Finally, her eyelashes fluttered and slowly her eyelids rose to reveal deep, mysterious emerald pools that swam with emotions he couldn’t name. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry.” Disgusted with himself, he looked away from her. “I should be treating you more carefully—”
“I’m not sorry about almost fainting,” she said, smiling. “I meant I was sorry to have gotten into a shouting match with you. I’m not usually such a shrew.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he told her firmly. “You weren’t the only one shouting, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I’d noticed,” she said in a dry tone. Then her face sobered. “I’m also sorry for treating your feelings and wishes as if they count for nothing. I don’t want to deny you your child.”
“We can talk about that later,” he said, anxious not to let more discord mar the day. She still might not understand that marriage wasn’t negotiable; it was a fact, but there was nothing to be gained by antagonizing her again right now.
An odd odor assailed his nostrils, almost as if something was burning—
“The casserole!” they shouted in unison as Rafe bolted for the kitchen.
Five
Marrying him was out of the question.
As she applied mascara to her lashes several days later, Elizabeth felt a definite kick just beneath the right side of her rib cage. Laying her hand gently over the swell of her belly, she thought again of the father of the baby growing within her.
Again? That was a bit of a lie, she thought ruefully. Rafe Thorton had been in her thoughts since the night he’d taken her into the garden house and he hadn’t left yet.
What was she going to do? He hadn’t sounded as if he was kidding when he’d told her she would marry him. Not kidding at all. Even though she knew he didn’t love her, knew she was one of the last women on earth he’d ever take as wife of his own free will, he planned to marry her to provide his child with a legitimate heritage.
An admirable intent, certainly. It would be even more admirable if she wasn’t the one he was intent on marrying.
Rafe’s intense blue eyes materialized in her mental meanderings and she groaned. If only the darned man wasn’t so appealing. Irresistible. Adorable… He’d die if he heard that description, she thought with a soft chuckle. But the chuckle dried in her throat when she recalled the sharp words they’d exchanged.
Since their last confrontation they’d been as polite as casual acquaintances, avoiding anything the least bit controversial. He’d taken her to the Parada del Sol, they’d watched the beginning of a hot air balloon race and, at dawn the day before he’d driven her into the desert to watch the sun rise. He’d been gracious, friendly…and as remote as a distant moon.
There was no way they could marry. Aside from the attraction that seemed to charge the air between them, they had nothing in common. He’d been independent for more than a decade, had lived in the States long enough to be truly an American now. She was enjoying her experience in the country immeasurably, but she’d never known the kind of freedom these people took for granted.
She loved and respected her family. Though Rafe had said little about his own, she had gotten the distinct impression he wasn’t particularly fond of his nearest kin.
She’d been raised with an exceptionally fine liberal arts education that had prepared her for no practical work. Rafe had used his education to carve out an amazingly successful career for himself.
No, marriage was definitely out of the question, regardless of what Rafe had said about Las Vegas.
Las Vegas! Oh, how she’d love to see it. Serena had been married there a short time ago in one of those “have to see it to believe it” chapels, as her sister had put it, laughing gaily. Elizabeth had gotten on the Internet this afternoon and looked up some information on the town that had risen in the middle of the Nevada desert. It certainly looked like a fascinating place and she was determined to visit it one day.
The baby stirred beneath her palm and she rubbed her hand over her belly again, sighing. The next few months couldn’t go fast enough. Not only was she aching with the need to hold her child in her arms, she was nearly as excited at the thought of having a waistline again.
It was bad enough that Rafe had to provoke her into acting like a fishwife, but even worse that she felt so fat and unattractive around him. She longed for her former slim figure, the figure she’d had when they’d first met and he hadn’t known who she was.
A knock on the door of her suite startled her and she nearly dropped the mascara wand she was still holding.
“Are you ready?”
“Almost. Just give me a moment.”
Hastily she finished adding the little makeup she normally wore and picked up her jacket and bag from where she’d laid them on the bed. Opening the door, she stepped into the hallway to face Rafe and her breath caught in her throat.
He was so handsome. In a simple cream shirt and khaki pants, he managed to look better to her than other men did in a tux. He smiled when he saw her, and the deep creases his dimples made flashed in his lean cheeks.
“Ready to go?” he asked her.
“Ready.” As he took her elbow and escorted her through the house she added, “Though it might be nice to know where we’re headed.”