Читать книгу The British Bachelors Collection - Сара Крейвен, Kate Hardy - Страница 16

DRAKE had laid a blanket and some cushions down on the heated wooden floor in his office, and Layla settled herself down beside him and rested her head in the crook of his arm, staring up in wonder at the cornucopia of dazzling stars that were gloriously twinkling above them through the glass ceiling. He’d been absolutely right when he’d told her that the light they emitted was so bright there was no need to turn on the lamps.

‘What a genius idea to do this,’ she declared enthusiastically, turning towards him.

‘So it’s a genius Iam now, is it?’

For sheer vivacity and beauty, in Layla’s opinion the sparkle in Drake’s haunting grey eyes as he glanced back at her was equal to the array of stars that shone down on them. The realisation that she loved him … loved him with all her heart … struck her absolutely dumb. All she could do right then was stare into his carved handsome face and mentally imprint every beloved feature to memory, so that his image might sustain her whenever they were apart.

‘What is it?’ he asked, frowning, intuiting that something profound had pierced her. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong. As a matter of fact, things couldn’t be more right.’

Somehow she managed to divert him from learning the stunning realisation that had just rocked her world off its axis. She guessed that now wasn’t the right time to share the news—not when he’d already had such a torrid time revisiting his agonisingly painful past. There was also a terrible fear inside her that he might not welcome her revelation—might even reject her if he wasn’t ready to explore the possibility of them having a future together. She decided that she would bide her time.

‘I’m just … I’m really enjoying myself, that’s all,’ she said lightly.

‘Me too.’ Reassured, Drake smiled and dropped an affectionate kiss onto her forehead.

For once he looked completely at ease. Even the furrows on his indomitable brow seemed more relaxed.

Layla couldn’t help sighing. ‘Don’t you wish you could capture some of your most magical experiences and keep them for ever? I mean keep them safely locked away in a silk-lined drawer and bring them out whenever you have a bad day or simply need a pick-me-up?’

Hugging her companion’s lean trim waist in the chambray shirt he wore loose over his jeans, she pressed closer into his side, breathing in his earthy masculine smell as though it was the most alluring and compelling perfume she’d ever scented.

He chuckled and she felt his fingers ruffle her hair. ‘Omit the silk-lined drawer, sweetheart, and I totally concur with what you’re saying. This is indeed one of those magical experiences that I’ll never forget. But, for me, this whole weekend has been like that.’

‘Has it? I was afraid I’d ruined everything by getting you to answer questions about your past.’

‘You haven’t ruined anything, and you were entitled to question me. Didn’t I make a promise that I’d talk to you? I’ve come round to thinking that perhaps it was about time I opened up to someone about what happened when I was a kid, even though it was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.’ Drake’s expression visibly softened. ‘I’m glad that it was you I confided in, Layla. I wouldn’t have told anyone else and that’s the truth … not even a trained counsellor. My deepest darkest secrets would have gone with me to my grave.’ His wry smile was reflective.

‘Don’t say that.’ She caught his hand and urgently kissed it. ‘I can’t bear the thought of you being tormented by the past for the rest of your life and never telling anyone … never having any relief from the pain of it. I’m glad you agreed to talk to me, Drake, even though it was painful and difficult.’ Staring deeply into his eyes, she finished, ‘I’m also glad that you don’t hate me for making you share your secrets with me.’

Bewildered, Drake shook his head. ‘I could never hate you … no matter what you did to me. Don’t you know that?’

She emitted a relieved sigh and her lips curved warmly. ‘We’re still friends, then?’

‘Is that all you want to be to me … a friend?’

His lowered husky tone was akin to cream liqueur poured into a cup of the finest dark roast coffee … devastatingly warm and rich with a hint of luxurious velvet that was far too enticing to resist. Before Layla could reply, his lips had alighted on hers with an almost savage groan, and in the next instant his hot silken tongue was plundering the satin interior of her mouth as his big hands cupped her face and his hard-muscled body moved on top of hers, his superior weight pressing her spine deep into the luxurious woollen blanket he had lain down on the floor.

As far as Layla was concerned it might as well have been a soft feather bed. There was no sense of discomfort at all. How could there be when every ounce of her attention was intimately focused on the man who was once again taking her to a paradise she never wanted to leave, just so long as she could stay there with him for ever?

When they returned to the house and retired to bed, deliciously sated from their ardent lovemaking, Drake didn’t have a single qualm about turning out the light. There was no need to wonder why he suddenly found the normally difficult task easy. The prospect of the black velvet night enveloping him and filling him with dread like it usually did didn’t feature even once in his thinking … at least not with Layla lying beside him. Even though he’d fiercely resisted sharing the truth of his past with her, she had somehow broken through his iron defences to show him how sharing his story could actually help him banish the ghosts that haunted him—not make them even more cloying.

For the first time in years he’d discovered the true value of confiding in someone he trusted. But the most important thing that he’d learned from their heart-rending conversation was that the belief he’d had about having to deserve love was completely wrong. As a child, it had been his fundamental right to be taken care of, Layla had told him. He hadn’t been denied love because he was ‘bad’. It was just that his parents had been incapable of taking proper care of him, and how could that be his fault?

Talking about what had happened was already alleviating some of the fearful beliefs that had crippled him for too long. Consequently, with his ravishing dark-haired lover warmly enfolded in his arms, for the first time ever Drake slept the deep dreamless sleep of a man whose resentment and fear of the past was blessedly absent.

That night no dark or agonising dreams came to haunt him, and he felt like the most privileged and blessed man in the world when he woke to the joyful sound of birds singing the next morning and witnessed the sun beaming through the windows to herald a bright new day. If he didn’t pride himself on being an innately logical man he might have said it was a very good omen. An omen that meant psychologically he’d turned an important corner.

Logical or not, he had the strongest urge to share his reflections with Layla. A jolt of panic knifed through him when he saw she wasn’t there. Sitting bolt upright, Drake touched the sheet where her body had lain in sleep. It was still beguilingly warm. Where was she? Taking a shower?

He leapt out of bed and threw open the en-suite bathroom door to check. The moist shampoo-scented air in the marbled bathroom told him that she had indeed taken a shower, but had clearly moved on somewhere else. Returning to the bedroom, he pulled on a pair of clean silk boxers and dragged on his jeans. Barefoot and bare-chested, he hurried downstairs to the kitchen, calling out her name as he went.

‘I’m in here,’ she called back, and when Drake planted himself in the kitchen doorway she turned to him with a smile so beautiful and beguiling that he clean forgot what he’d been going to say to her.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, ‘You’re wearing my shirt again,’ he observed, helplessly aroused at the sight of her long bare legs and the provocative outline of her panties, tantalisingly visible through the pristine white cotton.

‘Do you mind?’ Chewing down on her lip, she smoothed her still damp hair away from her face. ‘I just grabbed something to put on after my shower so I could come downstairs and make us some coffee.’

‘You can wear whatever you like that belongs to me.’ Moving towards her, he grinned. ‘Although I’d prefer it if you wore nothing at all.’

‘That’s not a terribly good idea when I’m boiling water.’

‘Are you always so cautious?’ Sliding his hands round her waist, Drake let his hungry gaze drink her in as if she was the finest wine he’d ever sampled. But even the most full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon or French Bordeaux didn’t have the power to heat his blood like Layla did.

‘Sometimes not cautious enough,’ she murmured, flattening her palms against his chest as if to stop him from getting any closer.

‘Why? Don’t you trust me?’

She lifted an amused dark eyebrow. ‘Not when you come down to the kitchen looking like you’ve got lascivious intentions in mind rather than wanting to enjoy a cup of my expertly made coffee.’

‘Can’t I have lascivious intentions and enjoy your expertly made coffee as well?’

‘I’m sure you can. But my own intentions are to make some toast, because I’m at my hungriest in the morning. By the way, did you sleep all right last night? You certainly looked peaceful when I woke up this morning and saw you. That’s why I decided to let you sleep on for a bit.’

His mouth quirked with a wry smile, ‘I slept like I’d been pleasantly drugged. I can’t recall having even a single dream.’

‘So … there were no nightmares?’

‘None.’ Drake tenderly threaded his fingers through her long damp hair. ‘See what a positive effect you have on me, Ms Jerome?’

‘I aim to please.’

‘Do you indeed?’

A self-conscious tinge of scarlet coloured her cheeks. ‘Seriously, though, I’m so glad you slept better. I hope it becomes a regular feature … the start of a much more relaxed and enjoyable phase of your life. You deserve it, Drake. By the way—I’ve got one more question to ask you.’

‘What’s that?’ A wave of pleasure had rolled through him at her kindness, her genuinely unselfish hopes for his future, but he had a brief moment of trepidation wondering what she might be going to ask him.

‘Do you have any marmalade? It’s just that it’s my favourite thing to have on toast in the morning.’

His relief that her question wasn’t more taxing knew no bounds. With a chuckle, he affectionately pinched the end of her nose. ‘Baby I’ve got whatever your heart desires.’

Unable to resist impelling her against his chest, Drake felt the blood in his veins thrum hotly at the delicious sensory pleasure of her soft feminine curves next to his harder masculine body.

The big long-lashed dark eyes that he’d been so mesmerised by when he’d seen Layla for the very first time widened to saucers. ‘That’s a very beguiling claim, but luckily for you all I want right now is some marmalade.’

‘Is that really all you want?’ He slid his hand all the way down her slim back to rest it on her peach-shaped derrière, then pressed her against him so that she could be in no doubt about how much he wanted her. He was so aroused it was painful.

‘You don’t play fair,’ she chastised, wagging her finger schoolmistress-like at him, her voice completely devoid of sympathy. ‘As tempting as you are … as needy as you are … I’m afraid I’m going to have to exercise some of that bull-headedness you once accused me of because before I contemplate anything else I really need my breakfast.’

Before he could stop her she’d wriggled out of his arms and headed for the bread-bin atop the kitchen counter. He knew it contained the brown seeded loaf that he’d bought at the deli along with their croissants yesterday. Sighing, he realised he would manfully have to subdue his desire—at least until she’d had her breakfast. Clearly there was no stopping the woman when her mind was set on something. His feelings were a provoking mix of frustration and affection.

‘I’d be a poor host indeed if I didn’t let you eat.’ He smiled and, moving across to the large American-style fridge, extracted an unopened pot of marmalade. ‘Why don’t you make the coffee and let me do the toast?’ he suggested. ‘After that we’ll—’

‘Go back to bed?’ Layla’s chocolate-brown eyes met his with an unwavering amused stare that made Drake’s heart miss a beat.

‘My thoughts exactly,’ he agreed huskily.

It was hard for Layla to accept that their time together was coming to an end. Having already explained that he probably wouldn’t be able to see her this week, due to his colossal workload—not least of all their town’s pressing and much needed regeneration—Drake had definitely looked unhappy when he’d told her. Telling herself she’d just have to accept his absence and pray that the following week might yield a greater possibility of them seeing each other again, Layla fell silent as he drove them home, not trusting herself in case she broke down and confessed that she loved him.

Why did the prospect of saying goodbye to him this evening feel like a death sentence? she wondered miserably. They’d had such a wonderful day together—laughing and talking and making love till they were breathless and sated, then somehow finding the energy to go down to the kitchen and make themselves something to eat. It didn’t seem right that they should be parted for even an hour, let alone a whole week!

‘Before I drop you home I’d like to show you something.’ Drake’s handsome carved profile was disconcertingly serious as he stared out through the windscreen, making the necessary turn that would take them out of the near deserted high street.

The only occupants in evidence were a couple of local teenagers leaning against a galvanised steel grille shop-front, smoking. Compared to the wealthy and elite part of the capital she and Drake had just come from, the shabby provincial town seemed even more rundown and drab than it usually did.

‘Show me what?’ Layla asked, unable to suppress the feeling of inexplicable apprehension that coiled in the pit of her stomach.

‘The house where I grew up.’

He spared her a brief unreadable glance just as she registered that they were approaching the small shabby side-street whose abandoned terraced houses he planned to tear down and replace with modern ones. The house he drew up outside was a dismal grey terrace with all the windows shattered and broken and a large ‘Keep Out’ sign emblazoned across the dingy charcoal-grey front door. The stone steps that led to the once fashionable arched brick entrance were covered in litter and broken beer bottles, she saw. No doubt some of the population of jobless teenagers and youths hung out there, she thought.

Unsure about what to say, she laid her hand across Drake’s, not moving it even when she sensed him flinch uncomfortably.

Now that she knew something of his unhappy past, she hoped visiting the street wouldn’t bombard him with tormenting memories. It wasn’t hard to imagine what he must be thinking, and no doubt that was why he was so determined to demolish the houses rather than have them renovated. Did he hope that when the houses were smashed to smithereens it would likewise crush the hurtful nightmares of his past? Last night she’d been so encouraged when he’d been able to turn out the light and sleep more easily, and she didn’t doubt that trend would continue if only he could realise he wasn’t to blame for what had happened to him as a child … that he’d always deserved to be loved just as much as anyone else did.

‘It’s funny,’ he murmured, ‘but it looks so much smaller and insignificant than it did when I was a child. If my dad was still alive I bet he’d look smaller and insignificant too.’

‘If the thought helps you no longer see him as an ogre, and you can start to put your disturbing memories of him to bed, then I’m glad you think that. But I’m sure that if he could see you now and learn what a successful and wealthy man you’ve become—through all your own efforts too—he would be proud … even if he couldn’t bring himself to show it.’

A muscle flinched in the side of Drake’s lean, carved cheekbone, conveying the undoubted tension in his body. ‘The old bastard was too mean to be proud of anyone or anything … especially his son. He was totally self-obsessed. But thanks for the thought just the same.’

Grimacing, Layla didn’t shy away from the bitterness and sorrow she heard in his tone and lapse into silence. Instead an even stronger determination to stay as positive as possible and not collude with his misery arose inside her. ‘You know if it was renovated along with all the others in the street this house could potentially be very nice. Was it in such a sorry state as it is now when you lived here with your dad?’ she asked.

Sighing heavily, Drake shook his head. ‘It was always rundown, but not as bad as it is now, thank God. As I got older I used to try and keep it free from litter at least. And the windows never got broken because it was my job to clean them. I didn’t dare risk kicking a football around outside and potentially ruining all my hard work. Even then I longed for my surroundings to be beautiful.’

Helplessly picturing the small boy who’d taken on the household jobs his father should have assumed, in a bid to maintain some sort of pleasing exterior to what must have been his desperately unhappy interior life, Layla grimaced again. ‘Has it helped you coming back here to see it again?’ she asked softly.

‘Who knows?’ The expression in his haunting grey eyes was far away for a moment. ‘Only time will tell. The point is I didn’t want to hide anything from you—that’s why I brought you here. I wanted you to see for yourself the house and the environment I grew up in. I wanted to be truthful and show you exactly where I came from … who I really am.’

‘I feel privileged that you trust me enough to show me, Drake. But who you really are isn’t defined by your past, you know. You can write a new script every day … every moment, in fact. It didn’t happen overnight, but recently I’ve come to realise that myself. Thinking about how my boss ripped me off just keeps me stuck in the same miserable, unhappy story. It doesn’t help me move on and enjoy my life, and just because we’ve been hurt by someone in the past it doesn’t mean that everyone we meet in the future is going to hurt us.’

‘I’m sure you’re right.’ Drake’s steady glance was deeply thoughtful for a moment. ‘I’ve got something I want to tell you before I take you home.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m not going to have the houses demolished after all. I’m going to have them renovated, as you suggested.’

Layla was speechless. Then, as hope and elation poured through her at the same time, she smiled at Drake and said, ‘You are? What changed your mind?’

‘You did, Layla. You made me see things differently. I’ve begun to wonder if this regeneration of the town isn’t a good opportunity for me to bury the ghosts of the past and start over. I have the means and the know how to help others who live here have a better and more beautiful environment that might inspire them to do something good with their lives instead of feeling hopeless, and that’s exactly what I plan to do. I’m also going to turn my old house into that youth club you suggested the town needs.’

‘You mean it?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘I can hardly believe it,’ Sighing, Layla slowly shook her head in wonder. ‘I’m so proud of you, Drake … so proud. I don’t doubt that given time you’re going to make a huge difference to people’s lives with all you plan to do here.’

‘Talking of time—I ought to get you home.’

Lifting her hand in a gentlemanly gesture that might have come straight out of a Regency novel, he brushed his lips against her fingers with almost polite restraint. Even then Layla realised the heat between them was but a mere breath away, and could be ignited by one unguarded glance, let alone a touch. Breathing out slowly, she somehow found a smile—no easy task when she knew they would soon have to say goodbye to each other. She honestly wondered how she would survive the next few days without seeing him.

As if the same realisation had suddenly occurred to him, Drake clenched his jaw and gunned the engine. But as the car sped along the dark shabby streets Layla believed that he would indeed put the ghosts of his troubled past behind him and truly start afresh. He’d told her she had helped him see things differently. Did that include her assertion that he could write a new script for his life? Whether the idea would help him reflect on the possibility of a brighter future with her, she could only hope and pray …

‘It’s the house on the right-hand side.’

‘You mean the large Victorian?’

‘That’s right.’

Driving through the well-kept streets on the much more affluent side of town, Drake felt the pit of his stomach churn helplessly. From her description of where she lived, he’d already guessed that Layla’s upbringing had been a million miles away from his own. Without even hearing her address he only had to remember the kindness of her father who’d run the newsagents to know that she’d been well taken care of. There was also the brother who adored her … the brother who was determined to make a currently unprofitable coffee house a roaring success, and had given her a job when her sleazebag employer had swindled her out of her savings. Who wouldn’t be envious of having a sibling like that to rely on?

After spending such an unbelievably joyous weekend with Layla, he hated the insecurity that suddenly seized him. The prospect of not seeing her again for an entire week didn’t help. Following her out of the car, Drake struggled hard to win back his equilibrium.

‘Will you come in and have a coffee with me before you head back to London?’ she asked him, her tone hinting at her uncertainty that he might not.

‘That would be great.’ Determinedly finding a reassuring smile, he reached for her hand. Didn’t she know that the prospect of spending a little more time with her made him feel as wildly happy as a prisoner on death row who’d been given an unbelievable last minute reprieve?

As they climbed the steps to the impressive porch of the house the scarlet front door opened from the inside and Marc, Layla’s tousle-headed brother, appeared to greet them.

‘The wanderer returns.’ He immediately stepped forward to envelop his sister in a hard warm hug, and Drake had no choice but to let go of her hand. The cold stab of jealousy that slashed through his insides at being forced to relinquish her even for a moment almost made him feel physically sick it was so strong.

‘Are you okay?’ The other man wore a frown as he held Layla at arm’s length to examine her. ‘I tried God only knows how many times over the weekend to reach you, but you’d obviously turned off your phone.’ He glanced warily at Drake over her shoulder. ‘I tried your mobile as well, but that was turned off too. Anyone would think the two of you had disappeared off the planet!’

Drake’s gaze tumbled helplessly into Layla’s and their eyes exchanged a very private signal of mutual understanding. ‘We stayed on the planet, but I don’t deny we shut out the world for a couple of days,’ he drawled, low-voiced.

‘I was perfectly fine, Marc,’ Layla cut in quickly. ‘You know I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, so there was absolutely no need for you to worry. Now, I’m going upstairs to my flat to make Drake and me a cup of coffee. Do you want to join us?’

‘Thanks all the same, but I won’t. The accounts beckon, I’m afraid. By the way—I made a couple of Victoria sponges to take into the café tomorrow. Help yourself if you’d like some with your coffee. It’s nice to see you again, Drake … even if you did kidnap my beautiful sister for the weekend!’

‘It’s good to see you too,’ Drake murmured, right then feeling anything but friendly towards the other man.

He was glad to be invited upstairs to Layla’s flat so that they could have some privacy. Back at the house in Mayfair, he’d asked her if she thought his home lacked warmth. Glancing round the cosy living-room in her flat, with its sandalwood-scented air, homely feminine touches, mismatched furniture, family portraits on the walls and enough candles in the fireplace to light a cathedral, it wasn’t a question she would ever have to ask him. Her home was an irresistibly warm expression of the lovely woman who inhabited it, and Drake was suddenly unsure about the hopes he’d subconsciously been nurturing over the weekend.

What could he possibly offer a woman like Layla, apart from what his material wealth could provide? he wondered. Having come into contact with her generous heart and concern for others, he doubted whether that would even be an inducement. Why would she want to leave a home she loved with a brother who adored and looked out for her to move up to London and live with him? he mused. Especially when her experience of living and working there previously had been indelibly soured by an unscrupulous boss who had swindled her out of her life savings and seduced her. Wasn’t that why she had retreated from city life in the first place? To lick her wounds in a place of safety?

As sure as night followed day, and despite his plans to regenerate the town and improve it, Drake certainly wouldn’t contemplate returning to live with her, no matter how strong his feelings were. And even if they could agree on a mutually acceptable place of residence if they got together permanently, what if one day Layla walked out on him, just as his mother had? What if she made that soul-destroying decision because she’d reached the same conclusion his ex had made about him … that he was ‘emotionally crippled’ and—despite his wealth and success—a poor bet if he couldn’t shake his past? Could he risk such a devastating possibility and be left to live his life without her?

‘Do you fancy a slice of Victoria sponge with your coffee?’ As she returned to the living room from the kitchen Layla’s cheerful voice broke into his bleak introspection.

‘No, thanks.’ He gave an awkward shrug of the shoulders. ‘In fact, I don’t think I’ll stay and have coffee after all. I’ve had my mobile switched off since Friday night, and I’ve probably got at least fifty or sixty messages I need to reply to.’

Her lovely face was immediately crestfallen, and Drake felt like the very worst criminal.

‘Can’t you stay for just half an hour longer? Surely that won’t make a lot of difference? In any case, it won’t be late by the time you get back to London. You’ll have plenty of time to answer your messages then,’ she pointed out reasonably.

Her suggestion was more than tempting, but he had already made up his mind to go. They had spent an amazing and intense time together, but now he needed some space and time alone to get his head straight.

Without thinking he moved across the room and took her into his arms. ‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, I really am. But I’ve got a heavy week ahead of me and there are plans and drawings I need to study, as well as replying to my phone messages. We’ll see each other again very soon … I promise. I’ll ring you just as soon as I know when I can take some time off.’

Her dark eyes looked alternately sad, then resigned. That disappointed and melancholy glance made Drake feel as though someone had punched him hard in the gut.

‘If for some reason you can’t reach me on my mobile you can leave a message with Marc, either here or at the café,’ she told him, her tongue moistening her lips as if they’d suddenly turned dry.

‘Great.’ His fingers firmed possessively round her slim upper arms, the warmth of her satin skin provocatively evident in the sheer silk blouse he had bought her. Desolation settled in the pit of his stomach at the thought of sleeping in his bed tonight without her. ‘It’s been an incredible weekend and I’ve loved every minute of it being with you, Layla,’ he told her honestly, his voice low.

In answer, her pretty lips curved to form the sweetest smile. ‘I’ll never forget lying on the blanket in your office looking up at the stars through that amazing glass ceiling,’ she admitted softly.

‘We’ll do it again some time soon. That’s a promise.’

‘I’ll hold you to that.’ Reaching up on tiptoe, she pressed her lips gently against his. ‘You’d better go before I make a complete fool of myself and cry,’ she said.

Forcing himself to ignore the instinct to plunder and ravish her mouth, as he longed to do, Drake slowly nodded his head. ‘Thanks for everything,’ he murmured, reluctantly extricating himself from their embrace and walking to the door.

‘It was my pleasure,’ Layla murmured, and he turned briefly to give her a smile …