Claiming His Wife

Had she conceived Roman's child? Or had her per­iods gone back to being all over the place because she'd forgotten to take the pill on that first fateful, never-to-be-forgotten night?

But she wouldn't think about that right now, not when there was so much other stuff going on inside her head. She had taken the day to get her mind straightened out, not add to the muddle. She would think about the consequences of having conceived Roman's child when and if she knew for sure she had.

Nevertheless, she felt distinctly shaky inside as she headed for one of the pavement cafes and sank down at a table beneath the shade of a huge striped um­brella. She ordered freshly squeezed orange juice with lots of ice and tried to make her mind a blank, watching the life of the ancient Spanish town pass by.

But it didn't work. Her mind was filled with one thought alone: Roman's child—how she would love it!

It was almost dusk when she returned to the great stone house that dominated the narrow street. Her hair had come adrift from the neat coil and tumbled riotously around her shoulders and the wind from the sea had whipped away her straw hat as she'd walked on the long sandy beach. She felt hot and sticky and her feet hurt.

But it had been worth it. Her mind had gradually cleared and she felt a million times more hopeful than when she had set out. Hopeful enough to greet Teresa with a confident smile as she entered the huge, marble paved hall and found the housekeeper waiting.

'Good evening, Teresa. I hope you and your hus­band have settled back in.' A skeleton staff now, where once there had been an army. Had Roman re­fused to make use of this lovely place since their disastrous first honeymoon?

'Senora.' If anything, the housekeeper's impres­sive girth had much increased since Cassie had last seen her, and her features were, as ever, stony with disapproval. 'You wish for supper?'

Cassie permitted herself a tiny wry smile at the martyred tone. Three years ago she would have shaken her head and scuttled away, not wanting to be a nuisance. Now she said pleasantly, 'Please. S

omething light in the small sola in one hour. I need to shower and change.'

And do that test. Find out for sure if what she hoped with all her heart was true or just wishful thinking.

'Si, senora. In one hour.' Was there a look of grudging approval in the older woman's small black eyes? Cassie couldn't be sure until the housekeeper said, a bit stiffly but nevertheless said, 'Welcome home. It has been too long,' and waddled away.

Sucking in a breath of pleased surprise Cassie flew up the great, curving staircase. Everything was going to be all right—it had to be! Teresa's acceptance of her had to be an omen. Didn't it?

But that was a minor thing. What really counted was the way she'd been able to go over the talk she and Roman had had this morning, rationally and calmly, picking up clues.

He had mentioned that he'd been attracted to her, that he hadn't wanted her to leave him, but had let her go for her own sake, allowing her time to become an adult woman who could stand on her own feet. And there had been no mistaking his anger when she'd confessed that his aunts had robbed her of what little self-confidence she'd had.

On his return they'd talk again. He had promised her that. Talk of the future. Their future together? The past had been dealt with, a necessary exercise but leaving him with that misconception over who else she'd been sleeping with.

She would try again to put that right. On that she was utterly determined.

Once that was out of the way—she permitted her­self a dreamy, pleasurable sigh—there'd be no more pussy-footing around the subject. She'd come right out with it and ask him if he was willing to give their marriage a second chance.

She wanted to stay married to him. She needed him; it felt as if her whole life depended on it.

An hour later she floated down the stairs. She felt as if her feet were treading on air. She was carrying Roman's child within her body. She had never felt more blessed.

Today. If he kept to his word, Roman would be back today. Some time today.

Cassie paced the bedroom floor restlessly, too wound up with a mixture of excitement and appre­hension to even try to relax. And it was only midday. It could be hours before he returned.

Oh, how she longed to see him again, to kiss him and touch him. To hold him close, will him to love her, just a little. A little would do for starters.

Hours of suspense, hours of waiting to discover whether she could finally make him believe that her supposed promiscuity was only in his mind, whether he'd be willing to take their marriage forward into the future.

And it was so hot. Airless. They were in for a storm, Manuel had said as she'd been helping him in the garden this morning—well, pottering, really, any­thing to pass the time until Roman's return. But she'd felt dizzy with the heat, the lack of sleep and lack of food. Her appetite had disappeared under the welter of growing emotions.

She'd already taken two cool showers. She was only wearing a half-cup white lace bra and the brief­est of matching panties and she was still burning up with the oppressive heat.

Soon she'd have to dress. He might make it back by lunchtime. She wanted to be ready and waiting, looking her best. But what to wear?

She padded barefoot to the huge hanging cup­boards and finally reached out a gossamer-fine floaty number patterned in soft swirls of cool blues and green. Her hands were shaking.

'Cass.'

The sound of his voice in the hot, sultry silence of the room startled her witless. She turned to face him, the light-as-air dress drifting from her fingers, pooling at her feet. She couldn't speak, not if her life had depended on it. Her heart was pounding roughly against her breastbone and her throat muscles had gone into spasm.