‘Imogen, tell me what’s brought you here.’
‘I came here to bring you this.’
As their words clashed in the air, slowly Raoul realised that Imogen was holding up a briefcase, pushing it towards him as if she wanted him to take it.
‘What is it?’
‘There’s no need to look at it as if it’s a snake about to bite you!’
There was a shaken edge of laughter in Imogen’s voice.
‘It’s just paper.’
‘Paper?’
He didn’t understand or believe that, Imogen knew. It was stamped all over his face. And the way he eyed the briefcase tugged on something in her heart, so she couldn’t drag this out any further.
‘These came on Monday.’
Snapping open the briefcase, she pulled out the sheaf of papers it contained and waved it in front of him.
‘From you.’
Could his eyes look any more blank or his face show any less expression? That was what gave him away to her, telling her without words just how hard he was fighting not to reveal anything.
‘Yes. I wanted you to have them.’
Then when she caught her breath in an effort not to break down, to tell him what she really felt, his eyes flashed to her face and she saw the burn of intense emotion flaring in their golden depths.
‘I told you I would make everything all right. I promised,’ he said.
‘You promised.’ Slow and careful, it revealed the battle she was having for control of herself. ‘You promised—but you didn’t ask if it was what I wanted.’
‘Imogen, it was what I owed you. What you would have had if you’d married Adnan—what I took from you.’
‘No.’
She saw the swift dark frown, the burn of anxiety on his face, and it almost destroyed her. But she’d started on this now; there was no going back. And this was the only way to show him the truth. To show him how she felt.
‘No, Raoul, you took nothing from me.’
‘I did.’ It was raw and ragged, his hand coming up in a gesture of surrender. ‘Everything I did was wrong. I ruined your wedding plans, I behaved like a monster and I destroyed the future of the stud—your father’s freedom. If you’d married Adnan…’
‘But the truth is that I could never—would never—have married him,’ Imogen admitted, knowing there was no way forward but the truth. ‘Even if you hadn’t turned up, I could never have gone through with it. I knew that. I was thinking it already in the church, that day you found me. And then when I saw you there—well, nothing was the same after that. I don’t know what I would have done, what I could have done, but, once I remembered that you were in the world, how could I ever marry another man?’
‘But…’ It was just a croak of sound, of disbelief.
‘Yes, I know. There was everything Adnan had promised me—and everything I’d promised him. But how could I go through with that? How could I marry him, have his baby, when the only child I ever wanted was the one we made between us? The one that…’
‘Oh, mon Dieu!’
Raoul was moving forward, enfolding her in his arms, holding her tightly. The briefcase fell to the floor and the papers she still held were crushed between them.
‘Imogen—I wish I’d known.’ The thickness of his tone told her of the emotion that clogged his throat, and the rough, unsteady pulse of his heart underneath her cheek revealed the struggle he was having for any degree of composure.
‘I wish I had known. I wish I could have done something.’
‘There was nothing anyone could have done.’ It was barely a whisper, buried in the protective cave of his arms, but she knew he had heard it when she felt the heavy, raw intake of his breath and the sorrowful nod of his head in acknowledgement.
‘But I could at least have been there.’
‘And how I wish you had been. We both lost so much that day.’
‘Because I listened to the wrong person,’ Raoul admitted, the words rasping desperately.
‘You’d been hurt—badly. I never realised quite how badly until I came here and saw…’
From under his arms her hand waved unsteadily, taking in the luxurious surroundings, the huge estate beyond the glass doors. ‘It must be so hard to know whether someone wants you for you—or for…’ Her voice sank even lower. ‘Or for this.’