Читать книгу 8 Magnificent Millionaires - Кэтти Уильямс, Cathy Williams - Страница 15

‘ARE you sure you wouldn’t like a hot drink?’

Liadan was wrapped up once again in her soft towelling robe, and her glance was nervous as she watched Adrian reaching for his waterproof at the back of the door. Although she hadn’t really expected him to stay the night, she still couldn’t help feeling hurt that he was leaving so abruptly after their passionate union. But she wasn’t insensitive to the fact that there had been a definite cooling in his manner towards her since he had got dressed, and now she was going through the torments of hell wondering why.

‘I need to get back. I have to work.’

Scraping his fingers through his hair, he managed a smile of sorts: a smile that barely reached the suddenly frigid depths of his unsettling brown eyes. Liadan’s hand fluttered nervously to her throat.

‘Adrian, I hope you don’t—’

‘It’s not you, Liadan. I don’t want to hurt you but if you were expecting something more…’ He shrugged his wide shoulders and grimaced. ‘To be brutal, sex is all I can offer you. I just can’t give you anything more meaningful than that. You’re a lovely girl and some day you’ll no doubt meet the right man who’ll fulfil all your expectations of love and romance…but that’s not me, sweetheart. That’s not me.’

As he turned and opened the door the wind rushed in with a vengeance, bringing with it a spray of ice-cold rain that made Liadan shiver violently beneath her inadequate robe. But it wasn’t just the freezing rain that made her blood run cold. It was the bleak, haunted look in Adrian’s eyes that was taking him even further away from her than physical distance ever could.

‘They’re beautiful, George, thank you.’

Liadan dropped her gaze to the abundant bunch of daffodils George had just presented her with. Her heart went out to the older man. As he stood in the front hall, his cap in his hand, his embarrassment was plain to see, and clearly painfully acute. Liadan had already planned on visiting him this morning to put his anxieties at rest, to assure him that she didn’t blame him in any way for what his son had done. But she hadn’t yet had the opportunity, because Adrian had had a long list of things for her to do on her return.

He obviously thought that if he kept her as busy as possible she wouldn’t have time to brood on whether she’d made the right decision to come back or not. He was wrong.

Although they’d shared the ultimate intimacy, he’d made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t to expect much else, and, although Liadan was heartsick about such a decision, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. Not when she now knew with all certainty that she loved him more than she could ever imagine loving anyone else on this earth…They had a deep connection—even if Adrian was too blind to see it. She didn’t buy that ‘all he could offer her was sex’ baloney. He was merely hiding behind that harsh assertion to prevent himself from ever being emotionally hurt again. Liadan knew that as surely as she knew her own name.

So, even now when Adrian was already laying down new ground rules as to how he expected their relationship to continue, Liadan was determined to stay put and weather the storm. Did he regret making love to her last night? The mere idea scared her senseless. If only there were some way of getting through to him, of proving to him that she would never let him down or break his heart…

She tried to convince herself that what really mattered, practically speaking, was that she still had a job and would be able to meet her mortgage payments. But she knew she’d be willing to live in a tent if it meant that she could be with the man that she loved for ever.

‘Nothing I could say or do could make it up to you, lass…for what Steven did.’ George lifted his head as though determined to face whatever punishment Liadan cared to mete out, and his pale blue eyes went strangely glassy when she merely smiled and pressed his hand warmly with her own.

‘You don’t owe me anything, George. You aren’t responsible for what your son did. He’s an adult. I certainly don’t think we should let it come between our friendship, do you?’

‘That’s very good of you, lass…more than I deserve. You know Mr Jacobs fired him, of course? I’m only grateful that he didn’t call the police, even though the stupid little bugger deserved it—pardon my language. I just wanted to reassure you that he wouldn’t be bothering you again. I’ve paid for him to go and stay with my sister Marge for a while down in Wales. Her and her husband are farmers and they’ll keep him busy, don’t you worry. He knows if he ever sets foot up here again, I’ll be the first one to call the police.’

‘All right, George. I’m sure you must have plenty of work to be getting on with—particularly now when we’re short-staffed. Liadan has work to do, too.’

Adrian walked up beside her, taking her by surprise, his tone ringing icy command and clearly expecting those commands to be instantly met. As she glanced sidelong at his formidably stern profile her stomach clenched hard at the pain of the little knot that was currently twisting her insides together.

Placing his cap back firmly on his head, George muttered, ‘I’ll be seeing you then, lass,’ and stepped rigidly back as though every inch of his body were covered in painful bruises. When he had gone, Adrian shut the doors firmly behind him, surveying Liadan with a cool regard as if the intimacy they had shared had never even taken place.

‘I’d find a vase to put those in and get on with lunch if I were you. My editor’s coming to see me this afternoon so I’m going to be pretty tied up for the rest of the day.’

Liadan had trouble swallowing down her shock and outrage—at his cavalier treatment of George as well as at the cold disdain with which he all but ordered her back to work. She felt as though she were having a bad dream. Her hands were clutching the daffodils too tightly, and her candid blue eyes couldn’t disguise her hurt and disappointment.

‘Did you have to speak to George so roughly? The poor man is obviously going through agonies over his son.’

‘The poor man’s son assaulted you in my house!’ Adrian snapped back through gritted teeth. ‘I would be perfectly within my rights to sack him too, under the circumstances!’

Unable to bite back the gasp that came to her lips, Liadan stared in disbelief. ‘You wouldn’t be so cruel, surely? George has worked here a long time and as far as I know he’s done a wonderful job. Where would he go? What would he do?’

‘That’s not my concern.’

‘Then what is your concern, Adrian, if you don’t mind my asking?’ Clutching the flowers tightly to her chest, Liadan finally couldn’t halt the flow of anger that was bubbling up inside her. The man wasn’t an automaton…he had to feel something, didn’t he? It wasn’t human not to feel anything at all. ‘All I can say is that it must be very cold in that empty place inside your chest where your heart should be. You seem to think you can protect yourself from every bit of hurt and trouble by shutting off all your feelings and emotions like a tap. But nobody can pretend not to feel things, Adrian. Not even you!’

‘I don’t have time for this pointless conversation. Just get on with your work, will you, and leave my feelings out of this?’ With a contemptuous glare that made Liadan feel as if an icy wind had just swept over her, he strode away as if the matter were completely at an end.

He hadn’t been able to concentrate on a damn thing that Lynne Scott, his editor, had said and he certainly couldn’t share in her excitement that, in her opinion, his current work in progress was going to be his biggest and most lucrative book yet. Truth to tell, Adrian had fallen completely out of love with the damned thing. When he should have been all fired up because he was so very near the graphically gruesome shock ending he’d been planning on, all he could think about was his lust for his pretty housekeeper.

Making love with Liadan had been amazing. The sexual drought he’d deliberately imposed upon himself after the messy entanglement with Petra couldn’t have been more thoroughly or satisfyingly brought to an end as it had been last night in Liadan’s cottage. Whenever Adrian closed his eyes—even briefly—all he could see were those sensuously darkened blue eyes of hers, all her feelings bruisingly laid bare as she gave herself to him over and over until he was sated.

To speak to her as coldly as he had done, to treat her almost with contempt when she had so readily jumped to George’s defence this morning, had been both despicable and unforgivable. But Adrian was still furious about that whole business with Steven Ferrers, uncontrollably enraged that Liadan had been hurt under his roof when he should have been there to protect her. Just as he should have been there to take the consequences of that explosion instead of Nicole…

Cursing out loud as he pushed out of his chair, he strode out of the room, determined to take a walk under the stars and to quell the rising sense of panic that was threatening to engulf him.

Hearing the front doors slam, Liadan paused in the task of removing her make-up. She glanced down at the slim gold wrist-watch she’d taken off and left on the edge of the sink, and saw that it was just after midnight. Didn’t the man believe in rest? Biting her lip and telling herself she must be some kind of masochist, she put down the cotton-wool pad she’d started to use and went back into the bedroom. She didn’t really know what she intended or whether she was actually going to make matters worse, but she pulled her short sheepskin jacket from the wardrobe, quickly stuck her stockinged feet into black leather loafers and hurried downstairs to the ground floor.

Bathed in moonlight, the gardens were an ethereal, magical place. As Liadan adjusted her gaze to the moonlit paths her heart raced a little as she searched for Adrian. She knew that the gardens were full of secret little places to make oneself scarce, and she realised she had a task on her hands if she was to find him. But find him she would. After his pleasant-looking editor had left, the atmosphere in the house had been as if somebody had just died. The weight of the gloom that had descended was making Liadan feel jumpy and miserable.

She might be determined to weather the storm, but how was she supposed to work when Adrian could hardly bring himself to speak to her with a civil tongue? Was he angry because he believed she might have some expectations where he was concerned? Especially now because they’d made love? Her sigh making a little cloud of her breath in the chill night air, Liadan shivered and turned up the warm collar of her jacket to ward off the cold.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing out here alone?’

‘Don’t do that! You almost gave me a heart attack!’

Her blue eyes huge, almost luminous in the moonlight, Liadan stumbled backwards in shock as Adrian came up beside her. Grabbing her arm tightly, he pulled her hard against his chest without thinking—his reaction automatic and unequivocal. Staring down into her startled face, he laughed harshly.

‘You should take better care where you wander. This garden is full of ghosts that only come out at night.’

Liadan believed him. Feeling his grip on her arm tighten with no indication that he intended releasing her any time soon, she nervously wet the seam of her lips with her tongue and tried to smile to show she wasn’t scared. Not of him or the supposed ghosts that haunted his garden.

‘I’m not scared of ghosts,’ she answered softly, a lock of red-gold hair drifting across her forehead.

‘Not even from your past?’ His warm breath fanning her cheeks, Adrian’s gaze narrowed darkly. He seemed to be searching for answers, but what answers could Liadan give him that would appease the voracious hunger in his eyes?

‘Perhaps I’ve made peace with my past? Maybe that’s what we all need to try to do so that we can move on.’

‘Easy for you to say. You’re twenty-seven years old and your face and your body are like places on maps hardly visited by life at all. Wait until you lose someone you love and you can’t bear the loss.’ His voice growing huskier, he suddenly released her and stepped away.

Feeling deathly cold, Liadan hugged her arms across her chest and tried desperately to find the words—any words—to ease his pain. He looked wretched. Wretched and haunted, and she longed for him to find some peace.

‘I came across the newspaper you had in your office the other day when I was in there. I saw that Petra Collins had retracted everything she said about—about your affair. So you see? You’re not the bad man you like to try and pretend to be.’

Adrian’s scowl was derogatory. ‘Don’t be fooled by appearances. I rang Petra and threatened her with a lawsuit if she didn’t retract her statement.’ That was what he’d been intending to do, anyway, but two minutes into the conversation he’d quickly realised that the once-vivacious actress had plenty of problems on her plate to be going on with. Adrian certainly wasn’t going to add to them with threats of any kind. She’d simply decided to retract her slander all by herself, apparently.

‘Why are you so determined to paint yourself in the blackest light possible?’ Liadan asked in frustration.

‘Did you read what else was in that report?’ Looking edgy and ready to break something, Adrian jerked his head disparagingly.

‘Yes.’ Her voice was a mere whisper floating on the breeze, her throat all but seized with tension. ‘I read that you lost the woman you loved in a terrible accident.’

‘Is that what you call the murder of an innocent woman? It was no accident, goddammit!’ His anger bounced off the air around him, hitting the walls of the house and echoing back to them. His lean, good-looking face was contorted with rage. ‘It was a terrorist bomb planted deliberately to cause maximum damage at one of the busiest times of the day! We’d had warnings that something might go off. We’d had warnings and we ignored them. I ignored them.’

‘You can’t go on blaming yourself for what happened. You were with a news team, weren’t you? They must have made up their own minds about whether it was a good idea to go ahead with your assignment, surely?’

Her quiet, reasonable voice should have soothed him. But instead all it did was press every explosive button inside him that could be pressed. Adrian saw red. ‘I thought I was indestructible. A golden boy. I was riding on the crest of my so-called brilliant career and I got carried away with the idea of my complete infallibility, my invulerability towards danger. I persuaded a young woman who I loved with all my heart that it was safe to go ahead into the embassy. Only moments before it happened she was laughing…laughing.’ He turned away from Liadan to hide the pain that shone starkly from his eyes.

‘It wasn’t your fault, please will you listen? How long must you go on blaming yourself? If anyone is to blame surely it’s the cold-blooded killers who planted such a terrible device? Adrian…do you think that your—your Nicole would want you to spend the rest of your life so racked with pain that you can’t enjoy a single moment of happiness ever again?’

Clearly wrestling with the impact of her words, Adrian turned slowly back to face her.

‘Go to bed, Liadan. It’s been a long, trying day and you must be tired.’

‘Don’t dismiss me so easily!’ Now it was her turn to be angry. He was shutting her out again. Shutting her out as surely as if a wall were being deliberately constructed, brick by brick, between them. If he was left alone, soon it would be too high for her to climb and she might never be able to reach him again. The knowledge terrified her. ‘You veer between treating me like some silly little schoolgirl with cotton wool for brains, or some foolish airhead who somehow drifts through life without a care in the world and without ever being touched by pain or sorrow or sadness! That’s a mighty dangerous assumption from a supposedly intelligent man. Even a two-year-old feels pain, Adrian—whether it’s actual, physical pain or the pain of rejection from a mother or a loved one. Without a doubt that leaves scars. So please don’t write me off as though I had no right to empathise with your sorrow. I do. If I could turn back the clock and bring Nicole back for you, I would! Do you hear me? I would!’ Her voice broke then, and tears, hot and relentless, momentarily blinded her.

He’s still in love with a ghost, Liadan thought chillingly. And he’ll never love me like I love him…Unable to stay, she turned and ran back up the path towards the house.

Adrian stood outside her room. His mind had told him to go straight to bed and forget her, but his body clearly had other ideas. Past the point of understanding any of it—his life, his work, his failure to move on in any meaningful way—all he craved right now was the temporary peace he knew he would find in Liadan’s arms. Even if she hated herself for it in the morning, he knew she wouldn’t deny him what he sought. He would hate himself for using her in that way if he didn’t despise himself enough already.

He knocked briefly, listening for sounds of life from behind the door. He told himself if she didn’t answer in the next ten seconds he would leave and go back to his room. But the door opened before he even finished the thought.

Her russet hair tumbling all around her shoulders, her blue eyes red with crying, she glanced up at him forlornly like a child who’d lost a beloved pet and didn’t understand why it had had to die.

‘Yes?’

Adrian didn’t speak. Instead he commandingly swept her up into his arms as if she weighed less than a feather and carried her to the bed. Without words, he laid her down on the white lace counterpane, then stripped off his shirt and sweater. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the bed on all fours, positioning himself above her with all the precise intention of a man who was certain that his desperate need for comfort would not be repelled—even though he no doubt deserved it to be.

Liadan’s heart was thumping so hard inside her chest that she was grateful for the fact that she was lying down. Now, staring up at Adrian as his gaze burned down at her, hotly and without tenderness or mercy, she gulped and bit down hard on her lip. She drew blood and in the next instant felt his tongue against her flesh licking it clean. The eroticism of that sexy little gesture all but paralysed Liadan, and set up such a clamouring of raw, naked lust inside her that she barely knew herself. Then, his hands settling on her shoulders, his mouth moved across hers, barely touching at first, teasing her response and stoking her desire with a ruthless expertise that right then she wanted to kill him for. He had no right, she thought a little desperately, no right at all to do this to her body and her mind, to enrapture her with delights of the flesh that she was pathetically helpless to deny.

‘I want all of you,’ he breathed against her mouth. ‘No half measures.’

‘No.’ Liadan twisted her face away only to feel her jaw captured by warm, firm fingers and brought round again. Her blue eyes went round as saucers as she looked dazedly up into his handsome face. ‘How dare you? What makes you think I want you after the way you spoke to me? Get out!’

He silenced her with a crushing, passionate kiss that obliterated the rest of her world in one fell swoop and filled her with a fire so burning hot that she thought they would both ignite. Seconds later, he raised his head to glance down at her with sardonic amusement. ‘Still want me to go?’ he asked.

Silently cursing every weak, malleable bone in her body, Liadan slid her arms up around his neck and urged him recklessly down towards her again.

‘God help me,’ she whispered brokenly as his hands shockingly ripped the front of her antique lace nightgown straight down the middle, ‘I don’t want you to go.’