Читать книгу The Scandalous Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Пенни Джордан - Страница 63

NATALIA woke slowly to sunlight, her body aching in the most amazing places. She shifted, felt Ben’s arm heavy across her and smiled. Memories of last night drifted through her mind in pleasure-splintered fragments, memories of an intimacy so incredible and life-changing she could hardly believe it was real. It had happened.

She turned so she could see Ben, his face relaxed in slumber, his lashes long and curly on his stubble-roughened cheeks. Still smiling she reached over and with one finger touched his mouth, the mouth that had kissed and loved her all over. Even now, in the safety of his embrace, the memories made her blush. This was all so new, not just Ben, but her. Who she was. Who she was with him.

Ben opened his eyes and blinked sleep from them before giving her a lazy smile. ‘Princess,’ he said, ‘are you checking me out?’

‘No—’ Natalia said instinctively, and his smile deepened.

‘You shouldn’t have told me how you go blotchy. I can tell when you’re lying.’ He pressed one finger to the now-rosy skin of her throat. Natalia let out a reluctant laugh.

‘All right, so I might have been checking you out,’ she said, staying flippant. ‘So what?’

‘I like it,’ he told her, and nuzzled her neck. ‘I like it a lot.’

‘Don’t get all arrogant on me now,’ she said, and Ben lifted his head to gaze at her steadily.

‘Trust me, Natalia, you keep me humble.’

She swallowed, moved by the sincerity on his face. In his eyes. He’d let go, she realised. He wasn’t letting the fear or lack of control keep him back, yet she still felt uncertain. Afraid. And she knew that wasn’t fair to him. Tentatively she touched his cheek. ‘I like it when you say my name,’ she whispered.

‘I like that you like it,’ he said, his eyes darkening, and then he captured her mouth in a consuming kiss. They didn’t speak any more for a little while.

Later, as she showered in Ben’s en suite bathroom while he saw to breakfast, Natalia heard himself humming. Felt herself smiling. Had she ever been this happy before? Had she ever felt this free, this loved?

Ben hadn’t said it, not really. Loving you. Last night had he simply meant physically, or something more? She could hardly ask for clarification of that statement. Yet she felt, with a fragile hopefulness, that he did love her. That last night he’d been showing he loved her, in so many ways.

But he doesn’t really know you.

The whisper slid slyly into her mind, filled it with the slow, seeping poison of doubt. Natalia stilled, tensed, the water from the shower still streaming over her. She knew she still had secrets, things she hadn’t told Ben, important things. And with that hidden knowledge came a lingering fear that this couldn’t last. It couldn’t actually be real. He’d tell her he’d changed his mind or he’d discover something that would make him change his mind… ?.

How could she trust him? She didn’t do trust. She’d learned at all of five years old that you didn’t show your weaknesses. You didn’t tell people your fears. Yet she’d been doing just that ever since she’d met Ben. Something in him—that quiet, rocklike core of steadiness—made her want to tell him. To reveal herself, even as she kept retreating and trying to cover her tracks. Cover herself.

Natalia leaned her head against the slippery tile and closed her eyes as the water streamed over her like tears. She didn’t know if she could do this. If she was brave enough to be honest, strong enough to be vulnerable.

Why does it have to be so hard?

She had no answer.

As Natalia came out of the bathroom, swathed in a huge terrycloth towel, she saw that Ben had laid out a clean T-shirt and shorts of his to wear. Natalia slipped them on, grabbing one of his belts to cinch at her waist for the clothes swam on her. Not the most fashionable of outfits, but it touched her that Ben had thought of it at all.

She followed the mouthwatering aroma of bacon and eggs frying to the kitchen, where Ben stood by the stove, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a worn grey T-shirt. Even now the sight of him, from his rumpled hair to his bare feet, made her mouth dry and her heart thud.

She loved him. She wanted to love him … if she’d let herself.

Why does it have to be so hard?

‘Hey.’ Her throat felt scratchy, her voice wobbly and she tried again. ‘That smells good.’

Ben glanced up, his eyes glinting as he took in her appearance. ‘I like your new look.’

She held out her arms, the T-shirt sliding off one shoulder. ‘They’re a little big.’

‘You look gorgeous.’ And she knew he meant it. Why was he being so nice? Natalia wondered. She was waiting for the sting. She was always waiting for it. She glanced away, anywhere but at him. ‘Coffee?’ Ben asked, and when she nodded he handed her a steaming mug which she took with murmured thanks, wrapping her hands around its comforting warmth.

She cleared her throat. ‘So.’

Ben glanced at her, amusement quirking his mouth and lightening his eyes. ‘So,’ he repeated, and inwardly she started to squirm.

‘This isn’t easy.’

‘No?’ He took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug.

‘I’m not …’ She took a breath, let it out slowly. ‘I’m not really used to this.’

‘I’m not either.’

She pursed her lips. ‘Why do you seem so relaxed then?’

He paused, seeming to weigh his words carefully. ‘Because last night made me happy.’

‘It made happy too,’ Natalia muttered. She could feel herself starting to blush again. Wonderful.

Ben smiled. ‘I know it did.’

‘I think your eggs are burning,’ she told him, and felt a rush of relief when he turned back to the stove. She was so not ready for this kind of honesty. Intimacy. It was entirely out of her experience, totally foreign to the way she normally operated. Defend. Deflect. Go on attack. Anything to keep people from getting close. From knowing.

She took a sip of coffee and wandered over to the sliding glass doors that led to the beach. The sunlight sparkled off the water, and she could see both her and Ben’s footprints in the sand, leading back to this door. Upstairs. Memories of last night rushed through her again and her throat tightened, her fingers clenching around the mug. Desire and dread, hope and fear, warred within her, an impossible tangle of emotions.

‘Breakfast is ready,’ Ben said, and she turned to see he’d placed two plates loaded up with eggs and bacon on the glass-topped table.

‘Fabulous.’ She wasn’t sure she could manage a mouthful, but she came to the table with her gamest smile. Not that she could ever fool Ben.

‘And I thought we could read the papers,’ Ben continued, smiling as he dropped two well-reputed papers on the table. ‘No paparazzi photographs, I promise.’

Natalia stilled, stared at those newspapers. Such a simple little thing. Reading the papers over coffee and eggs, sharing bits of news and toast with each other. What normal people did. What everyone else did. And virtually impossible for her.

‘Natalia?’ Ben prompted. She looked up, saw him frowning at her and she felt the pressure build in her chest.

It should be so easy to tell him. It could be. She knew he would show her compassion rather than contempt; she knew him—loved him—well enough to believe that. Yet she still couldn’t form the words. Bare her secret, her soul. It was just too hard. And she didn’t want to have him look at her with pity, couldn’t bear that now when she was already feeling so exposed and vulnerable.

‘What’s wrong?’ he said quietly and Natalia shook her head.

‘I can’t do this.’

‘Do what? Eat breakfast?’ He kept his voice light. ‘Read the paper?’

Yes. ‘All of it. This … playing at some kind of happy families. Being a couple. I can’t do it.’

Ben’s expression hardened even though she knew he was trying to stay reasonable. In control. As always. ‘Why not?’

‘I know it’s easy for you, Ben—’

‘It’s not actually.’

‘You seem to have fallen into the role of attentive boyfriend rather easily,’ Natalia snapped, and Ben’s eyes flashed temper.

‘You think it comes naturally, Natalia? You think I’m not trying? Because just like you, I’ve avoided relationships. Commitment. I’ve seen the train wreck of my parents’ marriage and I haven’t wanted anything like it. I’m still wary. Still afraid.’ His voice throbbed with both sincerity and anger and he let out a shuddering breath. ‘But I recognise that we have something between us—something I’ve never had with anyone else—and think I’d keep at it, see if it works. Why aren’t you?’

‘Because it won’t.’ The pressure in her chest was taking over her whole body, so every muscle and nerve ached with suppressed emotion. Something had to happen or she’d surely explode. ‘It can’t.’

‘You’re so sure about that, Princess?’

‘Yes, Ben, I am.’ She kept her voice cutting, as sharp as it ever was, a razor of remembrance that cut through the emotion, reminding them both of who they were and where they’d started. ‘Because I’m a princess, just like you said. And we don’t have a relationship, because—’ She took a breath, made herself make the final cut. ‘I’m about to marry someone else.’

She saw Ben draw back as if she’d punched him. For a second he looked shocked, devastated, and then he blinked, and the expression was wiped clean from his face. Natalia felt her breath come out in a tearing gasp and she stared back at him, her whole body taut and quivering with tension. ‘I see,’ he finally said, his voice utterly devoid of feeling. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t realise that.’ He sounded horribly, eerily polite, and Natalia just stood there as he nodded towards the door. ‘There’s not much else to say then, is there?’

‘No,’ she agreed, her voice a scratchy whisper. Yet words clambered inside her, clogged in her throat. There was so much more to say. It was just she was so afraid to say it.

Ben nodded again towards the door, a dismissal. Still trembling, her chin held high, Natalia walked towards the front door. She saw he’d left her trainers lined up neatly by the door, next to his, a small yet achingly painful thoughtfulness, and she blinked back tears. She imagined, for one blinding second, how things could be different. She imagined her sweater tossed carelessly on a chair, her shampoo and makeup scattered over his Spartan sink. Her life here. Her here.

Then, without looking at him, she reached for the trainers and slipped them on. Ben didn’t say anything. After an endless moment when her fingers fumbled with the laces she finally straightened, opened the door and walked out of his life. Ben stood in the centre of the dining room, the front door closing a final-sounding click that echoed through his heart. She’d left. She’d just … left.

And she was getting married.

What the hell …?

Ben raked his hands through his hair, stared in uncomprehending disbelief at the two plates of breakfast, the coffee, the papers. He’d envisioned a relaxed, enjoyable morning; he’d anticipated being real—being normal—with Natalia. He’d wanted that. He’d wanted that so much.

You seem to have fallen into the role of attentive boyfriend rather easily.

Shame and fury churned in his gut, pulsed through his blood. He had fallen into that role, a role he’d never wanted or envisioned for himself. A role he’d disdained. And yet with Natalia he’d been all too ready to imagine a life—a love—with her. It felt humiliatingly ridiculous. She hadn’t had any intention of taking what happened between them beyond last night … and he’d been picturing fairy tales. Happy endings. A relationship. His behaviour reminded him of his mother’s, always eager and willing to forgive. Willing to try again.

He wouldn’t be like that. He couldn’t.

And he wouldn’t even be given the opportunity. Natalia was getting married.

In one abrupt movement Ben cleared the plates from the table, dumped the eggs in the bin. Even these cleansing actions felt shameful, humiliating. How many meals had his mother made that his father hadn’t eaten? How many evenings had she waited for him, and he’d stumbled in late, drunk and smelling of another woman’s perfume? He loved his father; he’d forgiven the man his weaknesses, but that didn’t mean he’d ever intended to be like his mother.

And yet here he was, alone, abandoned, his heart aching.

No. His heart had nothing to do with this.

I’m about to marry someone else.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe in all the time he’d known her, she’d forgotten to mention such a relevant and important detail. It felt like a lie. He knew, of course, that her parents were intent on lining up spouses for all the Santina siblings. He would have expected, if he’d allowed himself to think of it, that they might have someone in mind for Natalia. The papers had been full of her broken engagement to a prince of some small European principality.

The papers.

Why hadn’t the newspapers, the tabloids, mentioned anything about Natalia’s forthcoming marriage? Why hadn’t King Eduardo announced it at Allegra’s party three weeks ago? Why had he never heard a whisper of it all this time?

Because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t happening. Not yet anyway.

His breath released in a shuddering rush as realisations clicked into place. Natalia had told him this wasn’t easy for her. He knew she was afraid. He understood that last night had been both wonderful and frightening for her, that the vulnerability of even an orgasm had shaken her.

And when she’d snatched the first excuse she could to allow her to walk out of here, he, frightened fool that he was, had believed her.

Ben straightened and smiled grimly. Natalia wasn’t going to get off that easily. Not by a long shot.

She hadn’t thought through things. Natalia realised that as soon as she returned back to the palazzo, having texted Enrico to pick her up. The chauffeur didn’t pass any judgements, but she could tell something was going on. Something was wrong.

So much was wrong. She leaned her head against the seat and closed her eyes, exhaustion and misery swamping her. She saw Ben’s shocked face in her mind’s eye and felt a rush of guilt as well. Yet she’d spoken the truth. She was going to be married, if not quite as soon as she made out. This thought only added to her unhappiness.

Yet the fact that she’d only told him about her possible marriage because she’d been afraid of what was happening between them needled her, burrowed under her skin, a jagged splinter that she could not ignore or remove.

She felt the tension snap through the air as soon as she entered the palazzo. One of her mother’s staff swooped down on her as soon as she arrived, informing her that Queen Zoe requested her presence immediately.

Natalia hurried to her bedroom and changed into a mint-green linen dress and matching high-heeled espadrilles. She could hardly face her mother in Ben’s T-shirt and shorts … even if she couldn’t resist pressing them to her face, as if she could still catch the faint scent of him, before dropping them determinedly in the corner of the room.

‘Where have you been?’ Queen Zoe demanded icily as Natalia entered her room.

‘I’m sure Enrico told you,’ Natalia replied. She was surprised at how calm she felt. Her confrontation with Ben had sapped all of her emotional reserves. He’d taken everything.

‘He said,’ Zoe informed her, ‘that he drove you to Mr Jackson’s house.’

‘Yes.’

‘And you returned to the palazzo this morning.’

Natalia met her mother’s narrowed gaze evenly. ‘Yes.’

‘Natalia, this behaviour …’ Her mother shook her head, her outrage turning to genuine distress. ‘It must stop.’

‘It has,’ Natalia said, even though she knew she and her mother were really talking about completely different things. ‘It’s over.’

‘Because,’ Queen Zoe continued, her voice hardening once more, ‘the Sheikh Prince of Qadirah has made an official offer. He is arriving this week to arrange the contractual details. As soon as those are settled, your marriage will be announced.’

Somehow Natalia dragged herself through the next few days. She kept mostly to her room, avoiding the flurry of activity the imminent arrival of the Prince of Qadirah seemed to cause. She tried not to think of Ben, but her mind—and body—betrayed her, both remembering how sweetly he had kissed her. Loved her.

And if she’d only had a little more courage she could have stayed. She’d have told him everything, and maybe … maybe they could have worked something out.

She knew the thought was foolish, the hope vain. She was about to be married. Even if she’d stayed, even if she’d trusted Ben, they would only have had a few more hours at best. A single morning. And maybe not even that.

Even if she wasn’t getting married, Natalia reminded herself, Ben had never actually said he’d loved her. I recognise that we have something between us—something I’ve never had with anyone else—and I’m willing to keep at it, see if it works. Not exactly a promise to build a dream on. A life on. What if he had decided it wasn’t working? What if this time he didn’t push her off his lap, but out of his life?

Perhaps, Natalia told herself as she prepared to go to camp on Monday morning, this was better. It was certainly safer. A marriage with the Sheikh of Qadirah would be cordial, convivial perhaps, but they would essentially lead separate lives, especially once she’d provided an heir. That much had been made clear to her by the ambassador. There would be no intimacy, no vulnerability, no knowing. And that, she told herself resolutely, was a good thing. Even if it didn’t feel like it was.

By the time Natalia arrived at camp a few days later she’d pushed all these thoughts away, had blanked her mind and her heart. It was surely the only way to get through the day.

Ben was busy on the pitch when Natalia arrived at the stadium. She made sure to keep away from him, helping out at the registration table, not looking at him as he issued orders. Perhaps she could get through this day without actually talking to him. The thought brought both sorrow and relief.

Of course she should have known Ben would never let her off so easily. He called her to him at the centre of the pitch late in the morning, the children gathered all around.

‘Princess Natalia and I will demonstrate how to guard the goal,’ Ben said in his careful Italian, a football in his hands. ‘An important skill, no matter what position you are playing. Sometimes in a match the goalkeeper is injured and another player has to substitute, so it’s always worth knowing how to do it.’ He nodded towards Natalia. ‘Princess Natalia will act as goalkeeper first.’

Fabulous. Just about the last thing she wanted was Ben kicking the football straight at her. Her head held high, Natalia marched towards the goal area and turned to face Ben. His face was grimly set, his eyes blazing determination, and she braced herself for a hard kick aimed at her head.

She should have known better than that. She should have known Ben better than that. He punted a soft kick straight to her feet, ridiculously simple for even her to trap.

‘Now that’s not going to happen too often,’ Ben told the children with a smile. ‘When players want to score a goal, they’re going to kick hard. They’re going to give it everything they’ve got, and you have to brace yourselves for that.’ He turned back to Natalia, and she tensed. ‘Ready?’ he asked her, and tersely she nodded.

He kicked the ball hard, but not too hard. With taut effort she was able to keep it from getting in the goal. Ben turned back to the children. ‘Now Princess Natalia really wants to keep me from scoring,’ he said with a smile, although Natalia detected a slight edge to his voice. ‘But sometimes, when a football is coming straight at you, and all you can see is that hard and fast-moving ball, you’re scared. That’s understandable. You’re afraid to commit to the maneuver.’

Natalia tensed again. She had a feeling Ben was talking about something more than football. Something a whole lot more personal. He raised his voice so every child could hear. So she could hear. ‘That’s when you’ve got to be brave,’ he said. ‘That’s when you’ve got to give this game everything you’ve got.’

Tears stung Natalia’s eyes. She hadn’t been brave. She’d been so afraid, but it was too late. The game was over for them, even if Ben didn’t realise it.

‘Now,’ Ben said, ‘it’s my turn. Princess Natalia will kick the ball to me.’ As he passed her the football, he murmured, ‘Kick it to the outside post, if you can.’

Natalia had no idea what he was getting at now, but she nodded. She thought she could manage that. She turned to face Ben, saw him prepare for the kick, his muscular body taut and achingly beautiful.

‘Sometimes,’ he said, his gaze fastened to hers, boring into her soul, ‘you’ve got to let yourself really go. More than you ever would. More than you want to.’ He nodded at her, and she kicked the ball to the corner of the goal.

Ben dived for it, the extension elegant and total, his body nearly parallel to the ground, his arms outstretched. He was completely committed to the dive. Everyone watched in awe as he caught the ball and fell to the ground, landing on his shoulder and side before rolling into a sitting position. He turned to the crowd of children with a triumphant smile.

‘You see? I didn’t even get hurt. At least, not more than a little.’ His gaze moved to Natalia, settled on her with unmistakable emphasis. ‘But it was worth it.’