him and his grandfather to a closer understanding.

  It was not a good moment to go downstairs and discover that Melina D’Agnolo had arrived with the first wave of guests. Melina—spectacular in a glittering scarlet dress, blonde hair gleaming and a brilliant smile on her ripe pink mouth.

  ‘What a lovely dress,’ she said sweetly, and passed on.

  Loads of baggage was being carried upstairs. Not everyone was staying the whole weekend, and not everyone was sleeping in the house. The equestrian centre had a spacious block of comfortable accommodation, used when Raul staged polo matches and occasional conferences, and many of their guests would be staying there. In the busy buzz of people, several different languages filling the air, Polly suffered a stark instant of panic, and then she drew in a deep, steadying breath and took her place at Raul’s side.

  Since being nice had never been a challenge for Polly—ironically with anyone but Raul—she soon found that natural friendliness was all that was required, and the approval in Raul’s eyes soon dissolved her anxiety about socialising. Mid-way through the evening a fabulous fireworks display brought everyone out into the gardens. Polly was walking back indoors, hanging back to wait for Raul, who was chatting to a group of men, when Melina approached her.

  ‘You watch him like an anxious mother, don’t you?’ It was an open sneer.

  Polly coloured, suddenly painfully conscious that, whether she liked it or not, she had been sticking to Raul rather like superglue.

  ‘Draped in diamonds worth millions,’ Melina scorned with glittering green eyes. ‘I hope they comfort you for sleeping alone at night.’

  As Polly paled, the beautiful blonde flung her a triumphant look and strolled past her.

  A pair of lean hands settled unexpectedly on her taut shoulders from behind. ‘Dios mío, how wonderfully friendly Melina’s being!’ Raul drawled above her slightly downbent head.

  Polly jerked as if he had slapped her. ‘Actually...’

  ‘Actually?’ Raul encouraged silkily.

  ‘She was admiring my diamonds,’ Polly completed dully.

  ‘She’s very fond of jewels...but not of her own sex.’

  And who would know that best but him? That statement only served to remind Polly that Raul had intimate knowledge of Melina’s character. It made her feel more isolated than ever.

  The musicians began to play the haunting country music of the llanos and one of them began to sing. ‘What is he singing about?’ she whispered.

  ‘A broken heart...it may well be mine,’ Raul breathed with stark impatience, releasing her to stride back indoors.

  Did he care about Melina? Really care? Might he only have realised that after their marriage? Stranger things had happened, and she could not say that Raul was a male noticeably in touch with his own feelings except where Luis was concerned. So why had he told her that he thought he loved her?

  As a reward? Those words were so easy to say. Out of guilt? Knowing that he was about to betray her, had he tossed that declaration at her like a consolation prize? Or to take the edge off any suspicions she might develop about his fidelity? And yet, strangely, that was the second time Raul had invited her to talk to him about what she had on her mind. Raul knew something was wrong. He had freely admitted that Melina didn’t like her own sex, almost as if he didn’t trust the beautiful blonde...

  Any more than you trust him? That accidental comparison shocked Polly. For trust had been there until she’d overheard that phone call. And before that call, whenever she’d thought of telling Raul all the horrible things which Melina had slung at her, she had remembered that nasty little scene on the jet, and then the way he had walked out on her that same day after calling her obsessively jealous. Furthermore, she had no evidence of anything that Melina had said. Was she now trying to work herself up to running and telling tales like an immature little girl? Or was she seriously waiting for Raul to make some sort of move on Melina, who already seemed so unbearably smug tonight? Like a temporarily forsaken mistress aware that her star was now in the ascendant again?

  Patrick wandered over to speak to her. ‘I thought I’d avoid you while Raul was around,’ he shared in an undertone, glancing rather anxiously around himself, like a man watching out for trouble.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Raul is a Latin American male to his fingertips. I used to think he wasn’t, except when he was being a killer on the polo field. Then he married you, and all of a sudden that cool front is cracking. I honestly don’t think he can stand another man within twenty feet of you.’

  ‘Really?’ Polly lifted her head, a fledgling smile curving her lips because she was ready at that moment to snatch at any straw.

  ‘So, if you don’t mind, I won’t ask you to dance.’

  ‘No problem. I want to dance with Raul.’ Polly drifted off, her mind made up. Time to stop avoiding the issue and allowing Me
lina to make her miserable and call all the shots. It was time to fight back and do the sensible thing, which was to talk to Raul.

  So, in the mood she was in, it wasn’t pleasant to find Raul, standing in a corner with a brooding look of darkness on his starkly handsome features, and Melina, chattering in that covert, intimate way she always embraced around him, her exquisite face soft with a cloying smile.

  But Polly walked right over. ‘Would you like to dance, Raul?’ she asked in a rather high-pitched voice, and with a sudden spooky horror that he might say no and humiliate her.

  Melina raised a brow and averted her eyes, a selfsatisfied little smile playing about her lips. Raul strode forward, eyes blazing hot gold as they whipped over his wife’s flushed and unhappy expression.

  He closed an arm around her, and instead of taking her onto the floor to dance, he guided her out into the softly lit greater privacy of the gardens.

  ‘I didn’t really want to dance,’ Polly admitted unevenly, wondering why on earth he should look so scorchingly angry. ‘I needed to talk to you in private. And if you’re annoyed now, you’re probably going to be even more annoyed when I’ve finished talking...so possibly we should take a raincheck on this until later...’

  Polly got two steps away, and then was unceremoniously pulled back by the lean hand that closed round hers.

  ‘No raincheck. You were saying?’

  Polly breathed in deep to steady herself. She could not say that harsh tone was the most inviting she had ever heard. ‘I heard you talking to Melina on the phone at the villa—’

  ‘Did you indeed?’ Raul threw that query like a gauntlet.

  It wasn’t quite the response she had expected.

  Polly became even more flustered. ‘I want you to know that up until that point I trusted you...and you may wonder why I should say that, but, you see, Melina told me she was your mistress the first day I came here, and she said that you’d go back to her...and that night you did go over there, and even though you said it was to see Fidelio—’