Читать книгу Modern Romance June 2017 Books 5 - 8 - Jane Porter, Andie Brock - Страница 19
ОглавлениеTHEY HAD DINNER with Jax in the castle’s “small” dining room, a room that still featured massive wooden beams and a huge iron chandelier and tapestries on two walls depicting a violent medieval battle, not to mention two suits of armor.
Jax was fascinated by the armor and the stone fireplace and the tapestry with the violent battles. She was the one to point out that even the intricate carvings worked into the mantel were of “fighting.”
“Ireland is a very old country,” Rowan explained to her. “It has a long history, and fortunately, or unfortunately, there have been many battles fought here.”
Jax turned her wide blue eyes on him, studying him now with intense interest. “Fighting is bad.”
“Fighting isn’t good, no,” he answered, “but sometimes you fight to protect things...your country, your family, your home.”
She digested this in silence and then just moments later, slid out of her chair again to go study the fireplace once more.
In the end, there was very little real eating done, and mostly explanations and exploration, but Logan didn’t mind. She’d found it difficult to eat tonight, her emotions still raw, her thoughts painfully convoluted.
And Jax was even doing her a favor, providing a diversion, keeping Rowan occupied with all her questions about war and Ireland and the coats of armor at both sides of the room, keeping Logan and Rowan from speaking to each other very much.
But finally, after dessert had been served, Orla appeared and offered to give Jax a bath and read her a story, promising Logan and Rowan that she’d let them know when Jax was ready to sleep, so they could come up and kiss her good-night.
Rowan glanced at Logan as if to let her decide.
Logan looked at her daughter who was already talking animatedly to Orla and seemed more than happy to leave the dining room and return upstairs.
Logan nodded consent, unable to argue with the plan, while at the same time aware that once Jax was gone, she and Rowan would be left alone together and they’d have to address the uncomfortable tension that had hummed in the dining room since the beginning of the meal.
“What do you want?” he asked her, breaking the silence. “What will make this better? What else can I tell you about my family, or my past, to show you who I am and help you believe that I’m committed to you—to us—and that I think we can be happy without all the hearts and fuss and romance.”
“I’m not asking for hearts and fuss,” she answered. “And you mock me when you imply that my needs are so trivial.”
“I’m not trying to mock you, or trivialize what you feel. If anything I’m frustrated that you don’t understand that what we do have is good. What we have physically is explosive and intense and deeply satisfying, and it’s not often like this. To be honest, I’ve never known this with any other woman. I’ve only ever found this with you.”
She froze, not certain what to do with that. She searched his face, scrutinizing his hard, masculine features, wishing she could believe him.
Would he lie to her?
Her brow creased, as she struggled to remember if he’d ever lied to her. He’d been harsh...cruel...but she didn’t think he’d ever lied before, which was key. She hated liars. Hated to be played...
Her father had played them. Her father had turned them all into fools.
“But maybe I’m wrong,” he added after a moment. “Maybe you’ve found this...connection...with someone else. Maybe there was someone who made you feel better.”
“I’ve never been with anyone but you, so I wouldn’t know,” she answered flatly.
She saw the moment her words registered.
“You’ve only ever been with me?” he asked.
Her shoulders twisted. She kept her voice cool. “The night in California and then here.”
He exhaled slowly, his forehead furrowed, expression troubled. “So you really don’t know about... You have nothing to measure this—us—by.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that or how to answer something like that, and so she didn’t.
Thank God he didn’t ask why, because that would mean he truly didn’t understand how difficult the past few years had been. That would mean he still believed she was that spoiled, pampered, selfish Copeland girl...
But he didn’t ask why and she didn’t have to defend herself. She didn’t have to throw in his face that society continued to ostracize her and her siblings, making it almost impossible for them to make a living.
No, life had not been easy, and especially for her, once pregnant, it became downright brutal. There had been no time for men. There had been no time for herself.
And even if there had been time to date...she wouldn’t have. She didn’t want another man. She’d wanted him. She’d fallen for him. Which, in many ways, was the greatest shame of all.
“We can make this work,” Rowan said abruptly, leaving his chair, and walking toward her. “We can give Jax something better than what I knew and better than what I had. I want her to have stability and laughter and fun and adventure, and that can happen, but you and I, we have to get along.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now? Trying to figure out how we can make this work?”
“I’m not sure anymore. I worry that you’ve already decided that it won’t work, and you’re just placating me until you can leave.” He stopped in front of her, expression brooding. “But if you leave, it means Jax won’t ever have one home. She’ll end up like me, bouncing back and forth between homes and countries...different cultures, different customs, different schools. It’s a lonely life for a child—”
“As well as a lonely life for me. Do you think I want my daughter living halfway around the world without me? Do you think I want to miss Christmas with her or a birthday celebration?” She was on her feet, too, her dinner chair between them, because God help her, he couldn’t touch her again. She couldn’t let him close because every time he reached for her, she melted, but giving in to him only made things worse. It made her hate him despite herself. “I don’t want to live without my daughter. But I won’t be forced into living with you, either!”
“I’m not forcing you. I want you to want to be here—”
“But I don’t want to be here. I didn’t choose to be here. And I didn’t choose you.”
“You did once.”
She flushed, remembering the auction and how she’d put herself into a terrible financial situation just to be with him.
Even then, she was weak.
Even then, she was a fool.
“Yes, you’re right,” she whispered, heartsick all over again. “I did choose you and then you crushed me. Like a bug under the heel of your shoe.” She gulped air, arms folding tightly across her chest to keep from throwing up. “And I’m just supposed to forget about what you did, right? I’m just supposed to act like it didn’t happen. Well, it did happen! And it hurt. You almost broke me, Rowan. You made me question my own sanity and I’m not interested in ever feeling that way again.”
She drew deep rough breaths as she backed away from him. “For one night I was yours, Rowan. All yours. And then I discovered what it means to be yours. And I have no desire, ever, to be yours again.”
She started for the door, walking quickly to escape the room as fast as possible, but his voice stopped her midway.
“Forgive me, Logan,” he said quietly. “Please.”
For a long moment there was just silence. She couldn’t bring herself to answer, and she wouldn’t let herself look at him, either.
Finally when the silence had become suffocating and her body quivered with tension, she shook her head, and without a glance back, walked out.
But once at the stairs, Logan choked on a smothered cry, and dashed up the steep steps, taking them two at a time, trying to escape the hot, livid pain streaking through her heart.
Jax was asleep when Logan reached the room, and after saying good-night to Orla, Logan changed into her pajamas, but she couldn’t get into bed—she was too wound up.
She paced until she couldn’t take another step, and then she finally sank onto the plush rose-and-ruby carpet in front of the fireplace, and closed her eyes, trying to clear her head and get some much needed calm and perspective.
But every time she drew a deep breath, she felt a sharp ache in her chest and it hurt so much that she couldn’t focus.
He’d asked her to forgive him, and she’d refused. Refused.
That was horrible. She felt horrible, but if she forgave him, truly forgave him, then she’d have no way to resist him, because she already cared too much for him. She was already far too invested.
Her anger was all she had left to try to protect herself. Without her anger she’d have no armor, and without armor, he could break her all over again.
But hanging on to the anger would destroy her, too. Anger was so toxic. It was poison for the soul.
She didn’t want to be angry with him, but she also didn’t want to stay here and give up the last of her dreams. She wanted a family for Jax, but she also wanted love for herself and it wasn’t enough to be Rowan’s sex kitten.
As much as she enjoyed being in his bed, she wanted his heart more than his body.
It was time to leave.
She’d pack tonight and leave tomorrow. Rowan would have to let her go. She rose and went to pull her suitcase out from beneath her large canopy bed but was stopped by a knock on her bedroom door.
It was Rowan, she was sure of it. She could feel his very real, very physical energy on the other side of the door and her pulse quickened in response, her heart beating faster.
She retrieved the suitcase, placing it at the foot of the bed, and then went to open the door.
* * *
Rowan was not a masochist, and he was not looking forward to another conversation with Logan tonight. The last one had been more than sufficient for a single evening. But he’d promised to let her know if there was news regarding her brother, and there was news. And it wasn’t good.
Logan opened the door. She was wearing red and pink plaid pajama pants and a pink knit top that hugged her breasts, making it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra. But there was no smile as she looked at him, her jaw set, her eyes shadowed.
“Hope you weren’t asleep,” he said gruffly.
“No.” Her lips compressed and her chin lifted. “I don’t want to do this with you, Rowan. I don’t want to keep fighting—”
“Bronson’s not doing well,” he interrupted quietly. He gave her a moment to let his words sink in. “His body seems to be shutting down.”
She blinked, and looked at him, clearly confused.
He hated this next part and drew a swift breath. “They suggested it might soon be time to think about saying goodbye.”
“What?”
“Are you comfortable leaving Jax with Orla? We could fly to London first thing tomorrow and be at the hospital by nine.”
“No. No. He’s only in his midthirties. How can his body be shutting down?”
“He wasn’t strong before he was shot and he’s not responding well to treatment.”
Logan struggled to speak but the words wouldn’t come. She looked away, eyes gritty, throat sealing closed. “Why isn’t he responding to treatment?”
“He’d been ill for weeks before he was shot. His body just can’t keep fighting.”
“I want to go to him now.”
“They have him sedated. You won’t be able to see him until tomorrow.”
“I want to be there when he wakes up.”
“You will be. We’ll go in the morning—”
“I’ll go in the morning,” she corrected. “Jax and I will go. This is a Copeland family matter, and you hate the Copelands.”
“You can’t take Jax to the hospital.”
“We’re going, Rowan.” She stepped aside and gestured to the suitcase by the bed. “I’d already planned on leaving. You just need to put us on a plane and get us to London so I can see my brother. He needs me.”
He heard the words she didn’t say. Bronson needed her, whereas he, Rowan Argyros, didn’t. “And what about Jax?” he said gruffly.
Her eyes suddenly shone with tears. “You’ll miss her, but not me,” she said with a rough, raw laugh before shaking her head. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep her from you. I promise to sort out custody and visitation rights, but surely we can do it later, when my brother isn’t dying?”
Rowan’s chest squeezed. He felt an odd ache in his chest. And looking at her in the doorway, in her pink-and-red pajamas, wearing no makeup, her long hair in a loose ponytail, she looked young and impossibly pretty, and it crossed his mind that one day Jax would look just like this: fresh, sweet, pretty. Little girls did grow up. Little girls became grown-up girls and grown-up girls should never be crushed. Not by anyone.
“We can make this work, Logan. You just have to give us a chance.”
She made a soft, rough sound and blinked away tears. “I did. And the sex was great. It was fantastic. But I don’t want your body, Rowan, not without your heart.”
