LITMIR.BIZ

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an awkward sorry before falling in step beside him.

      At the door of the hospital room Raoul stopped and drew her to one side, aware as he did so of the scent of her hair. ‘Just to warn you,’ he began abruptly.

      Her eyes lifted and his hands fell from her shoulders. He dug his hands into the pockets of his tailored trousers. ‘He looks...’

      With a soft curse he pulled his mobile from his pocket and turned away, but not before Lara had seen the blank screen or the expression on his face.

      Overwhelmed by a rush of compassion that threatened to crush her chest, she could see the muscles along his strong jaw clenching as he outlined the situation. ‘He’s had a stroke, a complication of the drug regime. He looks...’

      When his harsh voice broke, Lara’s heart ached with sympathy. She touched his hand and he looked at her fingers on his wrist. For a moment she thought he’d shake her off but instead he turned his wrist and threaded his long fingers in hers, oblivious to the crushing pressure he was exerting. He took a deep breath and finished huskily, ‘Broken, he looks broken.’

      ‘I understand.’

      Raoul doubted it. The doctor’s warning had not prepared him for the reality of his grandfather’s condition. ‘Just don’t let him—’ He directed a warning look at her.

      What did he think she was going to do, Lara wondered, look horrified or run from the room? Is that the person he thinks I am?

      The answer was depressing. That was exactly the person he thought she was—a selfish, shallow thrill-seeker, an individual incapable of considering another person’s feelings, let alone possessing any herself that might get bruised.

      The knowledge hurt more than she was prepared to admit, even to herself.

      ‘He’s a proud man and for him this...’ Bad enough that the cancer was eating him alive, fate had not even allowed him a dignified, clean exit.

      Lara’s anger subsided as quickly as it had emerged, replaced by guilt and a painful throb of empathy as she watched Raoul close his eyes, the muscles in his brown throat working as he fought to contain his own emotions.

      ‘Of course,’ she said quietly as she withdrew her hand from his.

      Raoul preceded her into the room, his body initially blocking her view of the figure in the bed.

      ‘Lara’s here, late as usual.’

      Despite Raoul’s warning, Lara was shocked by the appearance of Sergio. Since she had known him, she had been conscious of the slow physical decline that even the best tailoring could not conceal, but the man in the bed attached to tubes and monitors, one side of his face twisted and frozen, was a grotesque caricature of the man who had once walked into a room and caused heads to turn.

      Then she saw the eyes in the wrecked face. They were alert, so, squaring her shoulders, she donned a smile.

      * * *

      Raoul watched as Lara went forward, bending close to kiss the stiff cheek, something he had been unable to make himself do, before taking a chair and pulling it up beside the bed.

      His grandfather spoke. The words perhaps had meaning in his head but they emerged slurred and garbled. Lara responded as though she understood what he was saying.

      Raoul had no control over the emotion that broke free in his chest, and no cheque in the world, he decided, was big enough to repay the debt he owed her.

      * * *

      Half an hour later they walked side by side, not touching, to the car park.

      ‘Are you all right to drive home alone?’

      She turned her head but the glistening sheen of tears in her eyes made his face a blur. ‘I could stay if you’d like?’

      He stifled his instinctive response but the impulse disturbed him. There were times when he was aware that she gave more than he should expect and got very little in return. She played her part so well that often the ‘supportive wife’ act seemed real, not that he knew a lot about supportive wives, but he did know a lot about women who could act a part.

      And that, after all, was what he had wanted. He had to remind himself that this was a job for Lara, not a life choice. And anyway, who in their right mind would choose to share their life with him?

      Suddenly disgusted with his inability to face the truth and too tired to maintain the illusion, he accepted it. No relief came as he acknowledged that life with Lucy had broken him, he couldn’t give or receive love, and that was a disability as much as a lost limb.

      The knowledge lay like a stone where his heart once was as he shook his head.

      ‘That isn’t necessary. What did you say that made him look so happy?’

      She lifted her eyes to his face, took a deep breath, and admitted with a rush, ‘I told him I was pregnant.’

      She watched as Raoul’s dark winged brows lifted and a shocked grunt vibrated in his chest. A series of emotions flickered across his normally guarded features, finally settling into an expression of warm approval that lit a responsive glow inside her.

      Lara had never needed anyone’s approval in her life; even now with the glow inside her it was frightening to realise, to admit, how much she craved Raoul’s good opinion.

      ‘That was kind.’

      She paused. This was the moment, but was it the right moment? Did the right moment even exist...? Then right or wrong it was gone, and the correction stayed in her head.

      ‘Are you sure you’re all right to drive back alone?’ he asked again, noticing for the first time the pallor of her creamy skin and the faint shadows beneath her emerald eyes.

      Had she lost weight recently? he wondered, his suspicions aroused as he took in the prominence of her delicate collarbones.

      ‘You’re not on some stupid diet, are you?’

      Lara responded to his glowering disapproval with an odd little laugh and moved her head in a negative motion.

      ‘I’m fine.’ Pregnancy was not a disease, though she suspected the person who had said that had never suffered from morning sickness.

      He made no comment but didn’t look entirely convinced as he pulled his eyes from the visible blue-veined pulse that beat at the base of her throat and directed a hard look at her face.

      ‘I thought I’d stay a while, sit with him.’ His dark eyes shifted to the low sprawling terracotta-tiled building behind them that looked more like a hotel resort than a private hospital. The one thing his grandfather had not wanted was to spend his last days in a hospital bed. But life was filled with things that a man wanted but could not have, he thought bleakly.

      ‘Let me stay, Raoul...?’

      He shrugged. ‘What would be the point?’

      She hid her hurt at the rejection under a smile and withdrew the hand she had extended towards him. ‘No point at all.’

      * * *

      The phone call she had been half expecting came just after midnight. Lara was sitting on the balcony of their bedroom breathing in the fragrance of the pines on the warm night breeze. It was the call she had been expecting, but not the caller.

      ‘Hello, Lara, I hope I didn’t disturb you.’

      An image of the elegant, petite Italian brunette flashed into her head.

      ‘Not at all, Naomi,’ she said, wincing at the stiff formality of her response and wondering why she could never relax around the Italian woman.

      ‘Raoul asked me to ring you and let you know that Sergio passed away about an hour ago.’

      Lara’s sadness was alleviated by the knowledge that the proud old man would not have to suffer any longer. ‘Thank you for letting me know. Raoul, is he

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