Flora's Defiance

‘Well, obviously we don’t go on trying to live together as we started out last night. The words “frying pan” and “fire” come to mind. We just forget that angle,’ Flora proposed in a clipped undertone, stress and concern at how he might react to her proposition tightening her facial muscles. ‘You seem to own very large houses, so living separately below the same roof shouldn’t be a problem in the short term.’

It might well have been her imagination but the healthy glow of vitality that Angelo’s vibrant skin tone usually lent him suddenly seemed strangely dull and absent. ‘Is that truthfully what you want? ‘

Flora released her breath in a slow sigh. ‘Right now I don’t want any complications or stress. I want to concentrate on Mariska and these babies I’m carrying.’

Angelo jerked a shoulder in an eloquent shrug. ‘I can’t fault you for that, but I had hoped that we could discuss …’

Flora’s green eyes were suddenly as flat and hard as green jade and her chin came up. ‘I don’t want to discuss anything with you. I know what you think of me and that made it clear to me that there was no future for us as a couple,’ she framed doggedly. ‘I may need your support right now because I’m carrying triplets but I would prefer you to treat me only as a friend or … er … housemate from now on.’

Angelo was frowning. ‘If that is honestly what you want?’

Her teeth ground together because he was making it very obvious that he had little experience of a woman saying no to him and that he could not quite credit that she might know what she was doing.

‘It has to be what you want as well!’ Flora snapped back, her temper leaping because even though he had not opposed her his whole attitude seemed to imply that she was being somehow unreasonable. ‘You admitted that my pregnancy had turned your life upside down.’

His very blue eyes burned like sapphire jewels above his hard cheekbones. ‘But it doesn’t necessarily follow that that is a bad thing.’

Flora dragged her attention from his all too charismatic appeal and folded into a bristling ball, with Mariska cradled sleepily on what lap she still had to offer. ‘Oh, come on, you had it all before that day your luck ran out on the houseboat,’ she muttered with a snide edge that she could not suppress. ‘The beautiful women, the choices, the lack of ties or commitment. That kind of relationship was never ever going to suit me and it’s better to recognise our differences now before the babies are born.’

A muscle pulling tight at the corner of his unsmiling mouth and his bright eyes veiled, Angelo inclined his arrogant dark head in grudging acceptance. ‘It’s very important that you can feel happy and secure here. I will respect your wishes. But, for the record, I think you’re making a major mistake for both of us.’

Mistake or not, Flora had all the painful satisfaction of knowing at that instant that she had hoped he would fight with her and for her, wanting and demanding more than she thought it sensible to give. Of course his ready agreement merely pointed out what intelligence had already tried to tell her. He cared about what might happen to her but his feelings ran little deeper than ensuring she stayed strong and healthy for the sake of the babies she carried. His babies and, for a male as fond as he was of children, that was always likely to be a very big deal.

Hot prickling tears stung Flora’s eyes and she lowered her lashes so that he would not see and she hugged Mariska in consolation. She might have fallen hard for Angelo van Zaal, but she had no intention of giving him cause ever to suspect that mortifying truth. From now on, she would be brisk, businesslike and as cool as a cucumber in his radius.

CHAPTER NINE

‘YOU look marvellous,’ Bregitta Etten chorused with her usual girlish enthusiasm. ‘The expression “blooming” comes to mind.’

Flora resisted an uncomfortable urge to smooth her lilac dress down over her sizeable bump; she was almost seven months pregnant and pretty large in the tummy stakes and standing for long periods was a strain for her. Unhappily, Bregitta always made Flora feel ill at ease. ‘Do you mind if I sit down?’

‘Of course not. I can see you need to. It must be exhausting carrying all that extra weight around,’ the beautiful blonde carolled, planting her reed-slender body down beside Flora on a hard gilded sofa. Both were attending an event that was being staged in a grand public building offering more splendour than comfort. ‘It is so unfortunate that Henk and I were not blessed with children.’

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‘That is sad.’ While striving to remain pleasant in the face of Bregitta’s fake friendliness, Flora endeavoured not to look around to see where Angelo was. The benefit was being held in aid of one of the charities that Angelo headed up, an organisation that raised funds for braindamaged children. As Angelo knew virtually all the guests present and had given a rousing speech he was very much in demand. He had asked her to attend as his partner and since he rarely asked her to accompany him anywhere she was determined not to be clingy or needy.

‘I’m an old-fashioned girl,’ Bregitta murmured sweetly, eyes as cast down as a dewy teenager’s in her show of modesty. ‘I would have to be married before I could take the risk of having three children at once.’

‘Would you?’ Flora simply laughed, too used to the blonde’s needling little digs to even react. She had long since worked out that Bregitta cherished very personal designs on Angelo and would have been deeply resentful of any woman sharing his home. The news a couple of months earlier that Flora was also carrying triplets had shocked Bregitta rigid and left her as aggrieved as though Angelo had been stolen from her.

That rather amusing recollection made Flora’s soft full mouth quirk, for she was convinced that Angelo did not share Bregitta’s intimate aspirations with regard to their friendship. Furthermore, while Angelo might not have told his friends that he was to become a father before Flora’s arrival, he had positively bragged about the fact since then. Although he had failed to be equally frank about the fact that they were only living together now for the sake of convenience, she cherished no doubts about his enthusiasm for his impending fatherhood. And as a daily witness of his relationship with her niece, Flora had come to accept that Angelo was one of those special men who truly loved children and enjoyed their company.

During the past four months, Flora had regained her health but as her pregnancy progressed she had become more physically restricted in terms of what she could do. She got tired much more easily and her back and hips ached if she walked too far. Getting down on the floor to play with Mariska was impossible now, as was sleeping the night through with three very active babies moving about inside her. Yet she was always aware that the closer her triplets got to term before she brought them into the world, the safer they would be.

Natalie had put her in touch with a consultant obstetrician in Amsterdam, who maintained a careful weekly check on her condition. Jemima also rang her friend regularly to be reassured that she was all right. But Angelo, more than anyone, had provided Flora with unparalleled support. Ironically, that acknowledgement made Flora feel almost unbearably sad, for the more she learned about Angelo van Zaal, the more she knew why she loved him. She might have initially been attracted to him because he was downright gorgeous and very sexy, but he was also courteous, considerate and always ready to listen if she was worried about anything. Indeed she had no grounds for complaint whatsoever because Angelo had given her exactly what she had asked him for: her privacy.

Usually they only mixed when Mariska was present and, with the single exception of tonight’s charity benefit, the several outings they had shared had included the little girl. In every way that mattered, Flora and Angelo currently led separate lives. Angelo spent most of the day at his office and about one week in four travelling abroad. When he was at home they occupied separate rooms and often ate at different times as well. As the weeks wore on Flora began to wonder if she had made a drastic misstep in her overwhelming eagerness to save face. Angelo was leaving her alone just as she had requested and she had to assume that there were now other women in his life. She could hardly expect a male with a high-voltage libido to abstain from sex and live like a monk. He was, however, being admirably discreet about any other interests. Even so, his discretion was not a comfort for her because jealousy was eating Flora alive if he so much as looked at another woman.

And although Angelo appeared content, Flora was very much aware that she was feeling lonely, unhappy and insecure. Her pride had certainly come before her fall, she acknowledged ruefully. She recognised that her refusal to challenge his belief that she was a gold-digger head-on had put a wall of misunderstanding between them, which he was understandably reluctant to tackle in the current climate. Naturally he did not want to distress her or make her more hostile to him. He could scarcely be expected to understand that as she had got the chance to know him without the unsettling influence of sexual attraction always taking front-row billing he had finally earned her trust. With Angelo, she had come to accept, what you saw was what you got. There was nothing false, nothing hidden, no polite pretences or lies. He was as far removed from a lying, cheating philanderer of her late father’s ilk as any man could be and had a much stronger character than Peter had ever had.

‘You are so brave, Flora. How can you be so calm?’ Bregitta asked in measured disbelief, lifting her pencilled brows in emphasis of the point. ‘In a few months you’ll have four children under two years old and Mariska is already running around and creating havoc as toddlers do. I’m afraid I cannot picture Angelo in so domestic a role.’

‘He’s crazy about kids,’ Flora fielded confidently.

‘Any man in my life would have to want me more than any children I might have,’ Bregitta informed her without hesitation, ‘but with Angelo that could be a problem for you.’

Stung by that all too perceptive comment, Flora made no response for on that score she had no comment to make. Angelo was only with her, after all, because she was pregnant, and once her babies were born they would have to come to some other convenient arrangement, which was highly unlikely to be one in which they continued to live below the same roof. Soon, she recognised painfully, even living within easy reach of Angelo on a daily basis would just be a fond memory. Then wasn’t it time for her to speak up in her own defence? Was he content with the way things were? And if he wasn’t content, why hadn’t he said anything?