The Alvares Bride. Sandra Marton

      “I hope not. Raphael Alvares is the last man I want to see.”

      “Sweetie,” Marta said gently, “you don’t mean that.”

      “I mean every word.”

      “Maybe now’s not the best time to make decisions,” Jonas said. “You might want to think about things. And your baby’s got a stake in this, missy.” He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. “Maybe I learned it a little late but a kid’s got the right to grow up knowin’ who his…who her father is.”

      “Look,” Carin said wearily, “I know you all mean well, that you want to protect me and my daughter, but you have to understand, I did the right thing. Things were different for you and Tyler, Jonas—”

      “Things are always different,” Slade said gruffly. “But a man’s entitled to know he’s a father, and to tell you how he feels about it. A woman denies him that right, he might do anything to claim his—”

      “Slade, for heaven’s sakes!” Marta glared at her stepson. “Must we discuss this now?”

      “You’re right.” He took a deep breath. “Carin, honey, I’m sorry.”

      “No, it’s okay. I know you’re worried about me but trust me, this is—it’s different than it was for you, Jonas, or for you, Slade…”

      “Yeah, sure.” Slade hesitated, then bent down and pressed his lips to Carin’s forehead. “Just keep something in mind,” he said softly. “Men aren’t always the enemy, kid.”

      “I know.” She smiled, took his hand and brought it to her cheek. “I can think of a few who might even qualify as good guys.”

      But not Raphael Alvares. She couldn’t imagine anyone thinking of him as a good guy. Still, he was the kind of man Slade had described, one who’d do whatever it took to get what he wanted. As little as she knew about Rafe, she was certain he’d move heaven and earth to claim a thing, if he wanted it badly enough.

      He hadn’t wanted her.

      She made a soft sound of distress. Marta grabbed her hand.

      “Carin? Darling, what is it?”

      “Nothing. Really, I’m fine.” She smiled and pressed her mother’s hand in reassurance. “I’m—I’m a little achy, that’s all.”

      “Well, of course you are. Achy, and all worn out, and here we are, giving you lectures when we should be letting you rest.” Marta kissed her, then turned towards the others. “I have an idea,” she said briskly. “Slade, you go find us some coffee. Jonas, you wait in the lounge. Lara, you and I will go hunt down that doctor…”

      Carin grabbed for Amanda’s hand as the Barons filed from the room. “Mandy?”

      Amanda leaned towards her. “Mmm?”

      “I want you to promise me you won’t do anything.”

      “Anything about what?”

      “You know what. I don’t want you getting the same silly idea everybody else seems to have about getting in touch with—with Rafe.”

      Amanda colored. “Well—well, actually, Sis, when you kept calling his name, I thought—I mean, you seemed to want…”

      “Not him,” Carin said fiercely. “Never him!”

      “Well—well don’t worry about any of that now, okay? Just concentrate on getting better.” Amanda’s voice softened. “And think about that little girl of yours, about how you’ll want to do all the right things for her.”

      “Oh, I will.” Carin sighed. “I can’t wait to see her.”

      “Look, why don’t I see if I can get the nurse to bring the baby to you right now?”

      “Would you?”

      “Sure.” Amanda put her arms around Carin and hugged her. “Meanwhile, just shut your eyes and rest, okay, Sis?”

      “Okay,” Carin said, and yawned.

      The door swung softly closed. Carin yawned again, closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift. Her baby. Her very own little girl. She could hardly wait to see her. Would she look like her father?

      Rafe was so handsome. Those deep, dark eyes. That dark, silky hair. The firm mouth, that had felt so wonderful against hers…

      He’d been such an incredible lover.

      Strong. Powerful. His body hard and hot as he’d moved above her. His hands, all-knowing and clever, touching her in ways Frank had never touched her, until she’d cried out, arched against him, and then he’d slipped his hands beneath her, lifted her to him, entered her slowly, slowly, buried himself inside her.

      She’d come even as he entered her, come again and again, and that had never happened to her before. She’d never flown so fast, so high, never wanted the night to last forever, the arms that held her to hold her forever…

      Her eyes flew open. What was she thinking?

      She’d just given birth. Sex was the last thing she ought to have on her mind and besides, why did she keep romanticizing what had happened? Rafe hadn’t even tried to pretend that taking her to bed had meant something; he’d walked away from her as if she were the cheap slut she’d made herself out to be.

      Her throat constricted.

      What did any of that matter now? She was tired, that was all. Overwrought, by what she’d just gone through. Rafe didn’t mean a thing to her; he never had. What she’d wanted from him was what he’d given her, oblivion in his arms, and if memories of that night still haunted her, it only proved how truly pathetic she was.

      “Carin?”

      Carin opened her eyes. The room was empty, except for her doctor, who stood beside the bed.

      “Doctor.” She sat up, her eyes bright with anticipation. “I want to see my daughter.”

      “Yes,” he said, and grinned, “so they tell me. Just give me five minutes to check you over, and I’ll tell them to bring her to you.”