The sudden reedy quality in his father’s voice made Rafe realise that the old man was thinking about the end of his own life and it was a sobering thought. He reflected on Ambrose’s words during the champagne toast and the cutting of the cake afterwards. It had never particularly bothered him to think that he would not pass on his own genes, but suddenly a wave of emptiness and futility swept over him. Would he one day stand in a room like this, as his father was doing? Only the difference would be that he wouldn’t have adult children of his own. He would be standing there protected by the icy shell he had constructed—a lonely old man with nobody to leave his vast fortune to.
The walls seemed to be closing in on him and he found himself walking across the room to where Sophie stood, chatting to one of the godparents. Sliding his arm round her waist, he manoeuvred her away from the conversation, wanting the oblivion-giving warmth of her body to chase away some of these damned demons.
‘Come upstairs,’ he said, his lips close against her scented hair.
She drew back, eyebrows raised. ‘Won’t people miss you?’
‘Now.’
Sophie hesitated, thinking how autocratic he sounded—and wondering if he always got his own way. But why refuse to accompany him just to make a point? She’d had enough of meeting the occasional baleful stare from Sharla, even though the model had been nothing but steely politeness when they’d been introduced.
She didn’t say another word until they were back in their room and she pulled the pashmina from her neck, letting it flutter into a pale blue heap on a nearby chair. ‘So why the sudden masterful display of bringing me up here before the party’s properly ended?’ she questioned. ‘Was that all for Sharla’s benefit?’
‘For Sharla’s benefit?’ He frowned. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Sophie stared out of the window, at the black snake of the newly shovelled driveway she’d helped clear, before meeting Rafe’s shuttered gaze. ‘I don’t have any ex-lovers to base my hunch on but I’ve been observing people for as long as I can remember.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘And for someone you split up with such a long time ago, there seemed a lot of underlying stuff going on between you both. What did she say to you downstairs?’
‘That’s none of your business.’
‘I thought you might say that. What’s the matter, Rafe—are you still in love with her?’
He clenched his fists. ‘In love with Sharla?’ he demanded hotly. ‘Are you out of your mind?’
‘What, then?’ she persisted. ‘Because there’s something there.’
‘Something? Yeah, you could say that.’ He took a step towards her. ‘You want to know what she said? Do you? Would it make you feel better if I told you that she made it very clear she’d like to be back in my bed again?’
She flinched. ‘And that’s all?’
How many more questions was she going to ask? Rafe wanted to tell her to mind her own damned business or maybe silence her with a kiss. But Ambrose’s words and the memory of the baby who’d been wriggling in his arms had loosened the floodgates he’d kept in place for so long. Too long. He gave a bitter laugh as he removed his tie with a violent tug and slung it at a nearby chair. ‘You want the truth about my relationship with her?’
He saw the faint concern which clouded her eyes before she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly. ‘Yes, I think I do.’
She sank down on one of the armchairs by the blazing fire and looked up into his face. And although the idea of sharing confidences was alien to him, something told him he could trust Sophie. He sensed she could be properly discreet as her upbringing had taught her to be, but it was more than that. Something strong and sure was shining from her blue eyes to cut through his usual icy reserve. But as that reserve melted, he could feel the heaviness in his heart—so painful and tight in his chest that it was hurting him just to breathe. If he’d thought the years might have lessened the sorrow then he’d been wrong. So maybe it really was time he talked about it, instead of letting it gnaw away inside him, like some dark cancer.
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘My brother Nick was going out with Molly for years before they married, and I first met Sharla at a party when we were in our early twenties. I’d left university and was a couple of years into my telecommunications business and she’d already done several magazine covers. My career was taking off and so was hers. In many ways it was a very satisfactory relationship.’
‘Satisfactory?’ she echoed cautiously. ‘That’s an odd word to use.’
‘I can’t think of a better one. I was young and horny and she was hot. I thought we were both giving the other what they most needed.’
‘You mean sex?’ she questioned baldly.
‘I mean sex,’ he echoed as he stared at her. ‘Sorry if that offends your sensibilities, Sophie—but that’s the truth.’
He watched her teeth digging into her bottom lip, as if she might be having second thoughts about hearing this, and maybe this was his opportunity to stop and change the subject. But he was on a roll now and the words were streaming out of that dark place inside him, where he’d buried them all those years ago. ‘Right from the start I was honest with her. I said that if she was looking for permanence—for babies and wedding bells—then she should look elsewhere,’ he said. ‘We both had worlds to conquer and we were both so young. I remember she laughed when I told her the door was open any time she chose to walk away. But she didn’t.’
There was silence as he stared at her, but she didn’t break it—she just carried on looking at him with those bright blue eyes. And now the flood of dark memories were swamping him in a foul tide.
‘One day she came to me and asked whether I’d ever consider changing my mind. Whether I thought I could love her or think about marrying her. To be honest, I was confused. I thought we understood one another. I asked why she was saying all this stuff and I remember the look on her face. The way she said, A woman needs to know these things, Rafe. And because I thought she was being practical and because I knew the rock star was pursuing her, I told her no, and that if she wanted commitment, she was free to go and find it with someone else. And then...’
His voice faltered. With shock? Or surprise? That he, who had always tried to distance himself from the conflict of relationships, had become an unwilling victim of one and as a consequence was plagued by a guilt and bitter regret which wouldn’t seem to go away?
‘What, Rafe?’ she whispered, her soft voice carrying across the room towards him. ‘What happened?’
He swallowed and it felt as if a ball of barbed wire were trying to force its way down his throat. ‘She was carrying my baby,’ he said. ‘But she never told me that. She didn’t give me the chance to change my mind, or come to some mutual agreement which would have worked for us all. I didn’t know and I didn’t find out. At least, not until afterwards, when she told me what she’d done.’
‘Oh, no.’ Her face blanched as the true meaning of his words sank in. ‘Oh, Rafe.’
‘Yes.’ He looked at her quite calmly and then his voice broke. ‘She killed my baby.’
Sophie’s heart squeezed painfully as she heard the rawness in his voice and she wanted to jump up from the chair and wrap her arms tightly around him. To stroke his ravaged face with all the tenderness she possessed until some of his unbearable grief had subsided. But something held her back, some bone-deep instinct which told her to go easy around this damaged man. He had confided in her. Had told her the dark secret it was clear still haunted him. Wasn’t it enough to be understanding and kind and calm? Not go over the top with an emotional response which would help no one, least of all him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Yeah. Me, too.’ He