A Price Worth Paying(52)

‘My God, do you actually think I want one?’

‘Why not? When you’re the one who stands to gain the most by prolonging this relationship.’

‘You think? Why the hell would I want to prolong spending time with you? No, I’m going home when this is over. A child of yours is hardly the kind of souvenir I want or need to take with me.’

‘And if it’s already happened? You can’t just wish it away.’

‘Damn you, Alesander. And whose fault would it be if there was? I told you I didn’t want to have sex with you. I told you it was the only way to guarantee there could be no complications. But did you listen to me? No. Because Mr Can’t-Live-Without-Sex couldn’t exercise a bit of self-control.’

‘And you haven’t enjoyed it? You didn’t cry out in pleasure every time you came? Every time I took you there?’

‘And that’s relevant, because? You know damned well that I didn’t want to have sex with you. You were the one who changed the terms.’

‘Terms you agreed to!’

‘Only because you threatened to tell Felipe our marriage was a sham if I didn’t!’

How else was he supposed to get her to agree? ‘You wanted it. You wanted me from that first time in my apartment. Do you think I couldn’t smell your need? Do you think I didn’t know then and there that you were gagging for it?’

The crack of her palm against his cheek punctuated the argument. For a long moment he said nothing, his nostrils flaring, his eyes like dark—angry—pits. ‘You never were very good at dealing with the truth.’

She squeezed her eyes shut. Oh God, the truth. What was the truth any more? She’d told so many lies she was beginning to forget where truth ended and the lies began. She’d lied to Felipe every time she saw him and pretended to be happy in her marriage. She’d lied to herself pretending that she didn’t want Alesander and then burning up with him at night. And now she was slapping a man she’d only just finished convincing herself that she loved. But there was one indisputable truth that he could not argue with. ‘If we are talking truths, then I know of one truth you cannot deny—that if we had kept to the original terms of the contract, if we had never had sex, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, because the chances of conceiving a baby would never have been an issue.’

Silence reigned between them, letting in the sounds of the vineyard, the rustle of leaves in the breeze and the cry of seabirds amid the heavy weighted silence of blame and regret.

‘So when will you know?’

She shook her head, dragging in air. ‘Three weeks? Most likely less.’ Hopefully less. She swallowed, a sick feeling roiling in her gut. Would he ask her to make sure? He was a man of the world. He would know there were options. At least there were in Australia …

‘I won’t …’ she started. ‘I can’t …’

‘That is not our way!’ he simply said, putting a full stop on that particular conversation. ‘Three weeks, you say?’

‘It’s early in my cycle, which is good … well … it’s better. Safer.’

‘Sí.’ He frowned. ‘I can wait that long. And meanwhile I will show you that you are wrong, that I can exercise control and live without sex.’

She laughed, the sound bitter. ‘Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?’

Maybe it was, but he could do with the time away from her. He’d enjoyed her in his bed these past few weeks, and perhaps he’d enjoyed her too much. Perhaps that was the problem.

Putting distance between them, putting up barriers, might be the best thing for them. Felipe was growing weaker—the march of his disease relentless, the damage wrought becoming more apparent by the day. Soon she’d be going home and there was no point getting used to having her around.

And he didn’t want her getting used to being around. His women were supposed to be temporary. That was the way he liked it.

That was the way he’d always liked it.

They were almost back at the cottage when they heard it, a crash followed by a muffled cry.

‘Felipe!’ she screamed alongside him, suddenly bolting for the door.

‘They won’t let him come home,’ she sniffed, sitting in a hospital waiting room chair, repeating the words the doctor had just delivered. ‘I should have been there. I should never have left him.’

‘It wouldn’t have made any difference. Felipe is ill. His bones are weak. If it didn’t happen today, it could have been tomorrow or the next day.’