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  Hilary lowered her lashes to hide the panic in her eyes.

  ‘Not that I’m complaining, you understand,’ Roel breathed huskily. ‘I’ve noticed what a pushover you are for Swiss chocolate…’

  He thought she was putting on the beef because she was stuffing herself with chocolate drinks! She rolled off him in haste.

  Roel groaned out loud and tugged her back to him by dint of his greatly superior strength. ‘Don’t be so touchy. You have a to-die-for shape. Angels in heaven would fight over you and I shall revel in keeping you stocked up with chocolate,’ he imparted. ‘It’s very refreshing to be with a woman who eats whatever she feels like.’

  So not only did he think she was overweight, but also a greedy pig into the bargain, Hilary thought crazily. If only that were true…if only an overindulgence in chocolate were responsible for the fact that her bosom had already jumped an entire cup size!

  ‘I’m going for a shower,’ she muttered, yanking herself free of his loosened hold and scrambling off the bed.

  ‘How the hell can you suffer from such low self-esteem?’ Roel sat up to demand with very male frustration.

  ‘I saw Celine…beside her, I’d probably look as heavenly in shape as Humpty Dumpty!’ Hilary fielded chokily.

  Anger brightening his spectacular gaze, Roel sprang out of bed. ‘Che idea! Celine answered my needs…but you arouse them. I can’t keep my hands off you for longer than an hour. I’ve even taken time out from the bank to be with you.’

  Her eyelids were gritty with unshed tears. ‘That’s just sex,’ she accused.

  A ferocious silence fell and she waited and she prayed for him to break that silence with even a single word of disagreement.

  Roel stared back at her with stony, stubborn intensity, black-lashed brilliant dark eyes unreadable, his long, lean, powerful frame still as a predator ready to fend off attack.

  Her throat ached so much with disappointment that it really hurt. He had not contradicted her. She should have known better than to hope that he would. With a brittle throwaway smile designed to persuade him that a purely physical relationship was fine by her, she disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

  She switched on the shower. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She choked back her sobs. Sex was all she had ever had to offer him and nobody could say he had not taken full advantage of her willingness. Or that she had any grounds for complaint. It was a week since he had brought her to Sardinia, to this fantastic coastal villa where they enjoyed complete seclusion and sheer, unvarnished luxury.

  For seven days they had been inseparable. There had been picnics on the beach, moonlight swims, late-night romantic dinners, languorous siestas in the heat of the day and long discussions about all sorts of subjects on which they rarely ever agreed. He was incredibly stimulating company and wonderfully entertaining. When he needed to work for an hour or two, she had taken to curling up nearby with a magazine and keeping him company. For her it had been a time of idyllic happiness but also a challenging time while she’d slowly struggled to come to terms with the reality that she was carrying his baby.

  Physically she was feeling terrific. But then she had been careful about what she ate and now rested whenever she felt tired. Roel had teased her about her slothful ways but her body had rewarded her newly learnt caution. The nausea had been less of a problem and she had only once felt light-headed when she stood up too fast. Yet already her body was changing to a degree where even Roel had noticed that her breasts were bigger. In fact her bras were becoming uncomfortably tight. Keeping her condition a secret would not be an option for much longer. Nevertheless she was filled with sick dread at the prospect of having to tell Roel that she had conceived.

  This time around with him she had been determined not to build fantasy castles in the air. She had faced everything in their relationship as it was and not as she would have liked it to be. Every morning, before she got around to kissing him awake in the variety of imaginative ways that he most liked, she had duly reminded herself of certain hard facts…

  He was not in love with her. He was in lust and it was lust that made him an insatiable lover. That he could spend hours just talking to her, that he could also be amazingly tender and amusing and caring, was irrelevant. After all, he was a hugely sophisticated guy and it was impossible to imagine him being guilty of coarse or ignorant behaviour. She was not his wife in the truest sense of the word because he had once given her a fee to go through that wedding ceremony with him. She was the wife he had bought, not the wife he might have chosen.

  Furthermore she would never fit the mould of the perfect partner whom he would eventually pick. She matched none of his instinctive preferences…yes, one by one, she had weaselled those preferences out of him without him even realising just how much information he was revealing. He liked leggy brunettes and his last mistress had also been terrifyingly beautiful. He thought background and breeding were important. He believed a university education was crucial. She failed on every count. She was not and never could be a wife whom he might want to keep.

  On those grounds, the news that she was expecting his baby was likely to strike Roel as a total disaster. That was why she had been so reluctant to tell him. That was why she had prevaricated for seven entire days and lived every precious moment as though it might be the last she ever spent with him. But, in all fairness to him, it was time she spoke up.

  She donned peacock-blue silk trousers with an artfully simple embroidered matching top. The shade accentuated the colour of her eyes. Only a month earlier she had worn a lot more make-up but now she applied cosmetics with a much lighter hand. Roel had introduced her to a different world and she had naturally studied the women within those exclusive circles. Always observant and quick to learn, she had soon recognised how more subtle effects could enhance her appearance. But she was growing out her short, spiky hairstyle purely for Roel’s benefit…

  ‘It’s the most fantastic colour,’ he had intoned with flattering appreciation, ‘but I want more of it, lots more of it! I want to see your hair rippling down your back like a fantastic sheet of silver, bella mia.’

  ‘But it would take for ever even for it to grow down to my shoulders,’ Hilary had complained.

  ‘I’ll wait…I can be very patient when I want something.’

  And, solely to please him, she had promised not to cut her hair short again. She had not allowed herself to wonder how many inches her spiky tresses might get to grow before how she wore them became a matter of the most complete indifference to him.

  The table was set for dinner on the terrace. It was very beautiful. Coloured glass lanterns hung in the branches of the fig tree and candles glittered in the midst of crystal glasses and gilded bone china. At a lower level and screened by vegetation she could just see a reflective glimmer of the swimming pool in the moonlight.

  It was Roel’s villa. Sometimes he only visited it once a year and some years not even that. He owned an enormous amount of property round the world. He did not like hotels. Even here, in one of the more remote locations on the island, Roel received only the best service and a chef was still on hand to produce the most superb meals. Within the cocoon of Roel’s almost unimaginable wealth he took for granted a level of freedom and comfort that other people could only dream about and envy. He had complete control. How was he likely to react to what she had to tell him? To a situation that she could not allow him to control? Her soft mouth quivered with the tempestuous emotion she was fighting to repress.

  Roel strode out to join her. ‘Turn round,’ he invited her huskily.

  A little stiffly, she obliged.

  ‘You look delectable…I could devour you like an animal,’ he confessed with a frankness that sent a piercing shard of shameful excitement flaring through her taut figure. ‘Think yourself lucky if I can restrain myself to the end of our meal.’

  In strained silence she moistened her bone-dry mouth with a hasty sip of mineral water.

 
; Keen dark golden eyes rested on her and his beautiful mouth took on a humorous quirk. ‘Humpty Dumpty…I don’t think so,’ he pronounced.

  A miserable flush lit her fair skin. She wanted to seal her lips closed, rush into his arms and hug him tight, hold onto the happiness he had given her.

  ‘You’ve been very moody the past few days,’ Roel continued.

  Disconcerted, she shot him a glance. ‘Er…I—’

  ‘One minute you’re smiling like mad and the next you’re way down deep in the doldrums and all weepy,’ Roel slotted in. ‘That’s not your nature, so I assume it’s PMT.’

  Hilary flinched and then braced herself to stand as rigid as a stick of rock. ‘I have something to tell you,’ she said starkly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  A SUDDEN irreverent smile slashed Roel’s extraordinarily handsome features. ‘Don’t take this as a criticism. As a pragmatic male, I find your natural flair for drama fascinating,’ he assured her in his dark deep drawl. ‘But may we eat first? I have to confess that I’m very hungry.’

  Nervous as a cat on hot bricks, Hilary nibbled at the soft underside of her lower lip. His raw charisma, his vast confidence that she could have nothing of any great import to confide, knocked her off balance. She sank down at the table. By the time the main course had been served, her contribution to the conversation had sunk to the level of monosyllabic responses.

  ‘When you go this quiet, it worries me,’ Roel commented.

  ‘Sometimes I talk too much,’ she said uncomfortably.

  ‘But I’m so accustomed to it now that I like it, cara mia.’

  Roel stroked a blunt forefinger down over her clenched fingers where they rested on the pristine table cloth. ‘Obviously I miscalculated when I implied that you couldn’t have anything that couldn’t stand a rain check to tell me.’

  ‘Yes…’ Hilary swallowed hard. ‘But it’s not something you could have guessed and I—’

  His intent gaze flashed a sudden stormy gold. ‘Did you sleep with that guy I surprised on your doorstep in London?’

  That icy demand shook her. ‘Gareth? No…no, of course not!’

  ‘Just checking out my worst case scenario,’ Roel told her, deadpan.

  ‘Will you hear me out before you say anything?’ Hilary pressed unevenly.

  ‘I’m not in the habit of shouting people down.’

  ‘Don’t be angry with me…I know that’s going to be hard but don’t be angry with me,’ she heard herself plead and she despised her own weakness. ‘In one sense, we’re both responsible.’

  Hard jaw line clenching at that statement, Roel surveyed her with narrowed eyes. ‘The point being? My patience has limits…’

  ‘I’m…’ She fiddled with the fork in her hand and put it down, her insides hollow with fear and lack of food for she had been unable to bring herself to eat a morsel. ‘I’ve fallen pregnant…it happened the first week we were together.’

  His natural colour ebbed from below his healthy olive skin, accentuating the slashing prominence of his superb bone structure.

  ‘I know you’ve got to be shocked. I was shocked too,’ she admitted tightly.

  Shimmering golden eyes executed a search and destroy mission over her shrinking figure. In one powerfully revealing motion, Roel thrust back his chair and sprang upright. He strode over to the wall like a tiger on the prowl and stood looking out into the night. In the terrible silence, the surge of the surf on the beach sounded eerily loud.

  Awkwardly she cleared her throat. ‘I never dreamt that I would end up in bed with you and, when it happened, I didn’t even think about contraception. There was so much else going on and I knew I shouldn’t have let you make love to me and I felt so guilty…all those things got in the way.’

  His back was still turned to her. She longed for him to turn round. His broad shoulders were rigid with tension, corded muscle visible beneath the thin, expensive fabric of his black short-sleeved shirt.

  ‘I know you’re annoyed about this.’ She pleated her fingers together in a strained gesture. ‘That’s OK…that’s understandable. You weren’t expecting this situation to develop. But I wasn’t either. I couldn’t cope with a termination though, so let’s not discuss that…’

  In receipt of that hoarse plea for his understanding on that score, Roel swung round and directed a bleak look at her from impassive eyes so dark they chilled her to the marrow.

  ‘I know…I know. Maybe you didn’t even want to discuss that option. But it’s easier if I say now that this may not be a planned baby but I-I’ll make it welcome all the same,’ she stammered. ‘Although, right now, I just feel scared and overwhelmed by all this.’

  Roel helped himself to a very stiff whisky and tossed it back in one unappreciative gulp.

  Her taut face stamped with apprehension, Hilary rose from behind the table and moved on stiff legs to the middle of the terrace. ‘Please say something…’

  ‘You’re now the future mother of my child.’ The insolent edge to his intonation somehow made the label sound like a freezingly polite term of abuse and she stiffened and paled. ‘I have to be very careful what I say to you. A pregnant wife has many rights and not the least is civilised consideration for her condition. How long have you known?’

  ‘Since you called in that nice doctor after I fainted.’

  Roel bit out a harsh laugh. ‘That long? How did you manage to keep your promising announcement under wraps all of this week?’

  ‘Easily…if I could have run away from it, I would’ve,’ she confided half under her breath. ‘I didn’t…don’t want to lose you—’

  Hard dark eyes assailed hers with merciless force. ‘You never had me…except in the most basic way.’

  ‘I know,’ she whispered jaggedly. ‘But this is still about to wreck what we have.’

  ‘Don’t presume to know what I think or I feel. Or what I intend to do next,’ Roel advised her grimly.

  ‘You’re free to tell me what you’re thinking. I won’t take offence.’ She was desperate to bridge the chasm that had opened up between them and if the truth hurt, so be it.

  His lean, intelligent face hardened. ‘Bene…very well. Why should I be surprised by your achievement? The babies in the Sabatino family have always come with a very large price label attached.’

  ‘Not our baby…’ Hilary told him with fierce conviction.

  Ruthless cynicism laced the derisive light in his keen gaze. He strode past her as if she weren’t there and went indoors. After a disconcerted pause she chased after him and caught up with him in the main hall as he was leaving the villa.

  ‘Not our baby,’ she said again and her voice might have quivered but her eyes were resolute and she frowned. ‘Are you going out?’

  Roel dealt her a hard mocking look. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘That’s my business.’

  Long after his departure, she was still hovering in the hall hugging herself as if she were cold. Eventually she pulled herself together and walked back out to the terrace. The staff had already cleared the table. She thought of the tiny life in her womb and wondered if it was suffering because she hadn’t eaten and her eyes stung like mad. She ordered toast and a chocolate drink for supper.

  And all the time she was trying not to dwell on how Roel had behaved. As if he utterly despised her. As if she was beneath contempt. As if she had got pregnant deliberately and planned to sell her baby to him for the highest possible price. He had hurt her but she still felt that it was better that he had voiced what he was feeling. But she wished he had not gone out. An hour after his departure, she called him on his mobile phone.

  ‘Are you coming home soon?’ she asked with fake cheer.

  ‘I’m not coming home at all,’ Roel breathed icily.

  ‘Before you make your mind up about that,’ Hilary muttered anxiously, ‘I should warn you that if you stay out all night I’ll be very unhappy about it. I don’t think I could just sit here
waiting either. I’d be so worried I’d have to come and look for you—’

  ‘We are not having this conversation.’ He killed the call.

  Half an hour later, bolstered by her toast, she called him back. When he answered she heard a soft feminine giggle somewhere close by and her heart sank to her toes. ‘Are you with a woman?’ she demanded sickly.

  ‘If you phone again, I won’t answer.’

  ‘I think we’re worth fighting for but I couldn’t forgive infidelity…’ she warned him shakily, her throat thick with tears.

  ‘Emotional blackmail doesn’t work with me.’

  ‘What about hysterics? Look, I know I sound like a maniac but all I want is for you to come back here and talk.’

  ‘But I don’t want to and you will not make me do what I don’t want to do.’

  It was one in the morning when Roel appeared in the bedroom doorway. She was lying awake in the moonlight and she had left the door wide so that she could listen out for his return. Sitting up with a jerk, she switched on the bedside lamps. Black hair tousled, dark stubble outlining his obdurate jaw line, Roel stared across the depth of the room at her. Without hesitation, she scrambled off the bed and raced over to hurl herself at him. He had come back. That was all she cared about at that instant.

  ‘No…’ That single word was very decisive, very, very unyielding. He set her back from him with cool hands.

  She fell back a step, horribly crushed by that rejection, suddenly conscious that with her mussed hair and red swollen eyes she had to look like hell. She was also fearfully aware of the weak part of her willing to do or say anything to hold onto him. But she knew that wouldn’t work. If she crawled, Roel would walk right over the top of her and despise her even more.

  ‘I’ve reached certain decisions,’ Roel delivered.

  ‘It takes two people to make a decision in a marriage,’ Hilary dared.

  ‘Not when only one of them is in the wrong,’ Roel splintered back at her without hesitation.

  Hilary sucked in a slow deep breath. If she fought with him, he would only get angrier. It wouldn’t hurt her to stand a little humble pie while emotions got the chance to simmer down.