Perhaps he was just being protective, Rose allowed as she waited for Raffa to pick up the phone. Remembering how defensive she’d been when it came to him buying the farm, the pub and the hall back home in Ireland, seeing everything Raffa did as an attempt to control her, she wanted this to be different. It was only natural for him to want the best for his child, and that included looking after the mother. Their baby was all Rose could think about, so she could hardly blame him for that.
‘Rose?’
Feeling calmer, she released her vice-like grip on the phone. ‘You sound distracted.’
‘I’m riding.’
Riding hard, Rose gathered. To get her out of his system? Or maybe to help him come to terms with the news of her pregnancy? ‘Can you stop—or rein in, at least? Don’t fall off on my account.’
A bark of laughter greeted that remark, followed by a few moments of noisy silence, during which she imagined him reining in and springing to the ground. She waited a beat or two, to give him the chance to get organised, before continuing. ‘I’ve been fielding a lot of phone calls from medical professionals and others.’
‘That’s down to me,’ he confirmed. ‘Making sure you have the best care.’
‘You know, I could have handled that myself.’
‘Let me get back, settle my horse, take a shower, then we’ll talk.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘We’ll meet in the yard. Say, half an hour?’ he suggested.
She frowned. ‘Won’t it be dark by then?’
‘Full moon tonight. Use plenty of bug spray.’
She wanted to laugh hysterically at his mundane remark, but mostly she fretted that he’d get back safely in the failing light.
There was no fretting when she saw Raffa in the yard...no anger or angst, either, just a wave of deep, overwhelming love. He looked amazing in nothing more than a pair of banged-up jeans and a top that sculpted his freshly showered body. There was a night-blue sweater slung over his shoulders, and his thick black hair was still damp and unruly, as if he hadn’t wasted a moment raking it into place before coming to meet her.
‘Warm enough?’ he asked.
Before she had a chance to answer, he swept the cashmere sweater from his shoulders and draped it around hers.
‘The people I asked to contact you come with cast-iron recommendations,’ he explained as they strolled in the moonlight in the direction of the distant pastures. ‘The recommendations come from my brother, and his wife, Jess. I wouldn’t have suggested these particular professionals otherwise.’
‘What’s wrong with my family doctor?’
‘He’s in Ireland.’
‘While the specialists you recommend are in London and Madrid?’ Rose guessed.
‘They’re not there now,’ Raffa told her with obvious satisfaction. ‘They’re on their way here as we speak.’
‘Don’t you think that’s a little high-handed?’
He looked puzzled. ‘They’re the best. They took care of my sister-in-law.’
‘And here was me thinking parents decide these things together,’ Rose said lightly, not wanting to sour the mood. ‘There are two of us involved in this,’ she reminded him.
‘I don’t know what more you want of me, Rose.’
‘I don’t want you to box off this pregnancy like one of your many projects,’ she explained. ‘I appreciate you taking the trouble to arrange things, but it would have been much better to discuss it with me first.’
‘I’ve done everything I could think of,’ he admitted with a frown. ‘I don’t understand why you’re upset.’
‘You’re micromanaging me within a few hours of learning I’m pregnant. How did you expect me to feel?’
‘That I care about you.’
