Читать книгу Modern Romance December 2016 Books 5-8 - Annie West - Страница 21
ОглавлениеTHIS HIGH UP, the snowy winter light was on the harsher side of bright. A penthouse apartment high in the sky—far above the streets and away from the sounds of the New York traffic. Chosen specifically for its isolation and for the fact that nobody could see you, or hear you. An apartment Rafe had never shared with anyone.
Until now.
He stared at Sophie’s back, silhouetted against the Manhattan skyline as she watched the ant-like people far below. His home, his space, his life. A fortress of a place which up until now had always been inviolate. People came here rarely because hospitality on home turf had never been his thing. He preferred to take people out to dinner, rather than be stuck with guests who wouldn’t take the hint and go home. The same with lovers, too. Not for him the awkward morning ritual of trying to remove a woman who wanted to stay.
Why had he invited Sophie here? He ran his gaze over the gleam of her bare legs. Because he felt partly responsible for the arrival of the press in the Cotswolds? Yes. And the sexual chemistry between them had been an added incentive. Why turn his back on a physical compatibility which was as good as theirs? But it was more than that. He’d confided in her. Told her stuff he’d never told anyone else. Stuff which had stirred up feelings inside him which had left a raw and gaping void. He’d thought exposing his secrets would make the darkness go away, but he had been wrong. He told himself he just needed time. And that maybe having Sophie here with him was nothing but an insurance policy. A charm offensive to get her onside and make sure she kept those secrets close to her heart.
He acknowledged another stir of lust as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. This morning she was wearing one of his shirts which came to just below her bottom as she surveyed the cityscape. One hand was planted on her hips as she watched the snow tumbling towards the city streets. It was a pose designed to show off her long legs to their best advantage—something he suspected she knew very well, despite her relative inexperience. But she was a fast learner, he thought approvingly. She’d learnt to remove her clothes and tantalise him better than any of those high-class strippers he knew rich out-of-towners visited down on Midtown West.
His groin throbbed with a relentless beat as he walked over to her and slid his arms around her waist, lifting aside the still-damp curtain of dark hair to plant a lingering kiss at the base of her neck.
‘Good swim?’ he murmured.
‘Fifty lengths—and all I had to do was take the elevator.’
‘That’s the beauty of having a pool in the basement.’
‘Yes. Rafe,’ she added indistinctly as he cupped his hands over her breasts and began to massage them through the cotton of her shirt. ‘You do realise I’m standing in front of the window?’
‘I do. And you’re nineteen floors up.’
‘Somebody might have a pair of binoculars.’
‘The glass is mirror-coated,’ he said, moving one hand down. ‘Which means nobody gets to see—although, if it turns you on, you can always pretend someone is watching me slide my hand down between your legs and easing you open like this.’
‘You are...’ she gasped as he slipped his finger inside her ‘...incorrigible.’
‘Am I?’ He moved his finger against her, loving the way her head fell helplessly back against him, the scent of her sex heavy in the air as he brought her to a shuddering climax right where she stood. He felt the buckling of her knees as she slumped back against him and thought about carrying her over to the sofa. But she was nothing if not surprising because she quickly gained her equilibrium and turned around, her face flushed and a small smile on her lips as she ran the flat of her palm experimentally over his groin.
‘Oh,’ she said, digging her teeth into her bottom lip almost shyly as she explored the hard and throbbing ridge covered by the denim of his jeans. ‘I see. You are a very excitable man, aren’t you, Rafe Carter?’
He gave a low and exultant laugh. ‘Is that what I am?’
‘Among other things.’
The rasp of his zip sliding down was the only sound other than his ragged breathing as she sank to her knees in front of him and teased him with her fingers, before putting the moist tip against her lips.
‘Sophie,’ he groaned as her tongue gave a playful lick.
Sophie lowered her lips onto him, loving the sensation of sucking this most intimate part of him. She liked having the silken thickness of him deep in her mouth, just as she liked tasting that first salty bead of moisture which showed he was close to climax. He’d taught her so much. About her body. About his. Sometimes she wished she could grab hold of time and freeze it because the clock was ticking down towards Christmas and once the holiday was over, she’d be far away from here. From him.
But her thoughts were forgotten as his hands clamped around her head and his fingers dug into her scalp as his excitement grew. She could feel him tense and hear that distinctive choking sound he made, just as he flooded her mouth and she drank him in.
She opened her eyes and looked up to find him staring at her and she slid her tongue slowly over her lips, which were still sticky with his salty essence. His eyes darkened but his hands were gentle as he pulled her to her feet and led her into the huge wet room adjoining his bedroom, where he turned on the warm jets of the shower.
‘Where do you want to go for lunch?’ he questioned, slicking thick soapy foam over her body.
‘I’d love to go to that lovely restaurant in Gramercy again.’
‘Then that’s where we’ll go.’
‘Won’t you need to book?’
His smile was wolfish as he sluiced suds from her skin, paying specially close attention to her thrusting nipples. ‘I never need to book.’
Overlooking a snowy courtyard garden, the restaurant was exquisite and afterwards they went to an art gallery in Chelsea where a friend of Rafe’s was exhibiting his sculptures. Sophie drank champagne and chatted with the artist and decided she liked New York, a city where it was possible to blend in and lose yourself. She liked it nearly as much as Poonbarra. Her heart missed a beat. The two places which had felt most like home had one thing in common.
Him.
She glanced across the gallery, where Rafe was standing studying a sculpture, his thumb rubbing thoughtfully at his chin while close by a striking-looking blonde in a mulberry-coloured velvet coat was trying to catch his eye.
Sophie thought about how it would be once she had returned to Isolaverde. That one day soon, this blonde—or someone like her—wouldn’t just be chatting to Rafe about a marble figure, but would be accompanying him back to his gorgeous penthouse, to do to him what Sophie had been doing earlier. A sickening image sprang to her mind—of somebody else unzipping his jeans. Somebody else taking him so intimately into her mouth...
Sophie’s heart clenched as she put her glass down on the tray of a passing waitress and waited for the feeling to pass. But these pangs of longing and possession had been getting more and more frequent as the days had ticked by. Was it sexual jealousy she was experiencing, or something else? Something she was too scared to acknowledge because it was as futile as expecting the sun to rise at midnight. That her feelings for Rafe were becoming more complicated than either of them would ever have anticipated.
Far more than he would ever have wanted.
She wondered if he’d noticed her attitude towards him softening, or whether she’d managed successfully to hide her growing feelings. She suspected he would push her away if he got an inkling she’d started to care for him in a way he had warned her against, right from the start.
She tried to pinpoint when her attitude had slid from lust into tenderness and then into a wistful longing for a future which could never be hers. Was it when he’d protected her from the press and continued to protect her, here in his adopted city? Or when he’d made love to her and shown her that sex could be about tenderness as well as hot, hard passion? She swallowed.
No. She knew exactly when it had been. When he’d opened up his heart and told her about the baby he’d lost and she’d seen the raw pain on his face and heard the bitter heartbreak in his voice. In that moment he had revealed a vulnerability she’d never associated with a man like him, and that had changed everything. And she didn’t want it to change.
Because she couldn’t afford to fall in love with Rafe Carter.
* * *
On Christmas morning, Sophie woke first—slipping from the bed and disappearing into one of the dressing rooms before starting to busy herself in the kitchen. She gave a smile of satisfaction as she cracked the first eggshell against the side of the bowl. Six months ago and she hadn’t known one end of a frying pan from the other and now she made the best omelette in Manhattan. Well, that was what Rafe said. She was humming beneath her breath when he came out of the bedroom in just a pair of boxers, the hand which had been raking back his mussed hair suddenly stilling.
He ran his gaze over her. ‘Sweet heaven. What’s this?’
She did a twirl. ‘You don’t like it?’
Rafe felt a shaft of lust arrowing down to his groin. She was like every male fantasy come to life and standing in front of him, wearing a short baby-doll nightdress in scarlet silk, trimmed with fake white fur. The tiny matching knickers—which showed as she moved—were the same bright red and a Santa hat was crammed down over her dark hair. ‘Santa, baby,’ he murmured. ‘Come here.’
‘It’s my Christmas present to you,’ she said, walking over to loop her arms around his neck. ‘Because I couldn’t think what else to get you. The man who has everything.’
‘Best gift I’ve ever had,’ he said unevenly. ‘Which I’m now about to unwrap.’
The eggs were cold by the time they got around to eating them and afterwards they walked through the snow to Central Park, going by Grand Army Plaza and ending up in Bryant Park. Sophie’s cheeks were glowing by the time they got back and Rafe made steak and salad. They ate their meal beside the tiny Christmas tree they’d put together with decorations bought from Bergdorf Goodman And when they’d cleared away the dishes, he handed her a curved package, wrapped in holly-covered paper.
‘Happy Christmas, Sophie,’ he said.
Her fingers were trembling as she opened it and, even though it was probably the most inexpensive gift she’d ever been given, she couldn’t remember receiving anything which had given her quite so much pleasure. It was a snow globe. A miniature version of the Rockefeller Christmas tree, which he’d taken her to see the moment his jet had touched down in the city. She shook it and the rainbow sparkle was momentarily obscured by the thick white swirl of flakes.
‘Oh, Rafe,’ she said, trying not to let emotion creep into her voice. ‘It’s...beautiful.’
‘To remind you of New York,’ he said. ‘When you’re back in Isolaverde.’
‘Yes.’
The word fell between them like a heavy stone. What was it going to be like? she wondered and now the pain in her heart was very sharp. It wasn’t settling back into life as a princess after all this that she was worried about—it was the thought of not having Rafe which was making her feel so utterly wretched. She tried to imagine waking up in the morning and him not there beside her and she thought how quickly you could get used to something, which had been the very best thing in your life.
‘Have you considered what you’re going to do?’ His question cut into her troubled thoughts. ‘Are you going to be content spending your days cutting ribbons and pulling curtains away from little bronze plaques?’
‘No. I’ve realised that things are going to have to be different.’ She forced herself to think about her royal life. A life which was a whole world away. ‘I don’t just want to be a royal clothes horse any more. I want to do more behind-the-scenes work with my charities, and I’m going to have to work out some kind of satisfactory role for myself.’
‘That’s the professional Sophie talking,’ he said. ‘But what about the personal one?’
She stared at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? Has what happened with Luc scarred you? Or do you want to meet someone one day and marry them, and have children of your own?’
She shifted her position on the sofa, flinching as if he had scraped his fingernails over an open wound. She realised that nobody had ever asked her such a bluntly personal question before because nobody would ever have dared. And somehow his words got to her. They made her want the impossible and the resulting pain was so deep that she spoke straight from the heart.
‘Of course I want that. Most women do,’ she admitted quietly, her cheeks colouring a little, because she realised there was only one man she wanted to do that with and he was right in front of her. ‘But there are all kinds of obstacles to that happening so it’s unlikely I’ll ever get it.’
‘What kind of obstacles?’
She chose her words carefully. ‘Well, meeting a man is fraught with difficulties. It would really only work if I married someone suitable and the pool of eligible princes isn’t exactly big.’ She could feel her skin colouring as she stared at the tumbling snowflakes outside the window. ‘Anyway, that’s all in the future, which starts tomorrow. Because tomorrow’s Boxing Day and while I’m heading for the Mediterranean, you’ll be hurtling down the side of some snow-covered mountain in Vermont. Lucky you. You hadn’t forgotten, had you?’
‘No, I hadn’t forgotten,’ he said, turning her face towards his so that his silver gaze was on a collision course with hers. ‘But right now, the thought of skiing is less appealing than taking you back to bed for the rest of the day.’
‘Making the most of the few hours we have left, you mean?’ she questioned brightly.
‘No. Not just that.’
His voice had hardened and Sophie screwed up her nose in confusion. ‘What, then?’
Rafe shook his head. He’d tried to blot it out. To make like it didn’t matter, but he was discovering that this new yearning deep inside him did matter. And maybe it would always matter unless he did something about it. So do it. Do it now. He cleared his throat. ‘What if I came up with an alternative solution? Something which meant you wouldn’t have to go back to your old life. A solution which might suit both our...needs?’
She stared at him. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Then hear me out.’ He paused. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking. In fact, a lot of thinking. About something Ambrose said to me at the christening.’
He met the question in her blue eyes as the enormity of what he was about to do hit him and his heart clenched with something like pain as he realised he was on the verge of doing what he’d spent his life trying to avoid. But even the fear wasn’t enough to stop him. He remembered holding his little nephew. The warmth and milky smell of him. The curly hair which had brushed against his cheek. Most of all, he remembered the sudden rush of yearning which had flooded through him and the realisation that having a child would be the only way he could heal the scars of his past. ‘My father asked who I was going to leave my fortune to and I told him that I was planning for it to go to charity,’ he said. ‘But in that moment I realised that I wanted what I’d never had.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered.
There was another pause before he said it. Words he knew would create a line in the sand which he could never step back from.
‘A family,’ he said. ‘A real family.’
She leaned forward, her hand reaching out to take one of his. ‘Tell me,’ she whispered.
And suddenly Rafe needed no prompting. He felt her fingers curling around his. Heard the loud beat of his heart. And the words just came tumbling out. ‘Although come from a big family, I grew up not knowing my brothers or sister. My father kicked my mother out because of her behaviour and as a consequence, she and I were estranged from the rest of the Carter clan for years.’
‘Because of her behaviour?’
His mouth twisted. ‘Just how open-minded are you prepared to be, Sophie? How easily do you shock? My mother liked men. She liked them a lot. More than anything else.’ There was a pause and his mouth flattened. ‘Much more than me.’
‘Oh, Rafe.’
He shook his head to silence her. ‘After her divorce, she wasn’t looking for a replacement husband because her divorce payment had set her up very nicely. Her idea of fun was having the freedom to ensnare some hot young lover.’
She nodded, as if she was absorbing his words. ‘And what happened to you, while she was doing that?’
He shrugged. ‘I used to sit alone in hotel suites,’ he said. ‘Watching as she appeared in the tightest dress she could get away with—usually with her second or third martini in her hand. Sometimes she would come back that night, but often she didn’t rock up until the morning. I can’t count the number of strange men I encountered the next day amid the empty champagne bottles and cigarette butts.’ His words grew reflective. ‘Most kids hate being sent away to boarding school, but you know something? I loved it because it was safe and ordered and structured. It was the holidays I dreaded.’
‘Of course you did,’ she said, her gaze meeting his. ‘But why are you telling me all this?’
He didn’t look away, just stared straight into her bright, blue eyes. ‘Because when I held Nick and Molly’s little boy in my arms, I realised what I’d been missing. I realised I wanted what I’d never had. A family of my own.’ His voice deepened. ‘And I think I could have one with you.’
Sophie’s heart began to pound, not sure whether to feel elated or confused. Dared she hope that his feelings had been changing, too? Was he hinting at the kind of future she had secretly started to wish for? Oh, please, she prayed. Please. ‘Me?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, you. You told me you’d like a family one day, well, so would I. You told me all the reasons that might not happen and I’m giving you all the reasons why it could. I can’t offer you love, but maybe that isn’t necessary since you are obviously a pragmatic woman. You told me you didn’t love Luc but you obviously recognise that arranged marriages can and do work.’
‘Did you say marriage?’ she echoed cautiously.
‘I did,’ he agreed, and now his voice deepened. ‘Because I can’t see that it could happen any other way.’
‘You would marry me simply to achieve your dream of having a family?’
‘Your dream, too,’ he pointed out. ‘And no, not just that. There are plenty of other reasons why it could work. We are compatible in many ways, Sophie—you know we are.’
Sophie was so appalled by how badly wrong she’d got it. She’d been thinking about love and clearly he was focussed on sex. ‘In bed, you mean?’
‘Yes, in bed. I have never wanted a woman as much as I want you. I only have to look at you to...well, you know what happens to me when I look at you.’ He smiled. ‘But this is about more than sex. You don’t bore me or rely on me to entertain you. And if you agree to marry me, I will promise to be faithful to you—of that I give you my vow. To be a good husband and a good father to our children. To support you in whatever you want to do.’ His eyes were as bright as quicksilver as they burned into her. ‘So what do you say? Will you be my wife, Sophie?’
It was a big question and Sophie knew the importance of taking your time with big questions, just as she knew you should never let your expression give away what was going on inside your head. She’d often thought a royal upbringing would have been great preparation for a career as a professional poker player and, although she’d never been remotely tempted by gambling, she was able to draw on those skills now.
So she hid her bitter disappointment that there had been no breakthrough in Rafe’s emotions. Was she deluded enough to think he’d started to care for her, just because her own feelings had started to change? Hadn’t he told her right from the start that he didn’t do love? Now she knew more about him, she could see why. She could understand his trust issues and the reason why he’d never settled down. His childhood sounded grim and the cushion of his parents’ wealth had probably made it worse. If he’d been abandoned by his mother and left to fend for himself in some grimy tenement block, the authorities would have stepped in and acted. But in the protected air-conditioned world of the luxury hotel suite, nobody would have even known.
And then there had been another betrayal—an even greater one, by Sharla. Wouldn’t a child of his own help him get over that terrible loss?
She looked into his grey eyes. He had vowed to be faithful and she believed him. He wouldn’t do what Luc had done and lose his heart to someone else. During his own childhood, he’d seen the devastation that infidelity could wreak and he wouldn’t want to replicate that. He’d never had a chance to create a family unit of his own and yet that was what he yearned for above all else. This powerful man with so much wealth at his disposal wanted nothing more than a baby.
And so did she.
His baby.
Why shouldn’t an arranged marriage work? Some people considered romantic love to be an unrealistic ideal and maybe they were right. The marriage of her own parents had been arranged, and theirs had been a long and happy union. Why couldn’t she have that with Rafe—and all the things which went with it? The companionship and the sex, and the feeling safe. Better no love than pretend love, surely? And sometimes love could grow...
She looked at him. ‘But what would I do—as your wife?’
His grey eyes gleamed. ‘You can do what the hell you want, Sophie. Just think about what you achieved on Poonbarra.’
‘You mean I progressed from being unable to recognise a tin-opener to making a pie which apparently you described to Andy as “ordinary”?’
He laughed. ‘He wasn’t supposed to tell you that. I just don’t like pie. But you’re capable of anything you want to be.’
And it was that which swung it for Sophie. It was the same feeling which had come over her when she’d looked up at the stars, on that ocean-going yacht travelling out to Australia. That same sense of wonder and, yes...hope. It was the most empowering thing anyone had ever said to her and she could hear the ring of sincerity in his voice.
‘Then yes, I’ll marry you,’ she said, in a low voice. ‘And have a family with you and be faithful and true to you. Because I think you’re right. I think we are compatible in many ways.’
He looked down into her face. ‘We will make a good life together, Sophie,’ he said. ‘I promise you that.’
The effect of his smile made her emotions dip and wobble. And too much emotion was dangerous. She needed to remember that. This was only going to work if she kept it real. So she sucked in a deep breath and gave a cool smile. ‘Yes, we will,’ she said.
‘Now, isn’t it customary to seal an engagement with a kiss?’ He pulled her into his arms, his mouth hovering close to hers. ‘And then to buy a ring worthy of a princess?’
She brushed an admonitory finger over his lips, even though her body had begun to prickle with anticipation. ‘Not quite so fast. The ring we can deal with but there’s a protocol to marrying someone like me. Before we do anything, you’re going to have to come to Isolaverde and ask my brother for his permission.’
