In Christofides' Keeping (10 page)

She’d been too young to fight against her father’s control, and he’d tried to wipe away every last trace of who she really was. She couldn’t forget that. She had to fight Rico for her own preservation and Lola’s. She
had
to.

Gypsy woke to a gentle prodding, and opened her eyes to see Lola’s big grey ones staring up at her, alongside Rico’s. He was squatting by her side, holding her. She
was awake in an instant, her back protesting as she’d fallen asleep sitting up.

Lola smiled at her, small teeth flashing, ‘Mama…fly!’

Gypsy smiled tightly, hiding her momentary sense of disorientation at knowing that Rico had obviously taken care of Lola when she’d woken, and had been watching her sleeping. Lola was picking up more and more words every day now, generally repeating back any words said to her. Gypsy automatically went to reach for her, but Rico took her over to sit on his lap. Gypsy saw that his paperwork was put away.

He glanced at her and said, ‘We’re landing shortly. Buckle up.’

And just like that he was settling a completely contented Lola in his arms, and securing the seat belt around them. It made her think again of how at ease he’d been with Lola from day one. And he was growing in confidence around her, having no apparent qualms about picking her up or playing with her. He’d shielded her from the glare of the paprazzi cameras as they’d left the penthouse that morning, cocooning her within his arms. This side of Rico was one she hadn’t anticipated, and while she still didn’t doubt it was temporary, while the novelty lasted it unsettled her more than she liked to admit.

She couldn’t help asking curiously, ‘Have you always wanted children?’

Rico sent her a quick look, his hands huge around Lola, making something ache in Gypsy’s chest. She qualified. ‘That is…you seem very comfortable with Lola…’

Rico felt his daughter’s plump and solid little body curved into him so trustingly, and knew without a
moment’s hesitation that he would lay his life down for her. Gypsy was looking at him with those huge eyes, her hair tumbled around her shoulders in glorious abandon. Her question unsettled him. He’d never thought about having children—had never wanted to have children. How could he explain that the concept of fatherhood had always mystified him, having had no good experience to call on?

But the day he’d seen Lola for the first time he’d suddenly
known
instinctively what it was. And as he’d come to terms with it, he had been able to feel so much more of his father’s pain and loss. And also to hate his stepfather even more for his cruel treatment. And…a hardness settled in his chest…he could also hate Gypsy a little bit more for denying him this basic right.

But he couldn’t articulate this to the woman who sat across from him, the woman he’d found himself staring at while she slept, looking so innocent. It had taken all his restraint and control not to pick her up out of her seat and carry her down to the bedroom to slake his lust. He hated wanting her so badly. He wanted to be able to control his desire. He wanted to be immune to her charms, unmoved by her wild beauty which called to him as strongly now as when he’d first seen her.

He schooled his features, afraid she might see something of the turmoil within him. ‘Whether I wanted children or not is no longer a relevant question. I have Lola, and the reason I’m comfortable with her is because she is
mine
, my flesh and blood, and I will do everything in my power to protect her.’

T
HE
fervour of Rico’s words still rang in Gypsy’s head as they sped along the wide Buenos Aires boulevards to Rico’s brother’s home, where they were going to be guests. A trickle of sweat dropped between her breasts even though the car was air-conditioned. It had been like walking into a baking oven, stepping off the plane into the bright Argentinian sunshine just a short while before.

Rico had warned Gypsy how hot it was likely to be, but even in light linen trousers and a shirt she was still hot. Luckily there had been some summer dresses and light clothes amongst Lola’s new wardrobe, and now she was all decked out in a gorgeous polka dot dress, complete with sandals and matching pants.

Sitting in a baby seat, she looked out at the view with big eyes, turning to smile winningly at Gypsy every now and then, or to point and exclaim intermittently, ‘Car!’ or, ‘Woof! Woof!’ when she saw a dog.

Rico was sitting in the front, alongside the driver, conversing in Spanish. He looked back at Lola indulgently when she pointed out the umpteenth car. ‘Very good,
mi nenita
…’

Gypsy had to swallow an inexplicable lump, and looked out of her own window. She wondered if there
would come a time when Rico might look at
her
without that censorious, unforgiving light in his eyes, and despaired that she even wanted that.

She could see that they were in a more residential area now, with huge houses just visible behind tall trees and flowering bushes. The car slowed, and a set of ornate black gates opened to reveal a long drive which led to a huge open courtyard and a stunning house.

On the steps Gypsy could see a beautiful slim woman with short dark hair holding a chubby black-haired baby, and beside her a tall dark man who bore a striking resemblance to Rico. It had to be Rafael—his half-brother. And between their legs danced a small dark-haired girl in worn shorts and a T-shirt, bare feet. The sight comforted Gypsy, who hadn’t really known what to expect.

They got out. Gypsy was all fingers and thumbs on Lola’s straps, but finally managed to extricate her. She went shy at the sight of so many new faces and leant into Gypsy, her thumb in her mouth.

Rico was by her side then, a hand on her back, and Gypsy felt slightly comforted. They walked forward, and any trepidation fled at the huge smile on Rafael’s wife’s face as she walked forward to meet them, embracing Gypsy warmly, and then Rico.

‘It’s
so
lovely to meet you, Gypsy. And Lola—isn’t she a sweetie?’ Gypsy was surprised to hear that Isobel sounded quite English, and also
looked
more English than Argentinian.

Gypsy was aware of the two brothers greeting each other warmly, but with a certain reserve she couldn’t put her finger on. She smiled at Rafael in greeting, and could see that up close there were distinct similarities. But where Rico’s eyes were that cold steel-grey, Rafael’s were dark brown. And he didn’t have the air of suppressed
danger that seemed to surround Rico like a cloak of darkness.

The introductions were quick and chaotic. Beatriz their four-year-old daughter, was adorable, with big chocolate-brown eyes, and clearly excited to meet her new cousin.

Rico surprised Gypsy by picking Beatriz up and making her squeal with delight, before saying, ‘Once Lola is settled in you can get to know her…’

Beatriz smiled and said, ‘OK, Uncle Rico.’

In a flurry of being ushered inside, where a homely housekeeper appeared, wiping her hands on an apron, and more introductions, Gypsy deduced that Rafael and Isobel were blissfully happy. It oozed from every cell of their beings and throughout the house as Isobel led Gypsy on a whirlwind tour.

Standing at a bedroom door some minutes later, Isobel apologised, saying with a grimace, ‘I’m sorry—you must be absolutely exhausted. I know how arduous the flight can be from England; I went to school there, near my father’s family. But here I am chattering on when all you probably want to do is wash and rest.’

Isobel was cradling her smiley baby easily, and Gypsy felt in that moment that they could be good friends. She’d never had a close female friend before. She smiled shyly, feeling a sudden weariness wash over her. ‘To be honest, it’s all been a bit of a whirlwind…but I’m very happy to meet you too—and your children are gorgeous.’

Isobel grimaced again, but smiled. ‘
Most
of the time, as I’m sure you well know.’

Gypsy shared a complicit smile and appreciated Isobel’s lack of questions when she and Rafael had to have dozens. Just then Rico appeared, and Isobel gestured to the huge luxuriously furnished room through the
open door. ‘I hope this will be suitable for you both, and Lola. I’ve set up a cot for Lola in the room off the dressing room, so she’s close by. I’ve also left baby monitors in there if you want them at night. If you need anything else just shout. Someone will bring your bags up shortly, but get some rest in the meantime. We’ll eat at about eight, after the children are in bed.’

Rico’s voice rumbled through Gypsy. ‘Thank you, Isobel, we’ll see you later.’

With a little wave Isobel walked quickly down the corridor. Gypsy and Rico still stood at the bedroom door. With a hand on her back he propelled her inside. Gypsy clutched Lola to her like a lifeline as she realised something very scary on investigating the rooms. One bedroom, one bathroom, one dressing room and one smaller room, where a cot and changing table had been set up.

She whirled to face Rico. ‘This room is surely for me and Lola. Where’s your room?’

He crossed his arms. ‘Right here.’

Gypsy backed away and shook her head. Rico had changed on the plane, into a pair of faded denims and a dark polo shirt, and he was all too devastating to her equilibrium like this. ‘No way. We are not sharing a bed. Obviously Isobel has assumed we’re a…a couple. I’ll have to let her know.’

Gypsy walked purposefully forward, but Rico stopped her with his arm. Lola, the little traitor, squirmed out of Gypsy’s arms towards Rico, and she had to let her go when he reached for her. Looking far too smug, he said, ‘You will do no such thing. She’s gone to a lot of trouble to set this room up, and would be mortified to think that you’re not happy with the arrangement.’

He shrugged insouciantly. ‘All we have to do is share
a king-sized bed. You can put pillows down the centre, if you like. Or is it that you’re just afraid that you won’t be able to help yourself from ripping my clothes off?’

Gypsy balled her hands into fists and felt another trickle of sweat go down the small of her back. ‘You’re just playing with me. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that there aren’t a dozen more bedrooms here that you could use.’

‘It’s not up for debate, Gypsy. Now, you can go and bother Isobel with this tiny problem, when she’s got her hands full with her kids and organising the christening in two days, or you can just let it go and be an adult about it.’

Once again Gypsy felt like stamping her foot. What was it about this man that made her regress to a mental age of fifteen? But steel resolve straightened her spine. ‘Fine. If that’s the way you want it, I will have no problem keeping my hands off you. But know this, Rico Christofides, if you so much as breathe near me I will scream this place down.’

Rico smiled a shark’s smile. ‘You might scream, but it won’t be to keep me away from you.’

Gypsy flushed, remembering how abandoned she’d been the night they’d slept together. And the other day in the study. No self-control whatsoever. Mortified, and burning up inside with humiliation but determined not to let him see it, she held out her hands for Lola, who just looked at her, quite content in Rico’s arms. ‘I should feed her now. She’ll be hungry.’

Rico said easily, ‘Why don’t I feed her and let you wash and rest? I’ll bring her back up when she’s ready to go down for the evening. Beatriz is probably driving her parents crazy wanting to see her again anyway.’

And just like that he took responsibility for her
daughter. Feeling thoroughly disgruntled and at odds with everything, her emotions see-sawing wildly, Gypsy could only watch as Rico walked out with Lola high in his arms, chattering away happily.

Still muttering to herself, Gypsy had a brief shower, and when she emerged in a voluminous fluffy robe, feeling half-human again, there was a smiling girl putting away their clothes.
Their clothes: hers and Rico’s.
That curious ache settled in her chest again, and Gypsy stuttered her thanks as the girl melted away discreetly.

The bed looked both terrifying and more inviting than anything she’d ever seen and, feeling as if surely she could snatch ten minutes of a nap, Gypsy lay down.

She woke much later, when dusk had fallen outside, to the familiar sound of Lola’s cry. Instantly she was awake, and saw Rico come into the room with an obviously cranky Lola in his arms. When she saw Gypsy she started to wail even louder. For the first time since she’d met him again Rico didn’t look his assured self. He actually looked
worried.

Gypsy pulled her robe tight around her, wishing she had taken the time to dress, and took Lola, whose wails decreased almost immediately.

Rico said tightly, ‘I’m not sure what’s wrong with her. She ate some lunch and played with Beatriz, and then suddenly she started crying…’

Gypsy knew it would be all too easy to make Rico feel bad, but that knowledge didn’t sit well. She couldn’t do it. She looked at him, trying not to notice how gorgeous he seemed in the dim light of the room, in the intimacy of this situation like any domestic couple with their child.

Smiling wryly, she said, ‘Welcome to cranky and tired Lola. She can go from upbeat and happy to heartbroken
in an instant. It’s been a lot for her to take in today, that’s all. She just needs to wind down and get to bed…I’ll get her a bottle and put her down.’

Rico surprised her by saying he’d get the bottle, and while he was gone Gypsy bathed Lola and changed her for the night. She couldn’t help sensing his relief at knowing that he hadn’t been at fault for upsetting Lola and that she was OK.

When he came back Gypsy was rocking Lola back and forth. She took the bottle from Rico and, after testing it, gave it to Lola, who was already falling asleep after a few greedy gulps. Rico stood with a shoulder against the doorjamb, watching them, and Gypsy felt huge relief at escaping from his intense scrutiny when she put Lola down and those long-lashed eyes closed in exhaustion.

She came out of the small room and pulled the door partway closed behind her, making sure to leave the baby monitor on in the room.

Rico said, ‘I’ll have a shower and see you downstairs, if you like. Dinner will be ready soon.’

Gypsy nodded, and as soon as she heard the shower going raced out of the robe and into a plain black dress and slingback heels, tying her hair back at her nape to tame it as much as she could. Escaping downstairs before Rico might emerge with just a towel around his waist seemed like the most important thing in the world.

She’d taken the second baby monitor with her, and as she approached the reception area a maid appeared as if from thin air and showed Gypsy into the main drawing room. Gypsy blushed to the roots of her hair when she saw Isobel sitting on Rafael’s lap, their heads close together, his arms about her waist, her arms around his neck.

Isobel jumped up the minute she saw her, an impish
grin on her face. ‘I’m sorry, Gypsy, we didn’t see you…Would you like an aperitif?’

Rafael stood too, and greeted Gypsy so urbanely that he defused her embarrassment. By the time Rico appeared, in a snowy-white shirt and black trousers, Gypsy was explaining to Rafael and Isobel about her name. As soon as Rico came and stood near her, though, her voice dried up in her throat at imagining sharing a bed with him that night.

The housekeeper appeared and called them through for dinner, which was served in a wood-panelled dining room.

Gypsy sat back after the dessert and patted her belly, trying to ignore Rico’s steely gaze across the table. She looked at Isobel. ‘That was too delicious for words…’

Isobel smiled. She was sitting directly opposite Gypsy, to Rafael’s right, with Rico beside her at the head of the table. ‘It’s nice that it’s just us this evening. I understand that you’re going to a function tomorrow night and that’s lucky for you as you’ll get to avoid the arrival of our other guests and the ensuing mayhem of preparations for the christening.’

Instinctively Gypsy leant forward. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

Isobel waved a hand. ‘Not at all. It’s all in hand. Believe me, it’s just lovely that you’re here.’ She sent a mischievous look to Rico. ‘According to Rico, we should never have believed that he might one day appear with a ready-made family.’ She continued. ‘What was it you said on our wedding day? Something about not offering a return invitation any time soon?’

Rico looked steadily at Gypsy and she was caught by his gaze, unable to read it or escape it. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and then he drawled, ‘Well…since I can’t
remember issuing a proposal, I’d say what I said then still holds firm…’

Gypsy was only vaguely aware of Rafael’s sharp intake of breath, and the discreet look between him and Isobel. Gypsy burned inside with humiliation, which was made worse because she knew his statement
shouldn’t
bother her—especially not after he’d succinctly outlined his requirements for a wife. But before she could come back with some witty rejoinder, to show how he hadn’t affected her even when he
had
, the door opened and Rafael and Isobel’s nanny came in.

She said something to Isobel, who stood up, apologising. ‘It’s Luis. He won’t settle. Please excuse me?’

Wanting desperately to escape, Gypsy half stood and said, ‘I should check on Lola.’ But to her dismay Isobel waved her back down. ‘Don’t be silly. Have your coffee and I’ll check on her for you.’

Feeling sick inside, Gypsy sat back down and couldn’t meet Rico’s eye. Thankfully Rafael seemed happy to cover the gap in conversation, and Gypsy let the talk flow over her. She hated that she felt so hurt by Rico’s comment. He’d all but stated that he wouldn’t be marrying Gypsy if she was the last woman on earth, even if she was the mother of his child. And she didn’t even
want
to marry him! He was welcome to the tall, sleek, blonde heiress-type he’d undoubtedly go for. Or the sultry red-head—even if he said he hadn’t slept with her.