“I’m waiting on my eye.” He’d had a consultation yesterday and heard what he’d already known. He needed reconstruction. It would take months, possibly a year, before he was camera ready. He still wanted marriage, but he appreciated Scarlett’s gesture of coming here and being willing to coparent.
“Squeamish, is she?” His mother set her cup in the saucer with a clink of disdain.
“Not as squeamish as Regina.” He watched her mouth flatten, but gleaned no pleasure from his dig against his mother’s poor choice in potential brides. “Look, I don’t like that Scarlett worked for Dad either, but she’s no longer his PA. She’s the mother of my son.”
“We’re sure of that, are we?”
“You just said he looks like me. Would you like the test results?”
She pinched her mouth with annoyance.
“We’ll talk more later,” he muttered, and started from the room.
“Javiero.”
He gathered his patience and turned.
“You’ll find her in the guest wing, next to the room we prepared for Locke.”
“Perdóneme?” He folded his arms. “What happened to finishing the dowager apartment and giving her your rooms?” That had been the plan when he’d been engaged to Regina. The work had been put on hold since the accident, but he had expected it to continue from the moment his mother had learned about Locke.
She sniffed. “I see no reason to move out of my room for anyone but your wife.”
“I guess you’ll have to listen through the wall while she shares mine, then.” Fueled by angry disgust, he took the stairs two at a time.
* * *
Scarlett was struggling with more than moving a desk. She was trying not to feel the frostbite off Paloma when she already had freezer burn blisters from Javiero. Today in the car was the most she’d seen him since she’d come to Spain and he’d been on the phone for much of the drive.
How was it that she was missing a man she’d barely ever seen? He was sweet as pie to Locke and gave her all his attention when they spoke about their son, but the minute conversations turned to other topics, he grew reticent. There had been no more overtures or kisses, no interest in her at all beyond polite inquiries about her health.
Meanwhile, she felt like a fraying piece of yarn, stretched thin between her son and her job, strummed by Javiero’s brief appearances, vibrating for hours afterward.
I can do this, she kept telling herself, refusing to give in to the sheer exhaustion that dogged her through each day.
“What are you doing? Stop that right now,” Javiero said as he strode through the door.
“I can’t reach the socket.” She hadn’t been sure what to make of the studio room she’d been given next to Locke’s. She suspected it was intended for a nanny, given the kitchenette with a coffee press, microwave and shelf of mismatched dishes, but she was up in the night often enough that it seemed convenient.
“Am I the only one who remembers you had a baby two weeks ago? Ask the butler to bring in laborers if you want to move furniture. Ask me. Where’s Locke?”
“Sleeping.” She nodded at the baby monitor on her nightstand.
“And where’s the nanny?” He took the monitor and followed her point to across the hall. She heard him say, “We’ll be in my suite if he needs us. That’s your room—don’t let the maid unpack Scarlett in there. She’s sleeping with me.”
“Since when?” Scarlett moved to the open door with a lurch in her chest.
“Since we’re not having this conversation here.” He motioned her to accompany him up the hall.
Scarlett didn’t have much fight in her. Being a new mother left a woman feeling like a wet rag. She couldn’t blame anyone, not even poor wee Locke and his upset tummy. She was avoiding coffee, worried caffeine was transferring and causing his fussiness so she didn’t even have that in her system to counter her sleep deprivation.
“I’d like to be next to him,” she mumbled. “Especially at night.” This seemed like a long way away. Javiero was striding so fast she had to hurry to keep up with him. “I won’t start him on a bottle, if that’s what you’re thinking. I don’t care what your mother says.”
“Say it louder so she’ll hear you.”
His gruff tone scraped the flesh from her bones, it really did. Was he going to punish her forever for not telling him about Locke? She wanted to cry, Look at what I’m doing! But it was no more than any new mother went through, she reminded herself.
It just felt awfully lonely.
They entered what appeared to be a newer wing of the house. He flung open a pair of double doors into a massive bedroom with a four-poster bed the size of a concert stage. Part of the exterior wall was made up of doors that slid open, stacking on one side so the room opened directly onto a wide terrace overlooking the vineyard and surrounding countryside.
It was a burst of sunshine and a glorious vista. A doorway into a new world that was grand and paradisiacal, yet masculine and intimate.
“This is beautiful.” She was drawn outside to absorb the view. The terrace carried along, swelling in the middle where a small alfresco dining table stood, then narrowing again in front of another room on the far side. Below was a private garden and the pool.
Behind her, Javiero closed the entry doors with a snap. She came back inside to watch him cross to another pair of interior doors and lock those, as well.
“Where does that lead?”
“My mother has chosen not to relinquish her bedroom or the lounge that connects us. Not until you are my wife.” His tone knocked that ball firmly into her court.
He hadn’t mentioned marriage in over a week so she was a little surprised it was still on the agenda. She thought about it, a lot, but she couldn’t see taking on the role of wife, especially an unloved one,
