That was not a call from brooding Raffa, or sensual Raffa; that was a call from her boss. Well, at least she could get one thing right. She had a fantastic team. The stable block ran like a well-oiled machine. Noon tomorrow, they’d all be on parade.
Having delivered Raffa’s message to the other grooms, she set about cleaning out the stables. The rhythmical application of a scrubbing brush was great for ordering her thoughts. She scrubbed harder than usual today. Having parted on such bad terms with Raffa, she’d do anything she could to restore some ease between them. His phone call hadn’t been exactly reassuring on that point, but even hearing his voice was better than nothing. She was glad she’d handwritten a note to thank him for the party. Her mother would countenance nothing less. Some things from the past should be cherished, Rose had learned, while others were best discarded. It was just sorting out which was which that was the problem...a problem she and Raffa shared. It would be nice to sort that problem out together, but that was clearly a dream too far.
If she became his mistress, Rose’s inner niggler insisted, she could still have a career, and advise on Sofia’s projects. She’d be in a far better place to help her father with Raffa’s private transport at her beck and call.
Sell her soul for a free ride on a private jet? No, thank you! She wanted more than jewels and a jet. She wanted Raffa’s heart. If he still had one to give.
Dios!What was Rose Kelly doing to him? No woman had ever got under his skin like this before. He was piloting the helicopter from thePegasusto his ranch, not even waiting long enough that morning to pack a bag, and all because of Rose. He’d called the meeting to arrange a rota to exchange staff between Ireland and Spain. Rose was crucial to both set-ups. He wanted her to be flexible and not feel trapped. Business was not the only reason he was returning to the ranch. Rose was the main reason. Rose, and the unfinished business between them.
As he hovered over his vast estate, snow-capped mountains glinted in the distance. A rip of adrenalin surged through his veins. The thrill never diminished. This was his kingdom, his passion, his life’s work.
So you are capable of feeling emotion. You just don’t want the inconvenience of anyone laying their emotional needs on you. Land just is. It doesn’t answer back. Right?
He hummed thoughtfully. Landing smoothly, he released his harness. Instinct told him where she’d be.
He found Rose exactly where he’d expected to find her, in the stable talking quietly to one of his ponies. Standing in a beam of light, she looked otherworldly, sensual, lush, ravishingly beautiful. ‘D’you mind if I join you?’ he asked.
She started at the sound of his voice, but just as quickly recovered. Her eyes analysed his manner in an instant, and a slow smile lit up her face. ‘Hello,’ she whispered. ‘Welcome back. Come on in. Be my guest.’
‘Too kind,’ he murmured wryly. ‘How are things, Rose?’
Better now, her kind eyes told him, but there was a shadow behind Rose’s eyes that spoke of something else. They’d parted badly. His fault. Wanting to protect Rose from himself was not going so well. As she began to detail everything he needed to know about the ponies, he let her continue for the sheer pleasure of watching her mouth form the words, when what he really wanted was for Rose to break off and fling her arms around him, tell him that she’d missed him. He wanted those capable, work-worn hands on him now.
This was agony, way beyond frustrating, Rose thought as she chattered away. All she wanted was to tell Raffa how much she’d missed him and loved him.
And suspected she might be pregnant with his baby?
No. Not that. Not now. Not yet. Let them have this moment first.
Rose was as regular as clockwork, never late...never two weeks late, as she’d realised last night. She’d rushed out first thing this morning and bought a pregnancy test to confirm or discount her suspicions, and would use it as soon as—
The pony standing between them in the stall stamped its hooves as if impatient for them to get on with it. Forced to blank her mind to what might or might not be, she swooped down to collect up her grooming kit. Standing up brought her face to face—or, more accurately, face to chest—with Raffa.
He stared down. She stared up. He reached out first, but his fingertips only had to brush her skin for her to launch herself into his arms. Their kiss was fierce and reassuring. She wanted it to last forever, but her fellow grooms, reliable as always, chose that same moment to arrive.
‘Wipe away those tears,’ Raffa whispered against her mouth. ‘Or they’ll think I’ve sacked you.’
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she whispered back.
‘Try me,’ he challenged with a bone-melting smile.
They weren’t healed, but this was a giant step in the right direction. To hear humour from Raffa made happiness surge through every part of her. They were back. He was back.Itwas back—the humour that connected them.
He’d need that sense of humour if she was pregnant.
He turned serious. ‘Have you eaten yet?’ he asked with concern.
‘I will when I’ve finished my work—and then there’s the meeting, don’t forget.’
‘You never finish work,’ Raffa remarked dryly, ‘and there’s just enough time before the meeting—’
‘To eat?’ she queried. No. She thrilled, reading Raffa’s expression.
‘Leave that now,’ he insisted.
Rose doubted anyone noticed them leaving. They crossed the yard hand in hand, fingers entwined as they walked purposefully in the direction of the cookhouse, and then on past the door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
