Читать книгу Modern Romance February Books 5-8 - Jane Porter, Annie West - Страница 18

SLAMMING HER BOOK SHUT, Teddie tossed it to the end of her bed.

It was a romantic novel, with a heroine she really liked and a hero she currently hated. She’d been trying to read for the last half-hour, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate on the words. Other more vivid, more significant words kept ping-ponging from one side of her head to the other.

She could practically hear Aristo’s voice, feel the intense, frustrated focus of his dark gaze, smell the scent he wore on her own skin—even though she’d showered, his phantom presence was still flooding her senses. Her heart was suddenly beating too fast.

The walk back to the boat had seemed never-ending. She had half expected him to follow her, if only to have the last word. Then she’d been scared that he’d wait and make his own way back, leaving her to somehow explain his absence to Dinos.

But she needn’t have worried on either count. He had turned up perhaps five minutes after her and seamlessly picked up where he’d left off earlier in the day, engaging Dinos in conversation about his day’s catch.

Back at the villa, their son’s innocent chatter had been a welcome distraction, but the whole time she’d been dreading the moment when they would be alone again.

Only, again she needn’t have worried, for Aristo had politely excused himself after kissing George goodnight.

And she should have been pleased—grateful, even—that he had finally got the message. Instead, though, she had felt oddly disappointed and, lying here now, she still couldn’t shift the sense of loss that had been threatening to overwhelm her since she’d turned and walked away from him at the temple.

Rolling on to her side, Teddie leaned over and switched off the light, reaching inside herself for a switch that might just as easily switch off her troubled thoughts.

But her brain stayed stubbornly alert.

Perhaps she should close the shutters.

Normally she only shut the muslin curtains, liking the way the pale pink early-morning light filtered softly through them at daybreak. But tonight the room felt both too large and yet claustrophobic, and she knew closing the shutters would only add to the darkness already inside her head.

Besides the temperature had risen vertiginously during the afternoon, and she wasn’t prepared to shut out the occasional whisper of cool sea air.

It hardly seemed possible that only this morning she had made peace with herself, accepting that the sexual longing she felt for Aristo was not shameful in any way, nor something she would come to regret. That it just was and there was no point in questioning it or fighting it.

But, although she was willing to give in to the temptation of a sexual relationship with Aristo, marriage was something she was going to continue resisting. She’d spent too long dealing with the chaos and devastation caused by the men in her life to let it happen again to her or her son.

Gazing at the moonlight through the curtains, she felt her heart contract. Maybe a fling wasn’t what she would chosen if she could have had exactly what she wanted. But, as she’d already told him, she couldn’t have that, and right now it was enough. All she wanted to do was live each minute as fully as possible until the inevitable moment of their separation when they returned to New York.

And it could have worked—only, typically of Aristo, he’d had to push for more—

Her stomach muscles tensed, frustration slicing through her. Nothing was ever good enough for him. He had a beautiful home in one of the most vibrant, exciting cities in the world, another in Athens, this mythically beautiful island and who knew how many other properties scattered across the globe? He owned a string of hotels and resorts and could probably retire now. But she knew he would never stop, that there would always be something driving him onwards, chasing him to the next goal.

Right now it was getting Teddie to marry him. And if she agreed to that then it would be something else.

Why couldn’t he have left things as they were? Why couldn’t he have just enjoyed the absence of complication in this new version of their old relationship? What was so wrong with allowing things to remain simple for just a few more days?

She didn’t understand why he couldn’t be satisfied, and she was tired of not understanding. Suddenly and intensely she wanted to talk to him.

Swinging out of bed, she snatched up a thin robe, pushing her arms into the sleeves as she walked determinedly across her bedroom. But when she reached the door she stopped, the rush of frustration and fury that had propelled her out of bed fading as quickly as it had arisen.

Did she really want to have this conversation now?

No. Only, how could she not?

Maybe he wasn’t her husband any more, but she was going to have to deal with Aristo on a regular basis—and how would that ever work if she allowed the issue of remarrying to sit unquestioned, unanswered between them?

Knowing Aristo as she did, he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. So why not take the fight to him?

Heart thumping, she opened the door and walked purposefully out into the softly lit hallway. But before she had gone even a couple of paces her feet faltered and she came to an abrupt standstill, her pulse beating violently against her throat as though it was trying to leap to freedom.

Aristo was sitting on the floor, his long legs stretched out in front of him and blocking her way. As she stared down at him in stunned silence his dark gaze lifted to her face, and instantly she felt her shoulders stiffen and her heart begin to beat even faster.

‘What are you doing?’ she said hoarsely.

Holding her breath, she watched as he got to his feet in one smooth movement.

He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t sleep. So I got up to do some work, only I just couldn’t seem to concentrate.’ He looked up at her, his mouth curving crookedly. ‘This may come as a surprise to you, but apparently everything isn’t ultimately about business after all.’

She recognised her own words, but they sounded different when spoken by him. Less like an accusation, more self-deprecating. But even if that was true, she knew he was probably just trying a new tactic.

‘So…what? You thought you’d stretch your legs instead?’ she said, glancing pointedly at his long limbs, her green eyes wide and challenging. ‘What do you want, Aristo?’

His gaze didn’t shift. ‘I want to talk to you. I was going to knock on your door.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘Your light was off. I thought you must be asleep.’

She hesitated, then shook her head. ‘I couldn’t sleep either. Actually, I wanted to talk too. I was coming to find you.’

Aristo felt his chest tighten.

Watching Teddie practically sprint away from the temple, he’d had to summon up every atom of willpower to stop himself from chasing after her and demanding that she agree to what was clearly the only possible course of action open to them. Despite his frustration at the relentless circular dynamics of their relationship, and her stubborn, illogical opposition, he’d held back.

He’d felt too angry. Not the cold, disbelieving anger he’d felt four years ago, when he’d returned to their apartment to find her gone, or even the gnawing, twisting fury at learning he was father to a three-year-old he’d never met.

No, his anger had been hot and tangled with fear—an explicable fear, not new but still nameless—and that had angered him further because he couldn’t control what he didn’t understand. He’d known that he needed time to cool off, so he’d forced himself to stand and watch her disappear, to wait until his heart beat more steadily. And then back at the villa, he’d made himself turn in before her.

Of course he hadn’t been able to sleep. His room still resonated with her presence from the night before. But even if it hadn’t, he would have been incapable of thinking about anything but her.

And it wasn’t just about the sex.

In a lot of ways that would have been easier, more straightforward. He gritted his teeth. But then nothing about Teddie was straightforward. She was an impossible to solve magic trick—thrilling and compelling and mystifying.

Look at her now. She might say she wanted to talk, but the expression on her face was an almost perfect hybrid of defiance and doubt, and he could sense that she was holding her body ready. Maybe ready to fight but, knowing Teddie, more likely ready to flee.

He felt the muscles of his face contract. He didn’t want to fight with her any more, and he certainly didn’t want to make her run.

Only, they couldn’t just stand here in the darkness for ever.

‘I don’t want to force this…’ He spoke carefully, willing her to hear his words as an invitation, not a trap. ‘So I’m going to go downstairs and sit by the pool. If you want to join me that’s great, and if not then I’ll see you in the morning.’

Outside, the air was slightly cooler and he breathed in deeply, trying to calm the thundering of his heart. Had he said enough to reassure her that they could survive this conversation?

He wasn’t sure, and as the silence stretched out into the night he was on the verge of turning and walking back into the villa. Then he saw her walking stiffly out onto the deck.

She stopped in front of him, close enough that he could see her eyes were the same colour as the wild pines that grew in the centre of the island, but not so close that she couldn’t bolt back into the darkness.

‘I don’t want to argue,’ he said after a moment.

She held his gaze. ‘And you’re saying I do?’

He held up his hands. ‘No—that’s not what I meant. Look, Teddie, I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just trying to fix this.’

‘Fix what?’ She glanced up at him, and then away into the darkness. ‘Me? Us? Because I don’t need fixing, thank you very much, and there is no us.’

‘So what was last night about?’

‘Last night was about sex, Aristo.’

‘Not sex—passion,’ he said softly.

‘Whatever! It’s just chemistry, pheromones.’ She made her voice sound casual, even though her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hand. ‘That’s all.’

‘That’s all?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You think last night was run of the mill?’

‘No, of course not.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not saying what we have isn’t special. I know it is—that’s why we’ve got this arrangement. So can’t we just enjoy it? Do we have to keep talking about marriage?’

A muscle flickered in his jawline. ‘Yes, we do. This “arrangement” works here, but it’s not practical long-term.’

‘Practical?’ She took a deep breath. ‘I thought we were talking about passion, not putting up some bookshelves.’

He gazed at her steadily, but she saw something flare in his dark eyes.

‘So how do you see it working, then, Teddie? Is it going to be sex in the afternoons, when George is at school? Are we going to have to get up early and move beds every time one of us sleeps over?’ His lip curled. ‘But I’m guessing you don’t even have a spare bed, so what will happen? Are you expecting me to sleep on the sofa?’

Her hands clenched into fists. ‘That’s the point. I’m not expecting anything. And you shouldn’t expect anything from me—particularly marriage.’

She might as well not have spoken. Even as she watched him searching through that handsome head of his for some new line of attack he was already speaking.

‘You told me you wanted us to be honest with one another.’

Heart pounding, she stared at him in mute frustration. ‘So be honest! What you really want from me is sex, but you need me to be your wife because you want a wife.’

‘Not just a wife. I want you.’

She shook her head. ‘You don’t want me—not really.’

‘I know you don’t believe that.’

‘You don’t know anything about me,’ she snapped. She was starting to feel cornered, hemmed in by his refusal to see anything except from his own point of view. ‘And what’s more you don’t want to know.’

Watching his jaw tighten, she knew that he was biting down on his temper.

‘That’s not true.’

‘Yes, it is. You have this idea of what a wife should be, and I’m not it, Aristo.’ She took a breath, trying to stay calm. ‘Please don’t bother trying to pretend I’m wrong. There’s no point. I know I’m not enough. I’ve known that since I was five years old—’

She broke off, startled not just by the stunned look on Aristo’s face but by the words she’d spoken out loud, for up until now her the subject of her father had always been a conversational no-go area.

‘What are you talking about?’ he said slowly.

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, frightened by what she might say next. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said finally. ‘Just a sad little story you don’t want to hear.’

His heart in his mouth, fearful of losing her but more fearful of chasing her away, he watched her walk into the darkness, counting slowly to ten inside his head before following her.

She was sitting by the pool, head lowered, feet dangling into the water.

‘I do want to hear it. I want to hear everything.’

The beams from the underwater lights lit up her fine features as though she was standing on a stage, about to perform a monologue—which she was, in a way, he thought, watching her slim shoulders rise and fall in time with her breathing.

There was a tight little pause, and then she said quietly, ‘The first time my dad left I didn’t miss him. I was too young—just a baby. He came back when I was about George’s age, maybe a bit older.’

She lifted her face and his breathing stilled at the expression on her face. She looked just as he imagined she would have done as a little girl, just like George had looked when he’d told him that he was his father—solemn and shy, eyes wide with wonder.

‘What happened?’ He made himself ask the question but he already knew the answer. He could see it in the pulse beating savagely in her throat.

‘He stayed long enough that I minded when he left, which was when I was about five. And then again when I was eight, then nine.’

She looked up at him briefly and he nodded, for he had no idea what to say.

‘He was always chasing some get-rich-quick scheme, making promises he couldn’t keep, borrowing money he couldn’t pay back, gambling the money he did have on the horses. And sometimes he’d get out a pack of cards and teach me a trick. He was good—he probably could have made a career out of magic—but he liked taking risks and that’s what he did when I was fourteen. He pretended to be a lawyer and got caught trying to con some widow out of her life savings.’

She looked away, and Aristo could tell that she was fighting to stay calm.

‘I think he’d been lucky up until then. He was so handsome and charming he could usually get away with most things. But maybe his luck had run out or his charm couldn’t hide all his lies any more. Anyway, he got sent to prison for eight years.’

Her eyes met his and she gave him a small, bleak smile that felt like a blade slicing into his skin.

This time he couldn’t stay silent. ‘I’m so sorry… I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.’

Nor had he ever tried. Of course he hadn’t known the full story, but he had been too wrapped up in his own fears and doubts to consider it.

He’d sensed a wariness in her but, looking back, he knew that each time she’d hesitated he had simply ignored the signs and used his charm to convince her—just like he’d done in Vegas.

‘Do you know what’s the really sad part? Him being in prison was okay. It was actually better than how it was when he normally disappeared. You see, it was the first time I actually knew where he was. And he was pleased to see me, and that had hardly ever happened before. Usually he was distracted by some stupid scam.’

And then she’d met him, Aristo thought, swallowing, feeling shame burning his throat. A man who had brought her to a tall tower in a strange city, showered her with gifts and promises he hadn’t known how to keep, then neglected her—not for some stupid scam, but for the infinitely more important and pressing business of building an empire.

No wonder she found it so difficult to trust. Her father had laid the foundations and he had unthinkingly reinforced her reasons to feel that way.

‘I don’t know how you survive something like that,’ he said quietly. Except Teddie hadn’t just survived. She’d faced insurmountable obstacles and triumphed.

She shrugged. ‘It got worse before it got better. My mum lost it—big-time. I kept having to stay home to take care of her so my school got involved, and then I had to go and live with foster parents. Only, we weren’t a good fit and I kept running away, so basically I ended up in care.’

Teddie swallowed. She couldn’t look at him, not wanting to see the diffidence or, worse, the pity in his eyes.

‘It wasn’t all bad, though. That’s where I met Elliot,’ she said defiantly.

‘Teddie…’

She tried to block the softness in his voice, but then she felt his hand on hers.

‘Don’t be nice to me.’

She pushed him away. If he touched her she would be lost, but he was taking her hand again, wrapping his fingers around hers, and she was leaning into him, closing her eyes against the tears.

‘I don’t want your pity.’

‘Pity? I don’t pity you.’

He lifted her chin and, looking into his fierce, narrowed gaze, she knew that he was telling the truth.

‘I’m in awe of you.’

She bit her lip, stunned by his words. Four years ago she’d thought that hearing the truth would give him a bulletproof reason to walk away, and yet he was here, holding her close, his heartbeat beating in time to hers.

‘I should have told you the truth before. But I thought you’d get bored with me before then.’

He shook his head, clearly baffled. ‘Bored! Yeah, you’re right—I can understand why you thought that might happen.’ When she didn’t respond, he frowned. ‘Seriously?’ he said softly. ‘Don’t you know how smitten I was?’

Her heart gave a thump; her eyes slid away from his. ‘It was all so quick…and I guess you weren’t really my type.’

His eyes looked directly into hers. ‘You had a type?’

‘Yes—no. I just meant the other men I dated weren’t like you.’

Her cheeks felt hot. How could she explain his beauty, his aloofness, the compelling polished charm of a man born to achieve?

‘They were scruffy guys I met in bars. You didn’t even look at the bill before you paid it.’

The faint flush of colour on her cheeks as much as her words did something to soothe her remark about him not being her type, but he was still trying to understand why she thought he would have got bored with her.

There was a drawn-out silence. Teddie could feel the curiosity behind his gaze, but it was hard to shape her thoughts, much less articulate them out loud.

‘It wasn’t about you really—it was me. Even before we got married I felt like an imposter. And then when I moved into the apartment I panicked. It felt like when I was child, with my dad. I just couldn’t seem to hold you—you were so focused on work.’

‘Too focused.’

He breathed out unsteadily, knowing now how difficult it would have been for her to admit how vulnerable she was—how difficult it must still be.

‘You’re an incredible person, Teddie, and your father was a fool not to see that. You deserved better than him.’

He brushed his lips against her forehead, the gentleness of his touch making her melt inside.

‘You deserved better than me.’

Reaching up, she rested the back of her hand against the rough stubble of his cheek and his arm tightened around her.

‘I never meant to hurt you,’ he said. ‘I just wanted it to be different with you.’

‘Different from what?’ she asked.

He frowned. It was the first time he’d ever spoken those words out loud. The first time he’d really acknowledged his half-realised thoughts to himself.

‘From what I imagined, I suppose.’

She glanced down into the pool and then back up to his face, her expression suddenly intent. ‘What did you imagine?’

He hesitated, his pulse accelerating, but then he remembered her quiet courage in revealing her own painful memories and suddenly it was easier to speak. ‘My parents’ marriage.’

Her green eyes were clear and gentle. ‘I thought you said it was civilised?’

His mouth twisted. ‘The divorce was civilised—mainly because they had nothing to do with it. But the marriage was positively toxic. Even as a child I knew my mother was deeply unsatisfied with my father, their friends, her home…’

He paused, and she felt the muscles in his arm tremble.

‘And me,’ he said.

Teddie swallowed. She felt as though she was sitting on quicksand. Aristo sounded so certain, but that couldn’t be true. No mother would feel that way. But she knew that if she was upset George always worried that he’d done something wrong…

‘She might have been unhappy, but I’m sure that didn’t have anything to do with you. You’re her son.’

He flexed his shoulders, as though trying to shift some weight, and then, turning, he gave her a small, tight smile. ‘She has two sons, but she prefers the other one. The one who doesn’t remind her of her mediocre first husband.’

Her hand fluttered against his face and she started to protest again, but he grabbed her fingers, stilling them.

‘When I was five she moved out and took an apartment in the city. She left me behind. She said she needed space, but she’d already met Peter by then.’

Catching sight of Teddie’s stunned expression, Aristo felt his throat tighten. But he had told her he was going to be honest, and that meant telling even the most painful truths.

‘It’s fine. I’m fine with it.’ He stared down at the water and frowned. ‘Well, maybe I’m not. I don’t know any more.’

Teddie stared at him uncertainly. Her own mother had been hopeless, but she had never doubted her love—just her competence.

‘But she must be so proud of you—of everything you’ve achieved. You’ve worked so hard.’

His profile was taut. He was still like a statue. ‘Yes, I work. Unlike my half-brother, Oliver, who has a title and an estate. Not that it’s his fault,’ he added. ‘It’s just that her feelings were more obvious after he was born.’

His voice was matter-of-fact, but she could hear the hurt and her chest squeezed against the ache of misery lodged beneath her heart.

‘But you like him?’ she said quickly, trying to find something positive.

He shrugged. ‘I don’t really know him. He’s seven years younger than me, and I was sent to boarding school when he was born. I guess I was jealous of him, of how much love my mother gave him. I’ve spent most of my life trying to earn that love.’

Her fingers gripped his so hard that it hurt, and he smiled stiffly.

‘She left my father because she thought he wasn’t good enough, and I guess I thought all women were like her—always wanting more, wanting the best possible version of life.’

‘I never wanted that,’ she said quietly.

The crickets were growing quieter now as the evening air cooled.

‘I know. I know that now,’ he corrected himself. ‘But back then I suppose I was always waiting for you to leave me. When I came back from that trip after we argued about you giving up work, and you’d gone to see Elliot, I overreacted. I convinced myself that you were lying. That you didn’t just want space.’

He could still remember how it had felt—that feeling of the connection between them starting to fade, like a radio station or mobile phone signal going out of range so that there would be periods when they seemed to skip whole segments of time and conversation. He’d been terrified, but it hadn’t been only the sudden shifting insubstantiality of their relationship that had scared him, but the feeling that he was powerless to stop it.

‘I did just want space.’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘I wasn’t leaving you.’

‘I know.’ He pressed her hands between his. ‘I’m to blame here. I was so convinced that you’d do what my mother did, and so desperate not to become my father, only I ended up creating the perfect conditions to make both those things happen.’

‘Not on your own, you didn’t!’

He almost smiled. ‘Now who’s being nice?’

She struggled free of his grip, clasping his arms tightly, stricken not just by the quiet, controlled pain in his voice but by what they had both pushed away four years ago.

‘I was lonely and unhappy but I didn’t address those problems—I didn’t confront you. I ran away just like when I was a teenager.’

‘I’d have run away from me too.’ His face creased. ‘I know I wasn’t a good husband, and that I worked too hard, but it was difficult for me to give it up because work’s been so important to me for so long. I didn’t understand what it was doing to you—to us—but I’ve changed. I understand now, and you’re what’s important to me, Teddie—you and George.’

She wanted to believe him, and it would be so much easier to do so now, for she could see how her panicky behaviour must have appeared to him.

Last time the spectre of her parents’ marriage—and his parents’—had always been there in the background. They’d both been too quick to judge the other. When the cracks had appeared he had overreacted and she had run away.

Her eyes were blurred with tears as she felt barriers she had built long before they’d even met starting to crumble.

Maybe they could make it work. Maybe the past was reversible. And if they both chose to behave differently then maybe the outcome would be different too.

Aristo reached out and drew her closer and she splayed her fingers across his chest, feeling his heartbeat slamming against the palm of her hand.

‘Please give me a second chance, Teddie. That’s all I’m asking. I just want to put the past behind us and start again.’

His gaze was unwavering, and the intensity and certainty in his eyes made her heart race.

‘I want that too,’ she said hoarsely. ‘But there’s so much at stake if we get it wrong again.’

She thought about her son, and the simple life they’d shared for three years.

‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘But that’s why we won’t get it wrong.’

If he could just get her to say yes…

She hesitated, her green eyes flickering over his face. He felt a first faint glimmer of hope, and had to hold himself back from pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she agreed.

‘This time it will be good between us,’ he said softly. ‘I promise.’

Her head was spinning. It was what she wanted—what she’d always wanted. He was all she’d ever wanted, and she’d never stopped wanting him because she had never stopped loving him.

From the moment she’d chosen him to walk up onto that stage, his intense dark eyes and even darker suit teasing her with a promise of both passion and purpose, the world had been his world and her heart had belonged to him.

Her pulse fluttered. Around her there was a stillness, as though the momentousness of her realisation had stopped the crickets, and even the motion of the sea.

She searched his face. Could it be possible that Aristo felt the same way?

Looking up into his rigid, beautiful face, she knew that right now she wasn’t ready to know the answer to that question, or even to ask it. She still hadn’t replied to his marriage proposal—and, really, why was she waiting? She knew what she wanted, for deep down it was what she’d never stopped wanting.

‘Yes, I’ll marry you,’ she said slowly, and then he was sliding his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer, kissing her deeply.

And there was only Aristo, his lips, his hands, and a completeness like no other.