With the silent step of a panther stalking its prey Rafael closed the space between them, and Lottie suddenly found herself staring at the broad sweep of his chest.
‘Practicalities can always be sorted out.’
As he spoke over the top of her head Lottie realised too late that she had chosen a foolish argument. Rafael was the supreme master of being practical, sorting things out. As Conte di Monterrato that was what he did on a daily basis—oversaw the running of the principality, planned for its future, solved the problems. And that was exactly what he was doing now.
So close to him now, Lottie breathed in his familiar scent—the faint tang of cologne mixed with soap and something else, something indefinably, yearningly Rafael. She could almost feel the intensity that emanated from him, rolling her way, threatening to engulf her.
‘I don’t want you to think for one minute that I am underestimating the enormity of what I am asking of you.’ His voice was very low, earnest. ‘But at the same time...’ his eyes ruthlessly scanned her face ‘...I don’t believe it is an entirely selfish request. I know what being a mother would mean to you.’
Lottie gulped back the lump in her throat, her eyes widening at his startling assumption. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I saw you, Lottie.’ His pause shimmered with raw emotion. ‘I saw the look of euphoria on your face when we found out that you were pregnant—saw the way your maternal instinct kicked in, stronger than any other bond. And then...’ He carried on, even though he looked as if he was hurting inside. ‘I saw the way you held our daughter in your arms.’
‘No. Stop!’ This was more than Lottie could bear and her hands flew to cover her ears.
‘Admit it, Lottie. It was never me that you wanted, was it?’ Relentlessly he surged on. ‘It was the baby. The baby was the only thing that mattered. The only reason you ever agreed to marry me. And our marriage was nothing more than a sham. Your final brutal declaration—everything about your behaviour, in fact—points to that one undeniable truth.’
‘I won’t listen to this any more!’ Turning away, Lottie stumbled towards the door, but he was still there—following her, beside her.
‘You can still have that dream, Lottie. Even though our marriage may be over in all but name we can still be parents—you can still be that mother.’
‘I have no idea why you are saying this.’ Blinking back the emotion that was stinging her eyes, Lottie rounded on him, drawing on every last bit of strength she possessed. ‘I can only assume you are confusing this with what you want, not me.’
‘Maybe I thought that too at first.’ Rafael positioned himself in front of the door, his towering shape blocking Lottie’s exit. ‘Until I saw the look on your face just now. I’m right, aren’t I? You want a baby every bit as much as I do.’
‘No, you are not right.’ Futilely trying to move him out of the way, Lottie grabbed hold of the door handle and tugged at it forcefully.
The door opened two inches before it slammed against Rafael.
‘Be careful what you decide, Lottie.’ He looked down at her calmly, totally ignoring the door battering against his heels as she continued to tug at it. ‘Whatever you do, don’t let your contempt for me influence your decision—get in the way of your own happiness.’
Finally he moved to one side and the door flew open, sending Lottie teetering off balance.
‘That would never do.’
* * *
Kicking off her boots, Lottie threw herself down on to the four-poster bed and stared at the tapestry drapes above her, her breath heaving unsteadily in her chest, tears now threatening to spill. How could he do this to her? Taunt her with her failed attempt at motherhood using the preciously painful memories of Seraphina. It was simply cruel.
But that was Rafael. She knew he would stop at nothing to achieve his goal—use anything at his disposal to get what he wanted. Even if it meant tearing open her heart in the process.
Like a double-edged sword, the pain cut both ways, and one slash undoubtedly revealed the truth. She had always wanted to be a mother. Not in the vague, one day it would be nice, mentally picking out cute names way that her girlfriends seemed to view motherhood, but with a deep, unfathomable yearning that was intrinsically a part of who she was.
Maybe her own dysfunctional upbringing had made her realise that being a mother was the most important job of all and, rather than putting her off having children, had instilled in her a longing do it right. There was no doubt that when she had discovered she was pregnant with Rafael’s baby it had flooded her with euphoric exhilaration. This was her chance to be the sort of mother she had always wanted, rather than the one she had had.