Читать книгу The Holiday Escapes Collection - Сандра Мартон - Страница 31

You deserve better than a man like me.

The next morning, Xerxes woke up stiff and sore from sleeping alone outside in the hammock on the beach. He still couldn’t believe it.

He’d had her. Naked and ripe for the taking. He’d seen it in her body’s reaction to his touch, in the quiver of her neck and shoulders beneath the stroke of his fingers, in the flush of heat on her skin.

He’d had her. Getting her to release him from his promise, luring her into just gasping out the words kiss me would have been the easiest thing in the world.

It had taken slightly longer than he’d thought it would, but he’d finally succeeded in getting her where he wanted her. Bedding Rose last night would have been at once his revenge—and his reward.

And yet he’d let her go. He’d stumbled away from the bathtub, and her body covered with bubbles, without a word. Once outside, he’d stripped off his dusty clothes and dived naked into the sea to clear his body of dust. To clear his soul of desire.

You deserve better than a man like me.

Now, raking his hand through his hair, he twisted his aching neck to crack the aching vertebrae. After sleeping outside all night, he cursed himself silently. Why had he let her go last night? Why had he shown such foolish mercy?

“I’ll have faith…” He heard her voice like music, and remembered the way she’d looked at him with eyes of endless blue. “A life without faith, without being brave enough to risk loving someone and be loved in return, is no life at all.”

Xerxes’s lip curled. His frustration and lack of sleep were clearly melting his brain!

He’d come to the Maldives yesterday filled with optimism, after his chief bodyguard had told him Laetitia had been sighted here. He’d known if he could find her on his own and get her safely to good medical care, he would have no need to deal with Växborg. Once Laetitia was well, she could divorce him herself. And Xerxes—he could keep Rose for himself.

But after almost a year of repeated sightings that proved false, Xerxes should have known better than to hope. The small hut at the end of the dusty road on the other side of the island had been deserted. Talking to the neighbors, they discovered that someone who looked like Laetitia had indeed been there. But she’d been moved just two days before, and they did not know where she’d gone. Her caretaker, a toothless old woman who spoke no English and had no medical training, had been paid in cash. The woman said that the young sleeping woman still lived. That was all she knew.

Returning alone to the honeymoon cottage, Xerxes had been furious and angry—at Växborg, but even more at himself.

Why couldn’t he find Laetitia?

Why couldn’t he save her?

Why did he keep failing?

When Xerxes had seen Rose sleeping peacefully at the table on the beach, he’d stopped on the sand. She was alone beneath the sunset, ethereally sexy in those little gauzy robes over a bikini. And he’d suddenly known how he would take out his frustration. How he would take both his solace—and his pleasure.

Before he’d reached out his hand to shake her awake, he’d already decided that he would possess her. He wouldn’t force her. He just wouldn’t leave her any other choice.

No woman could resist a seduction as gentle as a question. Once secure in the false belief that she held all the power, a woman always surrendered. Power was a heady aphrodisiac.

And last night, Rose would have surrendered as well. If he hadn’t let her go.

Why? He rubbed his forehead wearily. Why had he done it? Because he liked her? Because she had a good heart? Because he admired her?

He thought again of her beauty. Of her luscious body. And his eyes narrowed.

Next time, he would be ruthless.

“Did you really sleep out here all night?”

At the sound of her shy voice, he looked up to discover Rose standing awkwardly beside the hammock. She was wearing a little white cover-up of eyelet cotton and flip-flop sandals. Her face was bare and lightly tanned, her blond hair wavy and tumbling down her shoulders. She looked very young.

“Yes,” he said shortly.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know. You could have slept on the couch.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “I don’t bite.”

“Maybe I do.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

At her shining smile, an ache filled his chest that felt like pain.

Morning had dawned over the beach, streaking pink across the sky over the crystalline waves. A fresh breeze blew through the palm trees overhead, causing tendrils of her blond hair to curl across her beautiful face.

And it was then that he saw it in her face, bright as day. Rose actually cared about him.

The realization jolted him like a kick in the gut. He climbed out of the hammock so quickly that he nearly fell.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine.” He straightened, irritated.

“Why did you leave like that last night?” she persisted, in spite of the clear signals. He didn’t wish to discuss it.

“For your own good,” he muttered.

“What?”

Angrily, he whirled on her. “Just leave it alone. Trust me. You slept better last night without my company.”

She stared at him.

“No,” she said in a low voice. “You’re wrong. I didn’t sleep at all.” Her beautiful face was heartbreakingly angelic as she whispered, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t look away.

He wanted her so badly that his whole body thrummed with it. Painfully. Single-mindedly.

He wanted to take her right here on the deserted beach, to rip off her white cover-up in the pale pink morning, to push her naked body against the sand and kiss and suckle and taste every inch of her skin. He wanted to push himself inside her, to fill her completely, to ride her until she forgot every other lover, until she screamed his name.

Standing before her in yesterday’s T-shirt and jeans, Xerxes held himself still. His hands clenched with the effort it took not to kiss her. “Why were you thinking about me?”

“You try to pretend you’re selfish and cruel,” she said softly. “But I keep thinking about you and coming to one conclusion. You’re a good man.”

He gave a low laugh, like thunder reverberating across the dark sky. “I am not good.” Something snapped inside him and he reached for her shoulders, looking down into her eyes searchingly as he whispered, “But you…you are.”

“Oh.” She blushed. “I’m not so very good. I’ve been feeling quite stupid, actually, driving you away from your bed. The couch, I mean.”

She was stammering, embarrassed. As if she had anything to feel guilty about, when it had been Xerxes who deliberately rented the honeymoon cottage to set the stage for easy seduction! “Don’t worry about it.” He looked down at his clothes, no longer dusty but now stiff from dried seawater. “A night beneath the stars is just what I needed.”

She bit her lip. “Still, I feel badly. No more sleeping outside, all right? Come inside. I’ve made you some breakfast.”

“You did?” He paused, then added dryly, “Is that supposed to be consolation, or punishment?”

“I know how to cook!” she said, sticking out her tongue. “The spaghetti was not my fault. I thought the rice noodles would work.”

He could feel the warmth off her body as he looked down at her. The smile slid from her face as their eyes locked, burning through him.

“Are you sure you can trust me?” he said roughly. “To be alone with you in the cottage?”

Looking up with big eyes, she nodded.

“How do you know?”

“I can feel it. Besides—” she suddenly gave him a cheeky grin “—you gave me a promise.”

She headed toward the cottage. He stared at her for a moment, then followed her, admiring the sweet curve of her backside with every step. She was starting to fill out a bit, he noticed with satisfaction. He would enjoy continuing to fatten her up. He had the sudden image of Rose, rounded and pregnant with his child.

Oh, my God. Sucking in his breath, he stopped in place, nearly slapping himself on the skull. What the hell madness was this?

“This way,” she called. He hurried through the cottage, barely noticing the perfectly swept floors and gleaming kitchen as he hurried past the bedroom door and out onto the lanai. The shadowed patio was still cool in the early morning. He saw she’d set up the little table for two. Next to the coffeepot was a plate with buttered toast and a carefully cut bowl of fruit beside the flowers.

She gave him a grin. “See? I know how to cook.”

“Fruit and toast?”

“I wanted Mrs. Vadi to stay home until her daughter was well.” She looked at him anxiously. “That’s all right, isn’t it? This is what I know how to make.” She gave a sudden giggle. “I know I’m a wretched cook, but I’m actually much better at cleaning than cooking. The cottage looked clean, didn’t it?”

He dimly remembered seeing polished floors and an immaculate kitchen. He hadn’t really noticed. He never really saw the work of servants or employees, he just took the results of their labor for granted. He slowly looked at her.

“This is your idea of a vacation?” He brushed a tendril from her face. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Rose. The way you care so much for other people. The way you try so hard to make everyone else’s life better. You never think of yourself. We’re so different. So very different.”

He heard her intake of breath. She tilted her head, looking up at him. “We’re not.”

Immediate defiance, typical of her. It almost made him choke a laugh. But he couldn’t. How could she believe he had anything good in his soul?

Because she is a fool. Something he would prove to her when he seduced her, luring her into his bed for the express purpose of his own selfish pleasure, coupled with the satisfaction of causing his enemy pain. And then he would trade her.

She reached her hand up toward his rough cheek. “You are a good man. I know you are.” Her eyes were luminous as she whispered, “Why do you do it, Xerxes? Why do you pretend to have no heart?”

Her gentle touch burned him. Suddenly, he couldn’t bear it. He jerked his head away from her hand.

She stared at him in surprise. He was equally surprised. This was the same strange reaction his body had had last night.

You deserve better than a man like me.

Xerxes Novros, who’d fought tycoons, ruthless despots and corrupt businessmen, had been rendered powerless by this beautiful, gentle-hearted woman.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, backing away. “I need to—need to…take a shower.” He glanced down again at the table, at all the effort she’d clearly put into breakfast. She must have been up before dawn to arrange the flowers and cut the fruit; doing everything herself so that the housekeeper could be home with her sick child and working hard so that he, Xerxes, would not be disappointed or angry. “I’ll be back,” he choked out.

Fleeing to the bathroom, he took a very hot shower, but it did not help him relax. So he turned the temperature to freezing cold. But even an arctic blast of cold water couldn’t stop this fire inside him. This fire for her.

She was the first, the only, pure-hearted woman he’d ever known. Who would give up their own sleep, to work for free in place of a stranger who claimed to have a sick child?

Xerxes would not have done it. He didn’t know anyone who would. He would have either assumed the woman was lying about the child—working some angle—or else he would have not wanted to get involved. Not my problem, he would have said.

And yet Rose had immediately said, Yes, I want to help. Sick child? I’ll do all your work. Go home to your daughter!

Xerxes leaned his head against the cool marble of the shower, then turned off the water. He got dressed in khaki shorts and a snug black T-shirt.

He threw a tortured glance toward the lanai where she waited. Yes, he was hungry. But not for food.

He took a deep breath. Could he ruthlessly seduce a woman like this—a woman with such a kind soul that she believed the best of everyone, even him?

She’s not some innocent virgin, his lust argued. He would make sure she thoroughly enjoyed their affair. She would have nothing to regret.

And yet he knew she would. A woman like Rose didn’t take lovers easily. She couldn’t have done. She wasn’t jaded enough. If he took her to bed, she wouldn’t just give him her body; she might give him her heart.

But he wanted her. She would be with him for days, maybe longer. How would he keep himself from taking her? He didn’t have any practice at resisting desire. This was the first time he’d ever tried not to seduce a woman. And he’d never felt a longing as powerful as this. Need for her gripped him, body and soul.

Squaring his shoulders, he went back out on the lanai. Still waiting, Rose looked up at him, looking so innocent and fresh and pretty that a tremble went through him at the thought of defiling her.

“You must be starving.” Smiling, she indicated a chair. “Coffee or tea?”

He fell heavily into his chair. “Coffee.”

“Cream or…?”

“Black,” he bit out.

Sitting in the chair beside him, poised as a Victorian lady, she gracefully poured coffee into his china cup. He grabbed it from her with a meaty fist and gulped down the hot black liquid, burning his tongue.

The pain was a welcome distraction. He knew how to deal with pain. What he did not comprehend was how to deal with his desire for her.

Rose stared at him in consternation, then cleared her throat. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

She licked her lips, and he could not look away from the vision of her moist pink tongue sliding over her full lower lip, darting to the corners of her mouth. “For chasing you out of your bed last night.”

Yes, she was to blame. But not in the way she thought. He raked his hand through his wet black hair, then shoved his coffee cup toward her on the table.

“More,” he growled. Then at her expression, he amended, “If you please.”

She poured steaming coffee from the silver coffeepot, looking impossibly lovely and old-fashioned. She was the kind of woman, Xerxes thought, that any man would want to come home to. She was the kind of woman who made a home.

Christ, what was he thinking? First he’d had images of her pregnant, now he was having ideas of coming home to her? He took another burning gulp of steaming hot coffee.

He was meant to be alone. He clenched his fingers over the china cup. He always had been and always would be. Hadn’t he learned that by now?

“Would you care for jam on your toast?” she asked him, holding out a tray with a smile.

“I want it plain.” Taking the closest piece, he shoved it into his mouth. He barely tasted it as he ripped through it with his teeth and gulped it down, wolflike.

An awkward silence fell between them. The only sound was the caw of seagulls and the pounding surf.

“So.” She took a deep breath. “Have you heard from Lars?”

“No,” he bit out. It reminded him that now he would have to trade Rose to the bastard as planned, because he hadn’t found Laetitia on his own. Once again, he’d been too late to reach her. Too late and too slow. And so he’d have to trade.

At the thought of giving Rose to any other man, Xerxes was so enraged he wanted to punch a wall. Instead, he shoved another piece of toast into his mouth.

“You must be starving,” she murmured, trying not to stare.

Xerxes wiped his mouth with his hand, staring back at her. At the pulse of her swanlike neck. At the shape of her breasts beneath the thin eyelet lace cover-up. At the curve of her slender waist. From this close space, he could smell the scent of her, like flowers and sunshine. Her hair was long and golden and wavy. Natural. As if she’d just come from making love.

As if, instead of taking a shower, he’d cleared the breakfast table with a rough swing of his arm. As if he’d ripped off her clothes and thrown her against the bare table, kissing her neck as he thrust himself inside her.

He had to resist. For once in his life, he had to do the right thing for someone else. He couldn’t seduce a woman like Rose, knowing that it would ultimately hurt her—knowing he’d still be forced to trade her back to Växborg like a used toy.

He had to resist. But still, even knowing this, his body shuddered with the effort it took not to seize her and take her like an animal, right there on the table. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to put down the remaining bits of toast he hadn’t devoured. Forcing himself to pretend, for just an instant, that he was a civilized man.

“Växborg is in Las Vegas. He will contact me as soon as the divorce is final,” he ground out. “I expect within days.”

She blinked. “A divorce can go through so fast? Even in Las Vegas?”

“An uncontested divorce in Las Vegas usually takes about two weeks. I’m using my influence to make it go more smoothly.”

“How?”

“My people are persuading every office to make this case a priority and move it to the top of the pile. It’s not difficult.”

“Of course it’s not—for you.” Looking away, she took a small sip of her creamy coffee, holding the delicate cup with light grace. “You must be desperate to see her.”

Desperate was the right word, but he did not wish to be reminded of his latest failure. “And you?” he said bitterly. “Are you desperate to be back in Växborg’s arms?”

She whirled back toward him, her blue-green eyes widening in shock. “You know I am not!”

He knew that, but Rose believed the best of people. Could she, in time, grow to forgive the baron as well? The thought made him cruel.

“You should know,” he said brutally, “that you were not the first woman he took as his lover since his marriage.”

She licked her lips. “I wasn’t?”

“He’s had five or six.”

She set her coffee cup down on the table with a trembling hand. “You must think I’m the biggest idiot in the world,” she whispered, blinking fast. “Believing Lars would actually marry anybody like me.”

Staring at her, Xerxes abruptly grabbed both of her hands in his own. The sizzle of her soft touch, of her fingers against his rough palm, was torture. Ignoring the pain of his own longing, he looked into her beautiful face.

“Anybody? You weren’t just anybody. You were the special one.” His fingers tightened over hers as he whispered, “You were the only one he wanted to keep.”

As if his touch burned her, she ripped her hands from his grasp, looking away.

“I still don’t understand what he was doing in San Francisco when we met. He told me that he’d been looking for business opportunities—” she gave a small laugh “—but I’ve never seen him work.”

Xerxes set his jaw, fighting the fury that threatened to choke him at the memory. “There’s a medical clinic an hour east of San Francisco, the best brain trauma hospital in the world. At first I thought he’d taken Laetitia there. Instead, he dumped her at an old cabin in the mountains before he went to San Francisco to try to put her family’s mansion up for sale.”

Rose blinked. “A cabin?”

“It’s old and desolate. No electricity. No running water.” Grimly, he looked away. “When I arrived, I found dying embers in the fireplace, a new blanket on the floor, an open bag of potato chips in the kitchen. But Laetitia was gone. Since then, I’ve chased rumors of her around the world, looking in one desolate clinic after another, trying to find her before Lars finally gets his wish and she dies.”

“I still can’t believe he would be so cruel.”

“You can’t?” He gave a hard, ugly laugh. “Love brings out the worst kind of self-deception.”

Rose’s turquoise eyes looked close to tears as she sucked in her breath. “You can’t still think I love him!”

He shrugged.

“What happened to you?” she said softly. “What made you so hard and cynical?”

“I just know that when people think they’re in love—” he couldn’t keep the sneer out of his voice “—they’re usually lying. Either to others, or to themselves.”

She blinked at him. “And yet you say you love her.”

Clenching his jaw, Xerxes looked away. “I won’t abandon her. I won’t leave her to die alone and be forgotten. I can’t. I won’t.”

He could see the questions in her eyes. Her body leaned toward him. But he wouldn’t allow her to get any closer. His need for her already made him too vulnerable. He could not imagine what would happen if he wanted more than just her body. If he started wanting part of her heart. If he someday wanted to actually be the good man she thought he was.

Clenching his jaw, he looked down at her.

“Laetitia was barely eighteen when Växborg married her in Las Vegas. They must have argued because she was driving back alone. My guess is that she’d already decided to leave him. Then she crashed in the desert.” His hands tightened. “For a year, I’ve tried to find her. But I feel like I’m running out of time.”

His voice choked. He looked away.

Suddenly, he felt Rose’s soft arms around him. She’d risen from her chair and now knelt before him, pulling him into her embrace without a word.

For a moment, he breathed in the scent of flowers and sunshine. He felt comforted. He felt safe, even protected. But that was ridiculous. He’d never been protected by anyone. So how could he feel so safe in the arms of this woman who was a foot shorter and half his body weight, who had no money in her bank account and no power of her own?

Except that was a lie. Rose had incredible power, a strength he’d never seen before. She made him betray himself from within. She tempted him beyond measure. Not just with her body or beauty or strength.

She made him feel…like he was home.

With an intake of breath, he closed his eyes.

“You once said everything and everyone could be bought,” she said.

His eyes flew open. “Yes.”

“So why not just pay Lars off, allow him to keep Laetitia’s fortune?”

“Reward him for what he’s done to her?” he demanded fiercely. “Allow him to profit for nearly killing her?”

Her eyes met his. “It would be the easiest thing to do.”

“I do not care about easiest. I care about right. He will not receive a single euro from me. Ever,” he bit out.

“Just as I thought,” she said with a tremulous smile. “A man of principle. But there’s one small problem.”

“And that is?”

She took a deep breath. “What if Lars changes his mind about giving up everything for me?”

Xerxes reached out to stroke her cheek. “He won’t. A man would do anything to possess a woman like you,” he whispered. “He would betray his own soul.”

She held her breath.

He started to lean toward her. Then he stopped himself, clenching his hands to his fists.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet. “I should go.”

She grabbed his arm.

“Stay,” she said, looking up at him.

“If I stay,” he said in a low voice, “I will kiss you.”

“I know.”

He looked down at her harshly. “Do you know what you’re asking me?”

“Yes.” She looked up at him, her turquoise eyes full of light as she whispered, “I want you to kiss me.”