By Request Collection Part 3. Robyn Donald

      He turned to the window and looked at the glitter of city lights below. Normally he enjoyed the view of the capital he loved, the valley that had been home to his family for centuries. That sense of place, of belonging, always brought comfort.

      Not now. Now all he felt was the terrible aloneness.

       Life without Luisa.

      He couldn’t conceive it. His brain shut down every time he thought about it and a terrible hollow ache filled him. His very hands shook at the idea of her on a plane to Australia without him.

      He should do the honourable thing and let her go. Release her from this life she’d never desired.

      Yet he wanted to throw back his head and howl his despair at the idea of losing her. His pulse raced and his skin prickled with sweat at the thought of never seeing her again. Never holding her.

       Never telling her how he felt.

      Excruciating pain ripped at him, giant talons that tore at his soul.

      It was no good, try as he might to be self-sacrificing, this was more than he could bear. It was asking too much.

      He grabbed the parchment and rolled it quickly, heedless of the still drying wax seals. Turning on his heel he strode to the door.

      Luisa woke slowly, clinging to a surprisingly wonderful dream.

      After hours pacing the floor she’d retreated to bed. And still she’d tortured herself reliving the blank look on Raul’s face as he’d left her, already intent on other business. The fact that he hadn’t countermanded her trip to Sydney. That he didn’t care.

      Now she felt … safe, cocooned in a warm haven that protected her from everything. She didn’t want to move.

      But she had no choice. Even in her half aware state she registered the sick feeling, the rising nausea. She breathed deep, trying to force it back but it was no good.

      With a desperate lurch she struggled upright, only to find her movements impeded by the large man wrapped around her back. His legs spooned hers, his palm on her stomach.

      ‘Raul!’ It was a raw croak. What was he doing here? When had he—?

      Her stomach heaved and she thrust his confining arm away, swinging her legs off the bed.

      ‘Luisa!’ His voice was sharp. ‘What’s wrong?’

      She had no time for explanations. She stumbled across the room, one hand to her stomach, the other clamped to her mouth as she tasted bile.

      Miraculously the bathroom door swung open and she dived in just in time to brace herself as her last meal resurfaced. Her legs wobbled so much her knees folded and she almost crumpled to the floor.

      But an arm lashed round her, keeping her upright with all Raul’s formidable strength. Behind her she felt his body, hot and solid, anchoring her.

      Then she bent, retching as the paroxysm of nausea overcame her. Her skin prickled horribly and searing bitterness filled her as her stomach spasmed again and again till there was nothing more to bring up.

      She slumped, trembling and spent, eyes closed as she tried to summon strength to move.

      Her head spun, or did she imagine movement? Next thing she knew she was seated on the side of the bath and she sighed her gratitude as every muscle melted. Raul supported her and she couldn’t summon the energy to order him out. Not when he was all that kept her upright.

      Then, like a blessing, a damp cloth brushed her forehead, her cheeks and throat, her dry lips. She turned her face into it gratefully.

      ‘Drink this.’ A glass nudged her mouth. Gratefully she sipped cool water. The damp cloth wiped her forehead again and she almost moaned in relief. She was weak as a kitten.

      How could she face Raul now? Why was he here?

      Tears stung as exhaustion and self-pity flooded her.

      ‘You’re ill. I’ll call a doctor.’ She opened her eyes to meet a worried dark green gaze. Raul looked grim.

      She wanted to sit, basking in her husband’s concern, pretending it meant more than it surely did.

      ‘No. I’m not ill. It’s perfectly normal. A doctor won’t help with this.’

      Belatedly she realised what she’d said as Raul’s brows arched. Shock froze his features as he read the implications of her nausea.

      She’d meant to tell him soon. But not like this.

      ‘Please,’ she said quickly. ‘I need privacy to freshen up.’ She refused to have this conversation on the edge of the bath, with her hair matted across her clammy brow.

      Luisa turned away, not wanting to see suspicion darken his gaze. Pain welled and she bit her lip. After seeing her with Lukas it would be no surprise if Raul questioned the baby’s paternity. He hadn’t said he believed her explanation of why she’d been in Lukas’ embrace.

      Raul left the room without a word.

      She should have been grateful but felt only despair that he’d been eager to go. So much for her fantasy of them bonding over their child!

      Luisa took her time in the bathroom, but when she opened the door Raul was there. To her astonishment he swooped, scooping her into his arms.

      ‘I can walk.’ But her protest was half-hearted. His embrace was magic, even knowing it didn’t mean anything. Raul was a man for whom duty was paramount. Tending to a pregnant female would come naturally.

      He deposited her on the bed, where plumped up pillows sat against the headboard. He drew the coverlet over her and reached for something on the bedside table.

      ‘Here. Try this.’ It was a plate of salted crackers. He must have ordered them while she was in the bathroom.

      ‘I’m not an invalid.’ Luisa pushed them aside and fought not to succumb to the sweet delight of being cared for. Absurdly, the thoughtful gesture made her eyes swim, despite her anger and distress.

      It didn’t help that Raul looked wonderful. Faded denim stretched across his taut, powerful thighs. He wore a black pullover, sleeves bunched up to reveal strong, sinewy forearms. He was even more gorgeous than in one of his suave suits. Would she ever see him like this again? Her throat closed as she realised the answer was probably no.

      The bed sank as he sat, facing her. Luisa’s heart squeezed.

      ‘You’re pregnant.’ It was a statement.

      ‘I think so. But if I am it’s your child.’ She met his impenetrable gaze defiantly. ‘It’s got nothing to do with Lukas.’

      He reached out and smoothed a lock of hair off her brow. Luisa’s breath caught at the seeming tenderness of the gesture. She told herself she was a fool.

      ‘I didn’t think it had.’

      ‘Oh.’ She sank back, stunned.

      ‘Have you seen a doctor?’

      ‘No. It’s still early.’ She knew exactly when their baby had been conceived: that first tempestuous night of marriage, when she’d learned about ecstasy and heartache.

      But Raul’s calm acceptance surprised her. ‘So you never thought—?’

      He shook his head. ‘I can’t lie and say it didn’t occur to me.’ His eyes slid from hers. ‘But when would you have time for an affair? It’s my bed you share? My sofa. My desk.’

      ‘You’ve made your point!’ He didn’t have to remind her how needy she was for him. How he only had to tilt one dark eyebrow in delicious invitation for her pulse to thrum with anticipation.

      She stared hard into his face, trying to decipher his thoughts. Bewildered, she shook her head. ‘I thought you’d believe—’

      ‘That