The Last Heir of Monterrato. Andie Brock

have one with.’ Twisting her bottom on the seat, she sniped back at him, chin high, chest forward. She knew she sounded like a bitter old crow but she couldn’t help herself. ‘Judging by the number of women that seem to constantly surround you, I’m sure you could have the pick of party socialites only too happy to produce endless beautiful Monterrato heirs for you.’

      Thunder rolled across Rafael’s face.

      ‘For God’s sake, Charlotte.’ His fist banged down on the desk, rattling the ormolu inkstand on its lion’s paws feet. His eyes were glaring wildly with some unseen force as they locked with Lottie’s, now saucer-shaped with alarm. ‘Why can’t I make you understand? It is our baby I want.’

      Lottie’s mouth fell open, soft with astonishment. This was not the calm, composed Rafael that she knew. The man who was so totally in control of his emotions that she had never seen him break down—not even when their baby had died. He was certainly not the kind of man to lose his temper. At least he never had been.

      A thought suddenly occurred to her. He had been in a terrible accident—an accident that had resulted in injuries to his head. Was it possible that he was suffering from some sort of post-traumatic mood disorder? Would that explain the jumpy, volatile, almost out of control man before her?

      ‘You are right, Rafe, I don’t understand.’ She lowered her voice to try and coax the truth out of him. ‘Is it something to do with the accident? Has it affected you in some way?’

      The scrape of his chair across the polished parquet floor made Lottie start as he lunged to his feet, leaning forward across the desk with the stillness of a viper about to strike.

      ‘Why would you say that?’

      ‘I don’t know. I just wondered...’ And, judging by his attitude, she had hit the nail squarely on the head. ‘Do you want to talk about it? You never know—it might help.’

      Turning his back Rafael strode towards the windows, the floor creaking beneath his forceful steps. ‘There is nothing to talk about. It happened. That’s all there is to it.’ He all but growled the words over his shoulder.

      Maledizione. Talking about it was the very last thing he wanted to do. He felt his breath heaving in his chest with the wretched frustration of it all, felt the unfamiliar sense of powerlessness fuelling his temper.

      But what had he expected? That Lottie would agree, with no further explanation, to bear him a child just like that?

      He could have lied, of course. Wooed her back until he’d achieved his goal, then told her it was all a sham. Just the thought of the challenge heated the blood in his veins. He could feel her eyes scanning his rear view, sense her biting the inside of her cheek as she waited, the rise and fall of her breasts with each shallow breath, the way she slid her hands between tightly pressed thighs as she perched on the edge of her seat. All of which sent hot waves of desire through his body that would make taking her to his bed—hell, taking her across the desk there and then, for that matter—the easiest thing in the world. And who would blame him, after the way she had treated him, if he used her for his own pleasure? But, no, sex wasn’t the answer—no matter how tempting it was.

      Outside the light was starting to fade, and with the lamps still not lit the room had taken on a grey, almost smoky hue. Lottie feasted her eyes on the proud silhouette, tall, muscular, brooding against the dying light, committing the image to memory before wrenching her gaze away again.

      ‘Well, in that case there is nothing more to be said.’ Her breath juddered and she rose to her feet. ‘There is no point in my being here.’

      ‘No! Stop!’ Despite his injuries he was beside her in a couple of long strides, grabbing hold of her arm as she reached down to pick up her handbag.

      There was a frozen second of astonishment as they stared at each other, then Lottie’s eyes moved from the hand that gripped her forearm to the darkening face of the man it belonged to. Instantly dropping her arm, Rafael stepped back, pushing the ruffled hair away from his forehead.

      ‘I’m sorry. Forgive me.’

      ‘Rafe? Whatever is it?’

      Throwing back his shoulders, he fixed her with a penetrating stare.

      ‘Okay, Lottie, if you must know I will spell it out for you.’

      His voice was harsh, but the anguish and pain held deep in his eyes sent a shiver of alarm through Lottie.

      ‘The fact is that, as of four weeks ago, I am no longer able to father a child. You and our frozen embryo are my only chance of ever producing an heir.’

CHAPTER TWO

      ‘YOU CAN’T EVER have children?’ Lottie stared at him, her face a picture of horror.

      ‘Correct.’ Rafael remained where he was, his feet firmly planted, his arms behind his back.

      ‘You are...infertile?’

      ‘I think we’ve established that.’ He glowered at her. ‘And, before you let your imagination run away with you, that’s all it means. Everything else is working quite normally, thank you.’

      Lottie flushed. He had, of course, read her mind perfectly.

      ‘But why? How?’

      ‘I’ll spare you the details, but basically the tree that saved my life prevented me from being able to produce another. A bizarre twist of fate, I think you’ll agree.’

      The flush turned into an exaggerated wince. Lottie simply didn’t know what to say. She could only imagine the devastating effect this must have had on Rafael. Not to mention the physical pain at the time.

      ‘But is it permanent? I mean, won’t it heal? Or isn’t there some medical procedure that can make it right?’

      ‘It would seem not.’ Rafael shifted his position, alerting Lottie to the fact that she was staring at his groin. ‘Believe me, I have explored every avenue.’

      ‘Oh, Rafe.’ Suddenly Lottie was rushing over to him, flinging her arms around his neck and hugging his unyielding body. ‘I’m so sorry.’

      Picking her arms from around his rigid neck with a look of distaste, Rafael let them drop by her sides and took a step back. ‘It’s not your sympathy I am looking for. It is an arrangement of a much more practical kind.’

      Lottie gazed up at him, eyes wide with concern.

      ‘I’m so sorry,’ she repeated, her mind still struggling to take in this shocking disclosure. ‘This must be very difficult for you to come to terms with.’

      She put a hand out to touch him but he moved out of her reach, crossing his arms in front of him to form a barrier.

      ‘Have you talked this through with anyone? Had any counselling? You mustn’t keep it all bottled up inside.’

      ‘Pah!’ Rafael gave a derisive snort. ‘I do not need counselling, thank you, what I need is a solution to the problem.’

      No change there, then; Lottie didn’t know why she had even asked the question. She stared at the proud, haughty man who stood stubbornly a few feet away from her. Here was someone who would rather die than give in to his emotions, whose approach to any problem was to get it fixed and move on, rather than take time to grieve or heal.

      ‘Sometimes there is no solution, Rafe. You just have to accept it.’

      ‘Of course there is a solution,’ he bit back, ‘and it lies with you.’

      So this was it, then. The reason she was here. Not to sign divorce papers, to end their marriage, but as part of a last desperate attempt by Rafael to provide a Revaldi heir. Lottie bent her head, covering her eyes with her hand as she tried to order her thoughts, formulate some sort of response, explain to him that, no matter how deeply she felt for his predicament,