Raul's Revenge

'No more buts, Penny. You're beginning to sound like a parrot.' And, easily reaching past her, he pulled open a drawer.

'B—' She almost said it again, but the mocking smile he shot her as he quite casually dropped the towel from his waist and pulled on a pair of boxer shorts stopped her. 'Where is James?' she asked, avoiding looking at Raul. 'I need to see him.'

'Your old bedroom, but don't be long; dinner is in half an hour.'

Penny dashed to the cot and stared down at her sleeping son. He looked so peaceful, his little hand curled around a floppy-eared teddy bear. She bent down and pressed a swift kiss on the top of his dark curls. He murmured slightly but did not wake up. She stared at him, a host of turbulent thoughts and emotions swimming in her head.

James was such a happy, contented little chap; a small, sad smile curved her generous mouth. The little boy had no knowledge of the trauma surrounding him, and she knew that she had to keep it that way. However much she might resent and despise Raul, rage at fate that had played such a cruel trick on her, as a mother all her in­stincts told her that, whatever the cost to herself, James must be shielded from the quarrel between his parents.

Lifting her head, she looked aroun

d her old room; her eyes widened in amazement as she took in the sur­roundings. What had once been an elegant guest room was now a nursery. The huge, old-fashioned cot claimed pride of place in the centre of the room. A large rocking-horse stood under one window, and under the other stacks of toys. The wall had been painted cream and stencilled with dozens of Walt Disney characters. Sud­denly the enormity of what had happened hit her...

For hours, days, weeks, even, she had been living in a kind of dream or nightmare. From the moment she'd lost her son for a day until now she had not been thinking clearly.

This room... a nursery... The boat trip... Raul had planned every move down to the finest detail. He must have started from the first moment he'd realised that James was his son. Whereas Penny had been so eu­phoric at getting James back that she had taken Raul at face value, had quite blindly believed him when he'd said that he would not fight for her child, had believed he had no interest in her whatsoever.

What a joke! While Penny had been congratulating herself on behaving as a mature adult, doing the right thing by her son, Raul had been plotting his every move.

Just how well he had succeeded was brought home to Penny ten minutes later when she reached the bottom of the grand staircase to be swept into the motherly arms of Ava.

In rapid Spanish Ava, with tears in her eyes, said, 'You poor, dear girl. When the master told me a wicked, wicked woman had stolen your child I could not believe it. He showed me the newspaper and I wept. But thank God the master found you and you got the baby back.'

'Ava—' Penny tried to break in but didn't get the chance.

'You are not to worry ever again. Carlos and I will guard the baby with our life and the master has hired security men for the road. You will both be perfectly safe here.'

Touched by the older woman's concern, but with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Penny re­sponded in Spanish. 'It's good to see you again.' And, kissing Ava's weathered cheek, she meant it. But she realised with a kind of fatalistic acceptance that Raul had covered all the bases. There was no chance of Penny persuading the older woman to help her get away.

She lifted her head and Raul was standing leaning against the dining-room door, waiting for her. He was immaculately dressed in a white silk shirt and dark lounge suit, his hair brushed firmly back from his broad brow, his face cool and aloof.

'If you two ladies have quite finished your tearful reunion, I am a very hungry man.'

His dark eyes clashed with Penny's, and for a fraction of a second the coolness faded, replaced by a naked hunger of another kind. She felt her stomach curl in answering need. Then it was gone, his formidable control once more in place, and, following Raul into the dining room, she put her own reaction down to lack of food.

'Would you like a drink?' Raul asked, stopping at the long oak sideboard where a decanter and array of bottles were on display with a dozen crystal glasses.

Ignoring his question, Penny said tightly, 'Clever. Very clever, Raul. But really, a guard on the road... isn't that overdoing it a bit?'

He glanced over his shoulder to where she stood by the dining-room table, bristling with anger and re­sentment. 'Nothing is too good for my son; I have no intention of allowing anyone, including you, to take him away from me. Understood?'

She recognised the cold menace in his tone and knew that now was not the time to argue with him. But she did raise her head in a valiant attempt at dignity. 'In that case give me a sherry. I need one. I do not appreciate being threatened by a... a... pirate...' she blustered.

‘A pirate?' Raul spun to face her, one dark brow arched sardonically. 'Really, Penny!' He almost smiled. 'A Freudian slip? A subtle invite to rape and pillage, perhaps? You are getting desperate.' And, chuckling at her gasp of outrage, he turned his attention to the drinks tray and poured sherry from the decanter, filling two glasses.

Desperate was not the half of it, Penny thought, watching him warily as he approached and held a glass out to her.

'Drink this; it might cool that vivid imagination of yours and steady your nerves.'

'I don't have unsteady nerves,' she shot back, but took the glass and sipped the fortified wine. It gave her the courage to demand, 'I want to ring Amy; she will be worried.'

Raul drained the liquid from the glass in his hand and, setting it on the table, stared down at her in a cold, as­sessing way for a long moment, the tension in the air growing by the second.

'All right.'

Shock kept her motionless, her brow furrowed in a puzzled frown. Raul had agreed. She had not expected it, and as she watched he walked across the room to where the phone rested on an occasional table and quickly dialled a number, and spoke. 'Raul here.'

'Wait a minute.' Galvanised into action, she dashed after him. 'Hey, wait a minute, I said.' She grabbed his sleeve; he glanced down at her hand, a wicked glint in his dark eyes.