Raul's Revenge

She stifled a moan from the depths of her being. Raul, with an ease that betrayed her naivety, had got her back into his bed and under his spell with hardly a whimper from her. Slowly she opened her eyes, her face set and pale. Deliberately she turned, closed the door and locked it. Never again, she vowed silently. Never again...

She was leaving with James; even if she had to drug the security guards and walk to the nearest town she didn't care. Not any more. She knew that she had only herself to blame in a way. She had forgotten Dulcie— or perhaps her mind had simply blocked out the other woman, in much the same way that she had refused to think about the abduction of James once she'd had him back. Perhaps it was the mind's way of protecting one from a pain too fierce to bear, she thought. But, God help her, she was hurting now!

Gritting her teeth, she found a suitcase in the back of the wardrobe and haphazardly threw a few clothes in it. Her head spun; she needed her passport. It was probably in Raul's study. A bitter smile distorted her full lips at the memory of another one of his lies.

Manhandling the open suitcase onto the wide bed, she sat down beside it to catch her breath. All she needed now was to pack James enough clothes to last for a few days and they were ready. But was she?

Where was she going? she asked herself desperately. Back to Cornwall? Even if they made it, Raul would not be far behind them, and did she really want to go back to Cornwall? She stared with sightless eyes at the wall opposite, a pale, tragic facsimile of the girl she had once been.

Slowly, as she relived the past in her mind, she re­cognised a painful truth. She was not the strong, de­cisive person she had thought herself to be. Instead she had spent most of her life simply reacting to the cir­cumstances around her.

As a teenager she'd assumed that she would study medicine in memory of her father, not because she'd had any great desire to be a doctor. When she'd failed to get the marks required, and after the death of her mother, she had not picked a career in pharmacy. It had picked her, simply because the company she'd worked for Saturdays as a schoolgirl had offered to sponsor her through pharmaceutical college.

Her affair with Raul had followed the same pattern. He'd made love to her and asked her to move in with him. Deep down she had wanted marriage, but she'd allowed herself to settle for less. She had been doing it all her life. Easygoing Penny. She never made a fuss.

If she was honest the idea for Sense and Sensibility had been more Amy's than hers. The way they had found the shop—driving through Cornwall to a wedding and passing through Royal Harton. If they had checked thoroughly before buying the place they would easily have discovered that the plans had been passed for a new health centre with a pharmacy some twenty miles away. But they hadn't.

Once, just once, she had made a firm stand and asked Raul to marry her, and look where that got her. Total rejection...

She'd even got pregnant by accident—not that she re­gretted it for a second. Penny drew a shaky breath. And her biggest mistake of all—she had carelessly handed over her child to the first nurse who'd asked, and in consequence Raul had stormed back into her life.

She cringed with shame and humiliation. God, but she was some kind of prize idiot! Did she have 'Pushover' carved on her brow? she wondered bitterly.

Then the final fiasco—she'd let both James and herself be abducted by Raul. She'd fallen into his arms, and his bed, with hardly a murmur, then meekly agreed to marry him because she loved him, even though she knew he did not love her. Once again the line of least resistance...

Penny shivered, a draught of evening air wafting through the open window. She glanced at the swaying curtains and noted that it was dark outside. She had no notion of how long she had sat mulling over the past, but she guessed it was late.

Jumping to her feet, she swore under her breath. But not too late! She straightened her shoulders, a new stiffness in her spine, her decision made.

She switched on the bedside light and crossed to the dressing table. She glanced at her reflection—the wide, haunted eyes and the soft, tremulous mouth—and de­spised what she saw.

She clenched her teeth, her lips firming in a tight, narrow line. She was taking charge of her own life. She was finished with going with the flow. She was going to start making her own waves, and the first one would wash right over Raul Da Silva an

d get him out of her life for good. She wasn't running away. She was going downstairs to call him and tell him that the wedding was off...

A knock at the door brought her head round. 'Yes,' she said, firmly expecting it to be Ava. She saw the handle turn.

'Open the door, Penny.'

She flinched, surprised at the sound of Raul's voice, but the bitter knowledge of Raul's callous manipulation of her—and, she recognised, the unfortunate Dulcie— was eating into her soul. A steely determination to stand up for herself had her marching across the room and unlocking the door.

Raul brushed past her. His dark eyes flicked around the room and noted the suitcase. Slowly he turned to where Penny stood with her back to the door. 'I thought we decided no honeymoon just yet. Too much upset for James.' His dark eyes were hooded, masking his ex­pression. 'Or have I got it wrong?' he drawled cynically.

It took a great effort to meet and hold his gaze, but she did. 'You've got it wrong,' she said steadily.

His eyes narrowed, and she sensed the fury lying be­neath the surface of his control. 'Are you going to make me drag it out of you? Why the suitcase?' he demanded hardly.

Penny swallowed nervously, not feeling quite so brave. 'Because I'm leaving you.'

'I knew it.' His dark eyes flashed murderously. ‘I bloody knew it,' he swore, and lunged forward, grasping her upper arms in a vice-like grip. 'You are not leaving.

You are not going anywhere,' he snarled, hurting her, his cool control cracked wide open. 'I will not allow it.'

He dragged her towards him and she got a whiff of strong alcohol on his breath. She was so surprised that she forgot to be afraid and really looked at him. This was a Raul she had never seen before; his hair was dishevelled and he needed a shave.

'You've been drinking.' Raul never drank—well, only in moderation. Then she noticed that he was wearing the same clothes as he had been in when he'd left hours ago. She knew the hotel he was staying at had a strict dress code and stupidly asked, 'Have you had dinner?'

'You're walking out on me and you ask have I had dinner? Have I been drinking? Are you mad?' Raul ex­claimed harshly. 'Yes, I've been damned well drinking; I've been pacing the hotel room, telling myself I was doing the noble thing, that I could trust you. Until I could stand it no longer and rang you.'