‘Oh.’
‘It’s green,’ he said helpfully.
‘It certainly is.’ And it served her right. She eyed the larger plastic bag he carried hopefully. Ruby eyed it too. ‘Is there chicken?’
‘Yes.’ He studied her again, as if examining her for flaws. ‘Gabrielle said you weren’t eating properly.’
‘Gabrielle exaggerates.’
‘Or sleeping properly.’
That one was true. ‘Let’s just say that trying to figure out how and when to tell you about this baby was weighing on my mind. I know there are still a lot of decisions to be made about what we’re going to do from here on in, but at least that bit’s done.’
‘So you’ve been sleeping a little easier?’
‘A little.’ No thanks to him. Rafael had slept in a separate room these past two nights, and kept physical contact with her to a minimum during the day. Neither action was particularly to her liking. She set the spinach aside and leaned back on her elbows as Rafael settled on the blanket beside her—not too close—and unpacked the shopping bag. Fried chicken, plain water, napkins, a kilo or ten of snow peas, and two green apples.
She shifted uncomfortably, turning her stomach towards him as she tilted over onto her side and smoothed the blanket beneath her, before settling back down.
‘What is it?’ he said in instant alarm.
‘A stick digging into my backside.’
‘Do you need a pillow?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ Simone yanked her T-shirt up to her midriff, grabbed Rafe’s hand, and placed it palm down on her stomach. Maybe if he felt for himself, he wouldn’t be so worried about this baby’s current position in the world. ‘You can’t feel any movement yet,’ she told him. ‘It’s too early for that, but this baby is well protected and healthy, Rafael, and so am I.’ She stared up into those vivid blue eyes and offered him a smile. ‘Can you feel it?’
‘Feel what?’ All Rafael could feel was skin, warm and silky. All he wanted was more. His body responded instantly, brutally focused on the one woman he had absolutely no notion of how to handle. What did she want from him?
And what dared he give?
‘My body,’ she said, as if he needed the reminder that his hand now caressed it. ‘It’s rounder. Fuller.’
He couldn’t feel a difference.
‘Lower,’ she murmured and covered his hand with hers and slid his hand lower and lower still so that their fingers disappeared beneath the waistband of her loose cotton trousers. Her fingers slid away, leaving only his in place, and her gaze met his dark and knowing. ‘Can you feel it now?’
He couldn’t. He was too busy trying to stem the insatiable need erupting inside him.
‘Lower,’ she whispered and arched her lower body up into his hand. She smiled. It was not the smile of a Madonna with child.
Rafael cursed and snatched his hand away fast, and put some distance between them along with whatever objects came to hand. The chicken. A thousand snow peas. A roly-poly puppy.
‘Oh, look,’ she said, staring across the park towards a small hotel. ‘A pension.’
‘No,’ he said gruffly.
‘You don’t want me?’
He did want her. Insanely. ‘Are pregnant women always this forward?’
‘Are fathers-to-be always this batty?’ she countered. ‘You got me pregnant the regular way, Rafael. I’m really not the fragile virgin Madonna type.’
‘I noticed.’
‘I’m so pleased,’ she said, eyeing him darkly. ‘And just for future reference, my sexual appetite hasn’t dimmed with early pregnancy. If anything, it seems to have increased.’ She sat up and eyed the basket of fried chicken. ‘I just don’t know what comes over me at times. Chicken wing?’
‘No.’ If his voice sounded a little hoarse there was good reason for it. Denying one’s deepest instincts took effort.
‘Oh, good,’ she said, and picked up the wing and bit into it with every appearance of profound enjoyment.
Simone let the angelic man with the fire of retribution in his eyes be after that, and concentrated on eating a balanced meal. The chicken wing. A little of the spinach. The snow peas were sweet and crunchy, and a much nicer green. She ate a handful of those and settled back to quiz Rafe about his status in this land as he finished his meal.
‘What exactly is it that Etienne expects of you?’ she asked him.
‘My presence at certain state functions. My presence, on occasion, at politically sensitive meetings.’
‘And how does Etienne introduce you?’
‘As his son.’
‘Does he ask for your input?’
‘Yes.’
‘And do you give it?’
‘Sometimes.’
Simone studied Rafael solemnly. Etienne asked a lot from his newfound son.
‘Does he give you time to relax?’
‘Overseeing the restoration of the vineyard is relaxing.’
‘You’ve taken that on too? As well as running your own vineyard from afar?’
‘I’ve put a manager in place at Angels Landing.’ The grimness of Rafael’s features told her just how much it had pained him to do so. More than any of the other projects surrounding him, Angels Landing was his dream, and he’d worked hard for it. It didn’t seem right that he’d had to give it up to make room for other people’s agendas.
‘Is this manager any good?’
‘Maintenance-wise, he’s very thorough. Vision-wise, he still needs guidance, but Harrison’s overseeing that at the moment. Harrison says he’s doing all right.’
‘Good.’ Simone nodded and made a mental note of Rafael’s reliance on Harrison’s judgement. She made another note to ask Harrison to visit them in Maracey as soon as practicable. Rafael needed people he could trust around him. The list of people who’d earned such trust would not be a long one. ‘Does Etienne reside at the vineyard estate?’
‘No. He’s based at a castle in the capital. There are rooms in the castle set aside for my use should I wish to stay there, apparently, but I prefer the vineyard. Whether I stay in Maracey at all is an issue currently up for debate amongst Etienne’s senior statesmen.’ Rafael’s expression hardened. ‘It seems not everyone is happy to see me.’
‘Is that so?’ Simone smiled tightly. She wondered if those statesmen knew how used to rejection this man was and how fiercely he’d learned to fight for the things he considered his. Heaven help them if he decided he wanted Maracey.
‘You’ll be staying with me at the vineyard,’ said Rafael next. ‘I’ve asked the staff to prepare a suite for you. Hopefully sleep will come even easier to you once you’re settled there.’
‘No.’
‘Pardon?’
Simone sighed heavily. She’d tried showing him what she wanted from him, but to no avail. It was time to spell it out for him using words he could understand. The ‘fragile virgin Madonna’ treatment had to stop. She was not fragile, and she was certainly no virgin. She quite liked being thought of as a Madonna, but that was probably just the pregnancy talking. ‘No. No separate suite, no separate bed. And no treating me like a stranger. I have a different proposal for you.’
‘If