He thought of telling her that she was right, that he was exactly what she’d called him, and that he was here only because he would see to it that his child—if this were his child—would carry his name, but she had no need to know such a personal thing about him.
“I carried her in my womb.” Carin’s voice shook with emotion. “I gave her life, almost at the cost of my own. And I’ll make the choices that will define her life. You’d better accept—”
“We come from different worlds, querida. In yours, morality is a game. In mine, women know their place. Men rule their homes, their lives, and their women.”
“How unfortunate for the women.”
He laughed, but the sound was flat and cold. “So you may think now, minha dona, but if the test results prove that I am, indeed, the father of your child, you will learn that there are advantages to such a life.” His gaze dipped to her lips, then lifted and met hers. “An obedient woman has nothing to worry about. She is well cared for.”
“So is my neighbor’s cat, but none of the women I know would choose to trade places with her.”
“Ah. But, you see, that is an excellent analogy. A cat learns its place, learns to obey simple commands and stay close to home, and it is rewarded. It’s stroked and petted. It’s given baubles and gifts. And, if it is very, very good, it’s permitted to spend its nights in its master’s bed.”
Carin felt a chill race along her skin. “What are you talking about? What does any of this have to do with me, or with my daughter?”
Rafe smiled. Carin watched the curl of his lips, the flatness of his eyes, and suddenly a chasm seemed to open before her.
“It’s late.” Her voice sounded thin and reedy and she cleared her throat. “Please leave now, Rafe. I’m very tired.”
He could see that she was. Her skin was so pale it seemed translucent; there was a fine tremor to her mouth. He imagined taking her in his arms, not to make love to her but to hold her close and soothe her, which only proved how good she was at making a man blind to reality.
The rest of what he had to tell her could wait until after the tests—if the tests showed that she was telling the truth.
“Sim. Rest, by all means. You will leave the hospital soon and once you do, your life will change. It’s best you prepare for it.”
“Of course my life will change,” she said quickly. “I know that. And I’m ready for it.”
Rafe paused, his hand on the door knob. Slowly, he turned and looked at her. “I hope so, querida,” he said softly. “But, somehow, I doubt it.”
CHAPTER FIVE
NEW YORK had been enjoying a warm, sunny Spring but the weather took a sudden change.
It was raining on the morning Carin was to be discharged from the hospital. The gray downpour suited her mood as she sat in a chair across from a representative from Bio Tech Labs. The rep had brought her the results of the tests she, Rafe and the baby had taken.
Rafe was her child’s father.
Carin had known what to expect but seeing the information that would affect three lives printed out in stark black letters sent an emotional shockwave reverberating through her system.
She tried not to show what she was feeling but she knew she wasn’t doing a very good job of it because the rep paused in the middle of a sentence.
“Are you all right, Ms. Brewster?” the woman asked. “Shall I send for the nurse?”
Carin shook her head. “No. No, I’m fine. It’s just—all the rain…It’s cool today, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” the tech said, “it is,” but the look in her eyes said she’d seen it all before, the disbelief in a woman’s face when she read words that confirmed what she already knew, that the last man on earth she wanted to deal with was the father of her child.
When Carin thought she could speak and not have her voice quaver, she folded the report, carefully inserted it back into its envelope and held it out. The Bio Tech rep shook her head.
“Oh, no, Ms. Brewster. That’s your copy. Keep it, please. Now, before I leave, is there anything you didn’t understand, or you’d like me to explain?”
Yes, Carin thought. How could one night’s mindless passion lead to such a mess? Not to the birth of her daughter. Already, with her baby not a week old, she knew how much she adored her. The thing she didn’t comprehend was how Rafe had suddenly become a part of her life.
In the blink of an eye, he’d gone from being a stranger to being a man demanding participation in her child’s future. It didn’t matter that she wanted nothing from him, that she’d have given anything to banish him from her world. He had plans that somehow made hers secondary. Like it or not, she was going to have to deal with him.
“Ms. Brewster?”
Carin looked up.
“Do you have any questions for me?”
“No. None, thanks. The report is—it’s very clear.”
“Yes, well, we pride ourselves on clarity.” The woman shut her briefcase, got to her feet and held out her hand. “The best of luck to you, then. We hope that our services have been of help.”
“Thank you.” Carin shook the woman’s hand, watched as she walked to the door. “Actually—actually there is one thing…”
“Yes?”
“Has Senhor Alvares received a copy of the report, too?”
“Certainly. Yesterday, in fact. It was too late to bring it to you but he’d requested the information as soon as—”
“Thank you. I understand.”
Except, she didn’t.
The door swung shut. Carin stared at the report lying in her lap. If Rafe had seen the proof he’d demanded, why hadn’t she heard from him? He’d been so filled with stiff-necked speeches about responsibility and obligation. Was the reality more than he could accept? Until the end, he must have clung to the hope that Frank was her baby’s father.
Carin bit back a moan. If only she could go back in time, change things, not have called out for him…
The baby, lying in a small portable crib next to her chair, made a soft sound in her sleep. Carin reached into the crib and gently touched one tiny hand.
“Not you, dumpling,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t change you for the world…but your father is a different story. I wish I didn’t have to deal with him.”
But she did.
Rafe’s arrogance infuriated her; his refusal to believe that he’d made her pregnant insulted her. And the way he’d looked at her last night, when he’d talked about changes in her life, terrified her.
What did he know that she didn’t? He’d insisted on proof that he was her baby’s father. Okay, he had that now, along with his name on the birth certificate. She hadn’t waited for the paternity report; she’d known what the results would be and last night, she’d instructed the hospital to list him as “father.” She’d also named her baby.
Her daughter would be called Amy.
“Amy,” Carin said softly, and took the baby from the crib just as Marta Baron walked
briskly into the room.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Marta said, beaming happily at her daughter and granddaughter. “Amy. Such a charming, old-fashioned name. Does Rafe like it?”
“I have no idea.” Carin’s voice was cool. “I didn’t consult him. It isn’t his business.”
“Now, sweetie, I know you’re angry at him, but—”
“Angry? At a man who demanded a test before he’d acknowledge he’s my baby’s father?” Carin laughed as she rose to her feet. “That’s not really the right word, Mother. Which reminds me…the results are in.” Her voice hardened. “Rafe has the proof he wanted. He’s Amy’s father.”
“Well, of course he is,” Marta cooed, as she reached for Amy. “Hello, precious. And how is my lovely little girl this morning?”
“She’s fine, and she wants to go home. So do I.”
“Not yet, sweetie. We have to—to wait. For—for the nurse.” Marta smiled brightly. “You can’t just walk out of a hospital. They have to take you out, in a wheelchair.”
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Carin said, and hated herself for sounding like a spoiled twelve-year-old. “I’m perfectly capable of walking.”
“Don’t be so impatient. Besides, I promised Rafe…” Marta caught her lip between her teeth. “I’ll go find the nurse.”
“Wait a minute.” Carin grasped her mother’s arm. “What did you promise Rafe? And when did you talk to him?”
“Oh…” Marta waved her hand in the air. “A while ago.”
“He’s here? In the hospital?”
“No. Not yet…” Marta flushed. “Oh, dear, I’m saying too much!”
“You aren’t saying enough. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
It was such a transparent lie that Carin would have laughed, except for her mother’s refusal to look her in the eye.
“Mom,” she said softly, “what aren’t you telling me? What could you and Rafe possibly have to talk about?”
“For goodness’ sake, Carin, don’t be like that. The man is the father of your child.”