Читать книгу Modern Romance October 2015 Books 1-4 - Эбби Грин, Annie West - Страница 17

CHAPTER EIGHT

HOW COULD SHE?

Erin walked to the edge of the man-made lake which dominated the sheltered grounds at the rear of the palace and stared gloomily at the gleaming water. How could she have done something so fundamentally self-destructive? She’d had sex with Dimitri. Despite knowing that it was the action of a fool, she had walked straight into it.

The sun dazzled off the glittering surface of the lake and now and then an exotic bird would swoop down to drink. These gardens were like an oasis—one of the most beautiful places she’d ever visited—yet all Erin could think about was that erotic episode on the divan yesterday, following Dimitri’s riding accident.

He’d been so matter-of-fact about it afterwards, displaying a cold-bloodedness she remembered from watching him doing countless business deals. Once that amazing bout of sex was over, he seemed to have retreated from her—physically and mentally—just like last time. He hadn’t touched her again, had just rolled over and turned his back on her and gone to sleep. And even though she’d told herself that his body was still recovering from the accident on the horse—it had only increased her feelings of mortification.

She had gone back to her own suite, feeling empty and a little bit cheap, and the long shower she’d taken afterwards hadn’t made her feel much better. But she had done her best to stay calm and tried very hard to keep herself occupied, because activity stopped her brooding and dwelling on what she’d done. She explored the palace library as Dimitri had suggested and made it her personal mission to find her way around the bewildering maze of wide marble corridors which made up the Al Mektala residence. She spent several hours being driven out into the desert—accompanied by the woman who had brought the fire-berry lotion to Dimitri’s suite, who actually turned out to be very sweet. And although she had tried to take in the stark beauty of the stark desert sands, unwanted images of Dimitri’s ice-blue eyes kept flashing through her mind.

And he hadn’t come near her. He hadn’t touched her, or kissed her. There had been no silent message which had passed between them to acknowledge their shared intimacy.

Erin kept trying to convince herself that this new stand-off was sensible. More sex would complicate an already complicated situation—she knew that. Yet she was finding his behaviour more wounding than any open hostility. He was treating her with all the polite indifference he might have shown to a passing waitress at a cocktail party. As if the man who had kissed her so passionately yesterday morning was nothing but a figment of her imagination. She found herself dressing for their final dinner at the palace with a heavy heart.

When he knocked, she opened the door to find him wearing a darker than usual suit, which made him look powerful and forbidding.

‘I’m having a final meeting with Saladin before dinner, so I’ll come back and collect you once it’s over,’ he said, his hair gleaming molten gold beneath the glittering chandelier. ‘Oh, and we will leave for London tomorrow. The jet will be ready for us in the morning. I’m sure you’ll be keen to get back.’

‘Absolutely.’ Erin was determined to match his cool demeanour even though her teeth were gritted behind her smile. ‘I’ll ring my sister.’

‘You spoke to her earlier?’

‘Yes.’

‘How’s Leo?’ he asked suddenly.

‘He’s fine.’

There was a pause. ‘He hasn’t missed you too much?’

‘It’s barely been two days.’ She hesitated, because this was the closest they’d come to conversation since they’d had sex and she found herself wanting to prolong it. To pretend that everything was normal when nothing felt normal. ‘Has the Sheikh come to any decision about selling you the oil fields?’

He finished knotting his tie—a blue silk affair one shade darker than his eyes. ‘He says he’ll give me his answer this evening. Though I suspect that is simply a formality and his answer will be yes.’

‘You sound surprised.’

‘I suppose I am—a little. After all these years of one step forward, two steps back—the deal has been much more straightforward than I ever anticipated.’

‘Because you saved his life?’

He shrugged. ‘Probably.’

She shifted from one foot to the other, aware that her composure was in danger of deserting her as the reality of returning to London loomed before her. ‘What’s going to happen when we get back?’

He lifted his dark brows in query. ‘In regard to?’

Her heart began to pound. ‘Leo, of course. About you...getting to know him.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘You would prefer it if I didn’t?’

To Erin’s horror his words struck a chord, highlighting a part of herself she didn’t like. A selfish, horrible part which made her wish he would just disappear and take with him his ability to inflict pain and hurt on her stupidly vulnerable heart. ‘No,’ she said, wondering if he could hear the hesitation in her voice. ‘That isn’t what I want, but...’

‘But? You still think I’m unsuitable? I’ve failed the Erin Turner fit-to-be-a-father test? You think I’ll be dragging him to the nearest bar or casino as soon as he’s old enough?’

She met the challenge in his eyes, reminding herself that her own feelings weren’t the issue here—but those of her son were paramount. And Dimitri needed to know that. He needed to know that she would fight with everything she possessed to protect her little boy from being hurt or disappointed.

‘No, I don’t think that,’ she said. ‘You don’t seem like that kind of man any more. But there are other considerations, Dimitri.’

‘To do with you?’

She shook her head. Did he think she was about to start clinging to him because they’d just had sex? ‘No. To do with him. I don’t want you coming into his life on a whim. You can’t just waltz in and tell him you’re his father and decide you don’t really like fatherhood—before disappearing again.’

‘So what are you suggesting?’

‘I’m just asking you to give it a little time before you tell him who you are. In case you want to walk away. I’m giving you an opt-out clause in case you change your mind.’ She held up her hand, as if anticipating his objections. ‘Because children take up a lot of time. They’re demanding. They need love and reassurance and stability—and it’s constant. You can’t just close the door on them and tell them to go away. You’ve always lived life on your terms, Dimitri—more than anyone else I’ve ever known. You might find the responsibilities of parenthood don’t suit you, and if that’s the case, then that’s fine. No one is going to condemn you for that—least of all me. I just don’t want you making promises to him. Promises you are unable to keep. Surely you can understand that?’

Their gazes clashed for a moment before he nodded his head.

‘Yes, I can understand,’ he said as he left her suite and headed towards the Sheikh’s private apartments, thinking about everything she’d said and the painful honesty with which she’d chosen her words. He was beginning to understand now that when it came to Leo, she was the one with all the power and it was rare for him to be in the weaker position. Was that why he had stayed away from her since the erotic encounter after his riding accident—because that was his way of wielding power? He had known that he could have taken her in his arms at any time and had her gasping with desire within minutes. But something had stopped him.

What was it? Something to do with the way she made him feel? As if he were some sort of jigsaw which had been scattered and she was eager to put all the pieces back together again. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want anyone reconstructing him.

The corridors were cool as he walked towards the Sheikh’s private apartments and he could see the outline of the moon beginning to appear in the still blue sky. He thought how ironic it was that for months this had been the one thing he’d wanted above all else. A deal with Saladin Al Mektala. Oil in exchange for diamonds. A foothold in the Middle East at last and a triumph to eclipse all his most recent triumphs.

But suddenly its allure seemed to have faded and all he could think about was the little boy with the golden hair and eyes so like his own. And inevitably those thoughts led back to Erin...

He was shown into a high-ceilinged room which resembled a cross between a library and a study. Oil paintings of magnificent horses lined the walls and priceless artefacts drew the eye like museum pieces. On the Sheikh’s desk was a photo of Saladin holding the prestigious Omar Cup, a gleaming chestnut stallion beside him, and Dimitri took a moment to study it.

‘That was one of my proudest moments,’ said Saladin, his deep voice breaking the silence as he emerged from the shadows of the room, his eyes following the direction of the Russian’s gaze.

‘But?’ said Dimitri, lifting his gaze from the photo and supplying the word which seemed to hang in the air, like the rich incense which scented the room.

The Sheikh’s eyes gleamed as he sat down behind the desk and indicated a chair opposite for Dimitri.

‘Victory seems irrelevant when you are forced to face your own mortality as I have had to do,’ he said heavily. ‘If it had been another man but you racing against me, I might not be here today—for the desert lands breed many enemies who would have been glad to see me disfigured, or to have perished. Who would have enjoyed seeing me fall beneath all the galloping power of those two mighty horses, knowing that I have no living heir and that all my lands would pass into the hands of a distant branch of the family.’ The king’s black eyes gleamed. ‘But then, few men other than you would have accepted my challenge to race, for all kinds of reasons.’

‘But how could I resist a challenge from a king?’ said Dimitri mockingly.

‘Even if doing so caused obvious distress to the beautiful woman accompanying you?’

For some reason it irritated Dimitri to hear Saladin describe Erin as beautiful. He had not brought her here to be gazed at and complimented by a powerful sheikh. ‘I do not live my life in accordance with the wishes of others,’ he said stiffly. ‘I act as I see fit.’

‘But your actions placed you in mortal danger.’

Dimitri shrugged. ‘To brush with death is inevitable. It is part of life itself.’

Saladin picked up a gleaming golden pen. ‘But the timing of such a brush is crucial, don’t you think? And this one especially so. It has made me re-examine my life. I wonder if it will make you do the same.’ Abruptly, he signed the thick sheet of parchment which lay before him and then looked up. ‘The oil fields are yours.’

Dimitri inclined his head. ‘Thank you.’

‘My lawyers will be in touch. But, Dimitri—’

Dimitri had been about to rise from the chair until the monarch’s unfamiliar use of his first name made him pause.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Majesty?’

The Sheikh paused, as if he was about to start speaking in a language unfamiliar to him. ‘I recognise in you someone with demons,’ he said softly. ‘The demons which seem to plague all successful men. And sometimes the only way to rid ourselves of them is to confront them without fear.’

The Sheikh’s words echoed around his head as Dimitri made his way back to his suite. It was a curiously personal remark for a king to make—especially one with the stony reputation of Saladin. Was the bond forged between them over that near-fatal race responsible for such an uncharacteristic statement, and was it true? Dimitri shut the door behind him. Were his demons still dominating his life because he had failed to reach out and confront them?

He realised that it was not just Erin’s deception which had angered him, or the powerlessness he’d felt about being presented with a fatherhood he had not chosen. It was the fear of fatherhood itself. Would his inability to love or nurture damage that laughing little boy whose life was materially poor but emotionally rich? And Saladin’s words came back to him again. Surely he had to try.

He went to Erin’s suite to take her to dinner and she looked up from the book she was reading. The gleam of the chandeliers shone on her dark hair and the claret silk dress caressed her slender body, and automatically he felt his body stiffen with desire. But desire could cloud your judgement. It could distract you from the things which really mattered—and right now he knew what mattered most.

He stared into Erin’s green eyes, knowing how incompatible their two lifestyles were. He hadn’t known precisely what it was he wanted, or how he was going to go about the daunting task of discovering fatherhood.

Until now.

The idea hit him with a sudden resolve. A primitive and bone-deep certainty, which seemed to have been inspired by Saladin’s words. It felt like a distant call to his own ancestry—yet how could that make any sense when his past was so tainted and warped?

But sometimes instinct could be stronger than reason and there was no waver in his voice as he spoke. ‘I want to take Leo to my country,’ he said.

The book slipped from her fingers.

‘You mean, to Russia?’

Something stirred deep within his heart as he nodded.

‘Da. To Russia,’ he echoed, and saw the uncertainty which clouded her face.