Читать книгу The Scandalous Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Пенни Джордан - Страница 61

BY Monday morning Natalia didn’t feel any better inside, but at least she felt back in control. She’d taken care of her appearance, using all her hair and makeup tricks to disguise her reddened eyes and sallow complexion. Amazing what a weekend of moping did for your looks, she thought wryly as she applied bronzed blusher to her cheeks. She glanced in distaste at the sports shorts and T-shirt she would have to wear for a day on the football pitch. What she’d really like to wear, she thought, was her exclusively designed wrap dress in royal blue silk and a pair of four-inch heels. It would act as her armour; in it she’d be indestructible. Instead she was left with this useless PE kit.

By the time she arrived at the stadium, the children were already out on the pitch. Her gaze instinctively honed in on Ben’s tall, lean form, and she watched as he demonstrated some incomprehensible maneuver to a cluster of rapt children. He called one boy out of the crowd: Roberto, a young, scruffy-looking boy of about ten whom Natalia had noticed had a natural athletic talent. He picked up the new move now with ease, and she saw Ben grin his approval. Her insides twisted unpleasantly. She didn’t think Ben would be smiling much at her.

‘You’re late,’ he told her a few minutes later. The children had divided into pairs and he’d come and found her at the registration table, where she was mindlessly organising pens and papers into neat piles.

‘Traffic,’ she said without looking at him. She’d hoped to gain some of her flirty confidence back when she saw him again, but it was too hard. All she could remember was the blazing look he’d given her before he’d pulled her to him and kissed her senseless. Tears stung behind her lids and she blinked them back furiously.

‘Fine,’ Ben said after a moment. ‘Why don’t you be goalkeeper?’

She jerked her gaze up. ‘Goalkeeper?’ So kids could kick the ball at her all day? Was this Ben’s warped idea of somehow getting her back for that kiss?

He raised his eyebrows in cool challenge. ‘You have a problem with that?’

‘Of course not,’ Natalia said sweetly. How could she think she was falling in love with someone and want to stab his eye out with a pen at the same time? ‘Why would I?’ she asked him. She put the pen in the jar with the others. Taking a deep breath, she headed across to the goal area.

The next few hours were a test in both physical and emotional endurance. Although Natalia had improved her own football skills somewhat in the past week of volunteering, she wasn’t yet adept enough to avoid getting hit repeatedly by the ball as she attempted to block it. The children cheered her on good-naturedly, and she forced herself to smile and laugh even though she was aching all over, inside and out. Ben didn’t even look at her once.

By the end of the day all she wanted was a hot bath and a stiff drink. Unfortunately she had a state dinner with yet more dignitaries intent on sizing her up as a potential bride for some nameless royal. The thought only made her feel numb, for after a day of being virtually pummelled by shots on goal and Ben’s blatant rejection she had no more emotional reserves to feel anything else.

She hurried out while Ben was giving his farewell pep talk, grateful that Enrico was waiting. She slipped into the sumptuous leather interior of the car and closed her eyes, thinking only that she didn’t have to see Ben again until tomorrow.

She was wrong.

She’d just put the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

‘Your Highness? Mr Jackson is downstairs.’

‘Mr Jackson?’ Natalia stared at her maid, Ana, in disbelief and more than a little dread. ‘He’s not expected.’

‘He asked to see you. He had something to discuss.’

Natalia pressed her lips together. What on earth could Ben have to say to her? She felt a flutter of fear, and another more dangerous one of hope. Ridiculous. Stupid. ‘Very well,’ she said crisply. At least she was dressed appropriately this time. Her armour. She glanced down at the column dress of turquoise silk, a collar of diamonds at her throat. Taking a deep, calming breath she headed downstairs.

Ben paced the small, elegant salon he’d been directed to when he’d arrived unannounced at the palazzo. Although the sentries at the door had not betrayed a flicker of surprise or unease, Ben still sensed that he’d seriously disturbed royal protocol by arriving so suddenly.

‘Their Royal Highnesses are hosting a dinner tonight,’ the master butler had told him with a hint of reproach.

‘This won’t take a moment. I need to discuss a few things about the princess’s volunteering duties,’ Ben had replied tersely.

Actually, that was a lie. Two lies. He didn’t know how long it would take, and he had no duties to discuss with Natalia. He didn’t know what he was going to say, only that he’d come here on instinct, or maybe just need. After a day of doing his best to ignore Natalia and yet always remaining achingly, agonisingly aware of her, he knew he had to do something. Say something. Maybe even tell the truth.

Except he didn’t even know what the truth was.

Ben let out a groan of angry frustration. Natalia had been right. He was scared. He hated feeling out of control, had organised his life so he never was. His childhood had been unsettled enough, with his parents together and then apart, his father with money and then without, the tabloids documenting every slip or stumble. Up and down, around and around, like a crazy out-of-control carousel, and Ben never felt like he knew what was going to happen.

Then he’d discovered football and thought he’d found a way to feel in control, to make his father and family proud. For a few short years he’d ridden that wave of success and accomplishment, and when it had been taken from him, he’d turned to business. He’d sought success and respect and he’d gained them. Earned them. And now he felt as if he were poised to lose it all, by falling in love with a woman who was beyond inappropriate, a woman with a history of scandals and affairs that rivalled his father’s. What on earth was he thinking? He couldn’t believe he’d even mentally formed the word love.

He didn’t want love. Didn’t trust it, didn’t need it. And he was not in love with Princess Natalia.

‘You wished to discuss something?’

Ben whirled around, blindsided by Natalia’s sudden appearance. She looked every inch the regal princess in a turquoise silk evening gown that managed to be elegant and modest while still making his palms itch with the need to touch her. Her eyes glittered and her chin was lifted haughtily. She was on the defensive. Could he really blame her?

‘I wanted to talk to you.’

She arched one eyebrow, coldly incredulous. ‘I was with you all day, Ben. Is this really necessary?’ With one golden, slender arm she indicated the palazzo and everything it represented. ‘I’m afraid guests will be arriving at any moment.’

‘This won’t take long.’

She simply waited, leaving him tongue-tied. Damn. Why couldn’t he think of a single thing to say? Do? He wanted to kiss her again. Desperately. If he did, would she push him away?

‘Natalia …’ he began. ‘I’m sorry.’ She said nothing, and he shifted his weight, unbearably uncomfortable, wishing he hadn’t come. Natalia still didn’t speak. Then he decided he needed to do what he’d done when he played football. As a striker, he’d always been a straight player, no tricks, no clever moves. Just honest skill, raw talent driving the ball towards the goal. And that’s what he’d do now. ‘I know I hurt you when I pushed you away from me in the airplane.’

‘Fortunately I don’t bruise easily.’

Frustration bubbled through him. He knew what she was doing. Like any good defender, she was keeping him from an easy, direct goal. Had he thought saying sorry would actually be enough? ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’

She lifted her chin another notch. ‘Like I said, you didn’t.’

‘You know that’s not what I mean.’ She said nothing, but he sensed her tension, felt it in himself. He felt his heart race the way it had when he was seconds away from a goal. ‘I … I care about you, Natalia.’

She stilled, but her expression didn’t change. ‘Thank you,’ she finally said, and Ben nearly had to keep his jaw from dropping in furious disbelief. Thank you? Definitely not the response he’d been going for. Hoping for. He felt like he did on the football pitch in an offside trap. He’d moved too far forward to attempt a goal and she’d moved back, leaving him offside and out of play. Useless. Vulnerable.

‘I didn’t expect to,’ he continued, still trying to explain, to somehow redeem this conversation. ‘I didn’t want to.’

‘That,’ Natalia said coolly, ‘is glaringly apparent.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Is that all you had to discuss? For as I said before, my guests will be arriving at any moment.’

Ben felt a slower anger start to burn inside him. All right, maybe it didn’t sound like much, but he’d confessed more to this woman than he had to anyone else. He’d told her he cared and she’d said thank you.

He drew himself up, fury pounding like a pulse inside him. ‘Yes,’ he told her coldly, ‘that’s all.’ And he strode out of the room without looking back.

Natalia stood very still as she listened to Ben’s footsteps echo on the marble floor of the palazzo’s foyer. If she moved, she felt she might break. Shatter. It had taken all her self-control, all her experience in acting the haughty, aloof princess, to play that role. To act like she didn’t care.

And even now part of her wanted to wrench open the door and follow him through the palazzo, panting about how she cared too. And maybe even more than that.

No. She would not humiliate herself that way. She wouldn’t take the paltry scraps Ben was offering. The realisation had grown in her as he’d stumbled through his awful nondeclaration. This was not what she wanted. It was not enough. If she was going to risk herself, all her vulnerabilities, then she wanted more. She wanted to be known, accepted, loved. The realisation stunned her even as it felt achingly, unbearably right. Yet Ben had barely been able to form the word care. And then those qualifiers: I didn’t expect to. I didn’t want to. Had he actually thought he was saying something she wanted to hear?

She let out a shuddering breath and slowly drew herself up, shoulders back, head tilted. A princess. And a woman, she knew now, who wanted love after all, in all of its fearful beauty and wondrous glory. Not someone who reluctantly, resentfully cared.

Not, Natalia reminded herself, that she would get either. She was about to meet the ambassador of Qadirah, a small island principality in the Arabian Sea, with a thirty-year-old bachelor sheikh and heir to the throne. A possible husband, and she’d never even met him. She didn’t want to.

Walking stiffly, still aching, Natalia turned from the room.

The next day when Natalia arrived at the stadium the camp was in full swing, with Ben at its centre, working hard. She watched him run defense for Roberto, the boy he’d taken on as a young protegé. He was shouting instructions, sweat running down his face in rivulets. He looked amazing, but also angry. At least he had the football pitch to work out his frustrations. She’d had an interminable dinner with more veiled and not-so-veiled references to her salacious past, as well as a private conversation with the ambassador from Qadirah that had included a list of the sheikh’s expectations for a bride. Submissiveness and discretion had figured prominently, not two of her best-known qualities. Natalia had barely slept all night, and her body still ached from yesterday’s pummeling as goalie. Today was not going to be a good day.

Her fears were proved true just half an hour later, when a sudden cry sounded from the far side of the pitch and Natalia looked up to see a small knot of children and volunteers gathered around a fallen form. Her heart seemed to leap straight into her throat as she recognised the slight, scruffy figure. Roberto. Ben was bent over him, his face drawn and pale. Natalia knew immediately something very bad had happened.

Quickly she slipped out her mobile and dialed emergency services, requesting an ambulance. Then she hurried over to where Roberto lay fallen. One glance at the awkward angle of his leg told her that he had surely broken a bone. Ben looked up and caught sight of her and she saw a world of emotion in his dark eyes.

‘What can I do?’

‘Ring for an ambulance—’

‘I did.’

Ben looked back down at Roberto, his face contorting in anxious worry and guilt, and Natalia came closer. The boy’s face was pale and beaded with sweat, his teeth clenched. Natalia swept his silky fringe away from his forehead. ‘Fa a un male cane, eh?’ she said with a small smile. It hurts like a dog. ‘If it were me, I’d be screaming and crying. But then I’m not very good with pain.’ Roberto didn’t say anything, but he trained his pain-clouded gaze on her and Natalia kept speaking, barely knowing what she was saying, until she heard the wail of the ambulance’s sirens in the distance.

Ben escorted Roberto to the ambulance, and as he climbed inside he gave Natalia a fleeting yet grateful smile.

‘Thank you—’

‘What about the rest of the camp?’

‘I have to stay with Roberto,’ Ben said. ‘Can you manage?’

‘Right—’ Could she manage? A hundred children playing a sport she barely understood? Natalia straightened. ‘Of course I can.’

The mood of the camp as she returned to the pitch was subdued, the children still gathered in anxious clusters. Natalia gave them all her most cheerful smile and clapped hands. ‘Right. Everyone into a circle.’

She certainly couldn’t coach football, and frankly after the harrowing events of the morning she thought everyone could use a bit of a break. ‘Who knows how to play duck duck goose?’ she asked cheerfully, and proceeded to explain how to play.

They spent the afternoon playing party games, to the children’s delight and some of the volunteers’ chagrin, and even though Natalia kept up a steady stream of cheerful encouragement she felt tired and tense, longing to know how Roberto—and Ben—were both doing.

When the camp was finally dismissed for the day, she helped to clean up and then asked Enrico to drive her to the island’s main hospital, stopping on the way to pick up a few treats for Roberto. Ben wasn’t there, but she found Roberto’s parents waiting outside his room, looking tired and anxious. They stood, scrambling to attention as she approached them.

‘Your Highness …’

‘Scusi, scusi …’

She waved their protestations aside. ‘We don’t need to stand on formality here. How is Roberto?’ She listened as they explained that he had indeed broken his leg, but it was a clean break and should heal. He’d be in plaster for six weeks, with physical therapy afterwards. She saw them both exchange anxious looks, and thought they were probably concerned about the cost. Santina had a national health-care system, but they would surely have to take time off work to care for their son. She realised with a jolt that they were wearing royal uniforms, and knew they must have jobs in the palazzo.

‘Of course my father, King Eduardo, will want to help you with any costs associated with Roberto’s injury,’ she assured them, making a mental note to talk to her father about such a thing. She had no intention of making empty promises.

Roberto was asleep, but she left the basket of chocolate bars and comic books. Impulsively, as she got back in the car, she asked Enrico to drive her to the office.

Ben wasn’t there, but Mariana was, clearing up for the day. ‘Mr Jackson hasn’t been in the office today,’ she said when Natalia asked.

‘Do you have his home address?’

If Mariana was surprised by such a request, she didn’t show it. She looked it up on the computer and wrote it down, handing Natalia the paper. ‘I don’t know if he’ll be home.’

‘That’s all right,’ Natalia said with a breeziness she didn’t really feel. ‘I just wanted to talk to him about a few things.’

Back in the car again she gazed down at the written address, determined to still her hard-beating heart and make sense of the letters. She could do this. It just took time and concentration. ‘Via Ventoso,’ she finally told Enrico in triumph, and he started the car without a word.

Via Ventoso started in the city but then left the buildings behind for a stretch of empty road along the coast with only a few beach houses scattered among the rocks and palms. Enrico pulled into the shaded drive that led to Ben’s house, a sprawling structure of glass and natural rough-hewn stone. Natalia slid out of the car and then, impulsively—for this whole evening had been an impulse—she told Enrico he could go.

The chauffeur hesitated. ‘Are you certain, Your Highness?’

‘Yes … I’ll text you if you’re needed. Thank you, Enrico.’

She waited until the limo had disappeared down the twisting road before she turned towards the house. It looked depressingly dark and empty. What on earth had she been thinking, coming here unannounced? Ben was probably out at some important business meeting and she’d just stranded herself, at least for a little while. She wasn’t about to text Enrico five minutes after he’d left. She still had some pride.

She pressed the doorbell and listened to it echo through the house. She counted to ten, then twenty, and pressed it again. Counted again. Nothing.

Disappointment swamped her. Why was she here?

Desperately, and a little recklessly, Natalia turned the handle and to her surprise the door swung silently open. She stepped inside Ben’s house, her heart surely beating loud enough for him to hear, wherever he was.

She came straight into the living room, a large, airy space with a few modern leather sofas and some rather stark contemporary art. The room was dark and empty, yet Natalia still saw a few small signs of Ben’s presence: a pad of paper and a silver-plated pen on the glass coffee table, a paperback on the sofa. She crept closer and saw it was a rather light-hearted mystery. So Ben Jackson relaxed by reading a little fiction. The thought made her smile.

In the pristine kitchen she saw a coffee cup and cereal bowl washed and left on the dish drainer, and a bottle of vitamins by the sink, all fascinating glimpses into Ben’s neat and rather stoic existence.

Hesitating, knowing she was being incredibly nosy, Natalia finally moved down the hallway that could only lead to the bedrooms. Two of the bedrooms were empty and unused; the third and last clearly belonged to Ben. Natalia’s gaze swept the room but she could already sense it was empty. The king-size bed with its navy silk duvet had been made up with military precision. She saw some crumpled clothes in the corner, having missed the washing basket by about a metre, and a paperback by the bed. She crept closer and saw it was another light mystery. She smiled, imagined teasing him about his choice in reading material.

She peeked into the en suite bathroom, but it was also dark and empty. She saw a toothbrush, razor, a bar of shaving soap. The towels were hung to dry, the bath mat hanging off the edge of the tub. Ben, Natalia acknowledged without surprise, was a neat and rather Spartan man. He also wasn’t home.

She walked back out into the living room, wondering where he was. What to do. She felt instinctively that he would not have left the door unlocked all day so he had to be nearby or else expecting to return soon. So should she wait? And why?

Just what was she doing here? What did she want?

Natalia pushed the uncomfortable questions aside and turned to stare moodily out at the white-sand beach that led right up to the sliding glass doors of the living room. Then with a jolt she saw that the door was partially ajar.

She slipped outside, kicking off her trainers that sunk into the sand. The sun was starting its descent towards the sea, streaks of vivid colour emblazoning the sky. Out here all Natalia could hear was the rattle of the wind in the palms and the gentle whoosh of the waves upon the sand.

As her eyes adjusted to the oncoming twilight, soft and violet, she made out a cluster of palm trees, a few scattered boulders and then Ben, sitting alone on the beach with his head in his hands.