‘I would have been here earlier but there was an accident.’
‘Not you? Your sister?’
The sharpness of his voice gave her room to hope.
‘No, not me. And not Ciara either. I still don’t know where she is—or Adnan. She rang me again, just once. Said she and Adnan were fine—but they wanted to be by themselves for a while. I had to promise not to try and find them—or let anyone else do it. No, my father had a fall from Blackjack, and we had to get him to hospital. He broke his leg—but he’s doing well now.’
‘So why aren’t you there with him?’
‘He told me to come, and I had to talk to you anyway. We can’t go on as things are.’
‘We can’t? I thought things were exactly as you wanted them.’
There was no warmth in his response, no light in those beautiful eyes. Had she got this all wrong? Had she misread him? The memory of that gesture of his hand from his head to his heart had been playing on a loop inside her thoughts over and over again, ever since the morning he’d declared he couldn’t forgive himself.
‘It’s not how I want things. Look—do we have to do this out here? Couldn’t we go inside and talk?’
‘Of course.’
Stiff-backed, stiff-faced, he strode past her towards the door, pushing it open and holding it so she could precede him. Was she imagining things or was he holding himself just that little bit too far away, making sure no part of her body touched him as she stepped into the cool, tiled hallway? After the sun outside, the interior seemed dark and she had to stand, blinking, as her eyes adjusted to the change in light. Behind her she heard Raoul come inside too and stand so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her neck.
‘I’ve missed you too,’ he said, low, rough and totally unexpected.
‘What?’
Imogen spun round, her hair swinging out again, catching on the rough stubble on his chin. It was the look in his eyes that caught and held her as his hand went up to free the shiny black strands. It was only when she had to take in a long, deep breath, and then another, that Imogen realised he was taking far too long about it, his fingers lingering, reluctant to let go.
‘Raoul…’
His head snapped up, the mouth that had softened, lips parting, clamping tightly shut again.
‘I’m forgetting my manners. Would you like a drink? Some coffee—or perhaps water?’
‘To hell with your manners!’
She couldn’t hold it back and knew from the stunned blink that the force of her response had shocked him.
‘That isn’t what I came here for!’
‘Then why are you here?’
He’d made a mistake with that admission of missing her, Raoul acknowledged to himself. It was stupid and totally inappropriate after the efforts he’d made to free her from the relationship that he’d made such a mess of. But he hadn’t been able to hold it back. In the moment that she’d walked past him and he’d caught the soft scent of her skin, mixed with a delicate floral perfume that the warmth of the sun had brought to the surface, he had felt every cell in his body awaken to the intoxication of her presence and the revival of the memories he’d been struggling to put aside. They were the images that had haunted his thoughts, tormented his body, every night as he’d tried to settle to sleep. In the end, he had given in and gone out to the stables, saddled one of the horses and ridden through the darkness of the night until both he and the stallion were slow with tiredness and his eyes were closing even as he headed home.
But, once back inside the house in his bed, even the exhaustion had failed to claim him. He’d lain, staring up at the darkness of the sky, fighting an ugly battle with the images of Imogen as he had last seen her playing across his mind, tormenting his body into further restlessness.
The Imogen who had turned up so unexpectedly at his door could have been the girl he had met two years before. The loose waves of her dark hair gleamed in the sunlight, and the soft cotton of her simple blue dress was so much like the sundresses she had worn before that just for a moment he’d actually let himself think that he was back in that time. Back in the days when their relationship had been new and fresh, and he’d had hopes of a future.