Читать книгу Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 76

HE SHOULD have left her alone, should have let her nurture her anger with him and left it at that. He shouldn’t have planned to have dinner with her, shouldn’t have asked her to dress up for him, and shouldn’t have sat for more than an hour talking with her about anything and everything, listening to her bright laughter and falling just a little more under her spell with every word.

Raj shook his head as he stood on the terrace and let the wind whip through his clothes. It was hot and humid, but the breeze took it all away, for a short time anyway.

Why couldn’t he simply leave well enough alone? He’d hurt her when he’d taken her body, and he’d hurt her when he’d betrayed her trust and brought her to Goa against her will. Tonight, he’d hurt her again when he’d been unwilling to tell her why he didn’t feel at home anywhere, why he couldn’t settle into a family life.

Things with Veronica had gotten out of control much too quickly. He’d broken his own code of conduct when he’d gotten involved with her, and he was willing to break it again for one more night in her arms. The truth was that he’d sell his soul for one more night with her.

He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.

She wasn’t like other women. He’d had relationships, some lasting for several months as he’d stayed put in one location or another, but he’d never felt as if his skin was itching on the inside, as if only one woman could soothe the restlessness that plagued him.

It was simply the circumstances of their meeting, he told himself. He’d expected a spoiled, useless brat who’d somehow fooled an entire nation—but he’d found a thoughtful, intelligent woman who hadn’t led a perfect life, but who wanted very much to do a perfect job.

He admired that. Admired her. Two days ago, he’d have never thought that possible.

She’d experienced great sorrow in her life, but she hadn’t let it beat her down. Her spirit was unbroken, though perhaps sorely tested.

She’d trusted him, in more ways than one, and he’d broken that trust. He didn’t like the way that made him feel.

With a curse, Raj strode into the house and to her bedroom door. She’d only been gone for a half an hour or so. She might be in bed, but he would bet she was still awake. He knocked softly.

When she didn’t answer, he knocked again, more loudly. Still nothing.

His heart kicked up. There was nowhere she could go really. They weren’t on an island, but there was nothing for miles—and he did have security on the perimeter. He’d given her the illusion of complete freedom, but he wasn’t so incautious as to leave her unguarded.

Even here.

With a curse, he pushed on the handle … and the door swung inward. The doors to the terrace were wide-open, the white curtains blowing in the breeze. She wasn’t in bed, or in the en suite bath. He slipped out onto the terrace—a different terrace than the one they’d had dinner on, facing a different direction—but she wasn’t there, either.

She was still on the premises, or security would have alerted him. He eyed the path that sloped down to the beach and knew instinctively where she’d gone.

Heart lodging in his throat, he took the path at a run and skidded down the hill. Veronica was not so stupid as to try and escape, was she? Because though she wouldn’t get away, she might very well harm herself in the process.

And he couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.

At the bottom of the hill, the path abruptly ended in sand. He stood, looking in both directions, his ears straining to hear anything over the sound of the sea caressing the shore. A flash of something caught his eye and he took off in that direction.

He was only a few feet away when he heard singing, and he crashed to a halt. Relief flooded him as she turned her head, the moonlight catching her blond hair.

“Veronica,” he said, and the singing stopped.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She turned to face him, her pale arms wrapped around her chest. “How about you?”

He wanted to laugh in agreement, and he wanted to snatch her into his arms and hold her tight. “You’re still in your evening gown,” he said, noticing with a jolt the way her creamy thigh split through the fabric as she took a step forward. Her feet were bare, her legs so long and perfect. He could still feel them wrapped around his waist, could feel how they’d trembled and stiffened when he’d brought her to orgasm.

He wanted that again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” It was the thing he’d wanted to say, the reason he’d gone to her room in the first place.

“For what, Raj?” Her voice sounded tremulous, as if she were trying very hard not to allow any emotion to escape.

“For everything,” he said. “For bringing you here. For making love to you—”

She laughed, the sound bitter. “Of course,” she said, “of course. Because it would be better if you had not done so, correct? I corrupted you, corrupted your squeaky-clean morals—”

“Stop it,” he said harshly. “I made love to you because I wanted to. But I shouldn’t have been so weak. I should have resisted.”

“Yes, of course.” She turned toward the sea again, but he could see the lone tear that slid down her cheek. “I’m not the sort of woman a man resists, am I? But I am the sort he regrets.”

“I don’t regret it,” he growled. But he did. He regretted that he’d been so weak in the first place, that he’d been unable to resist and that he’d hurt her in the process.

“Don’t bother explaining,” she said. “I understand.”

He reached for her, his fingers closing around her bare arm. She was delicate, like spun glass in his hand. He feared that if he held her too tightly, she’d break.

“You understand nothing,” he said, turning her to face him. He was careful not to pull her closer, though he wanted to.

“Oh, Raj,” she said, her voice carrying to him on the sea-scented breeze, “I’m not sure either one of us understand.”

“Then tell me what I need to know,” he replied. Because he very much wanted to know what made her tick. There was the baby, her loss—and yet there was more. He wanted to know everything, though a small voice told him it wasn’t a good idea.

The less he knew, the better in the end.

Her hand came up, her fingers sliding along his jaw. Her touch was like fire, like ice. She burned him, and he wanted nothing more than to keep burning.

“I’m so angry with you,” she said, “and yet I can’t help but want you, too. Why is that? Why can’t I resist you?”

Her admission sent a current of hot possessiveness through him. His body hardened. He turned his head, kissed her palm. She did not pull away. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled in the night, diamond-tipped with tears.

He had done that to her. But no matter how much he wanted her just now, he couldn’t make her cry again. Because she would. He would walk away in the end, and she would cry.

And he didn’t want that. Somehow, he had to find the strength to let her go.

Before this got any more complicated than it already was.

“I only want what’s best for you, Veronica,” he said. “If I had let you go to Aliz and something happened, I would never forgive myself.”

Her laugh was strangled. “My God, you sound just like my father.” Her hand dropped and her head tilted back. Her gaze sparkled up at him. “He kept me locked up until I was eighteen, until I was old enough to leave home and do what I wanted to do. His excuse was that he loved me. And he did, I know that. But it was horrible, Raj, horrible to be kept prisoner to someone else’s fears for so long.”

So much about her made sense now. Her wild life, her rebellion, her refusal to take a backseat while someone else steered the cart. She wanted a say because she was frightened of giving up control. He could understand that. Could empathize with it. He thought of her last night, on the plane, and felt guilty.

“This isn’t the same,” he said gently—justifying his actions, yes, but also because it was true. “There is a real threat to your safety, especially if you return to Aliz while it’s in chaos.”

She pushed a lock of hair that had blown into her face back over her shoulder. Her brows were pinched together, her eyes narrowed.

“I know that,” she said finally. “I was angry with you—I’m still angry that you didn’t consult me—but I know you did what I asked for when I accepted your help.”

“Your safety is my priority, Veronica. No matter how angry I make you, or how much you might hate me for it.”

She shook her head, looked away. “I don’t hate you. Though it might be easier if I did.” She drew in a long breath. “You kept me safe, and you did so when I was determined to put myself—and my people—in danger.”

“I’d do it again, if the circumstances were the same.”

“I know that, too.” Her head dropped as she fixed her gaze on the sand at her feet. He wanted to pull her close and kiss the top of her head, but he did not do so. He stood with arms hanging at his sides.

He felt … useless in some ways. He’d brought her here, but he hadn’t yet found who’d sent her the note or placed the doll on her bed. She was safe, but for how long? If her government was restored and she returned to Aliz, then what?

She wouldn’t need him anymore. He would never see her again, except as a photograph in a newspaper.

She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I wish I’d met you earlier, under different circumstances. Maybe neither of us would have any regrets then.”

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and lifting a strand of her hair. He loved the silken feel of it, the bright pale color. In the moonlight, it hung down her back like ropes of gossamer ribbon.

“Life is filled with regrets,” he said.

He couldn’t imagine not being able to touch her like this. He didn’t want to imagine it.

She let out a deep sigh that slashed into his control. “Oh, Raj, if we don’t learn from our mistakes, then what is the point?” He froze as she reached for him, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck while the other gripped his arm to steady herself as she stood on tiptoe.

He didn’t resist as she pulled him down to her, didn’t resist as her lips brushed his. He didn’t close his eyes because he wanted to see her face while she kissed him. Her lashes dipped down, fanning long and silky beneath her eyes as her mouth skimmed across his.

The pressure was light, so light. Unbearable. He wanted to crush her to him, wanted to slide his tongue between her lips and feel her response.

“It’s too late,” she whispered against his mouth a moment later. “As you’ve pointed out more than once, you aren’t the right man.”

She took a step backward, breaking the contact, and then turned and started down the beach. He watched her as she found the path back up to the house, his heart a lead weight in his chest. He’d wanted her to realize the truth, hadn’t he?

She had finally done so. And he wanted to howl.

Veronica found her way blindly up the side of the hill, then stumbled into her room and slapped the doors closed. Tears pricked her eyes. She was tired of fighting them, so she let them fall.

She’d lied. She’d stood there and lied to him when she’d told him he wasn’t the right man. Because he was the man her heart wanted, though she tried to deny it. She’d realized it tonight, and she’d been running from the truth of it when she’d gone down to the beach.

How could she be so stupid? How could she have allowed herself to fall for him?

It was too soon.

He was too much.

He stunned her, quite simply. He was insightful, tender and tough. He made her feel safe. He’d even made her feel loved, though she knew he didn’t love her.

But he was also wild, untamable. She’d known it, and yet she’d insisted on lying in the tiger’s jaws. When he chewed her up and spit her out, she had no one to blame but herself. She stood in the middle of the room, tears falling as she dashed them angrily away, and wanted to scream. She’d been just fine until he’d come into her life! She’d been getting through the days, trying to heal, trying to live.

He’d ripped everything open again, made her feel, made her ache and want and need and love.

After a while, Veronica went into the bathroom and washed her face with cold water. Then she stripped off her gown and dropped it on the bed.

The bed was huge, a solid carved four-poster with white filmy netting hanging from it—and no way was she staying here tonight. No way was she sleeping in this giant bed, with Raj in the same house, knowing she couldn’t go to him.

Knowing he would not come to her.

Veronica found a thin silk robe in her luggage and wrapped it around herself. Then she slipped into the hallway and toward the front doors. She would go down to the cottages, find Martine’s quarters and sleep there tonight. If she were not under the same roof with Raj, she could breathe again. She could think and feel and not ache so much.

She found the front door and jerked it open—

Raj was standing on the other side, his hand poised over the handle. They stared at each other without speaking. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and her heart lodged in her throat. A pair of pajama bottoms sat low on his hips, the drawstring tied just loosely enough to allow his lean hip bones to protrude.

Not to mention the ridges of his abdominal muscles, so hard and tight beneath his broad chest. Her mouth went dry. Her brain refused to function. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, one eyebrow lifting sardonically.

“Yes,” she managed to respond, her voice croaking out as if she’d been traveling across a desert with nothing to drink. She swallowed. “I was going to find Martine.”

“Isn’t it a bit late to dictate a letter?”

She couldn’t admit to him that she’d wanted to escape this house. Wanted to escape him. It would give him too much power over her. As if he didn’t have enough already. As if she weren’t teetering on the edge of something that would change her forever.

“I thought of something important,” she lied, lifting her chin.

“It’s a distance to the cottages.” His gaze slipped down her body. “And there are things you might not wish to meet in the dark. Especially dressed like that.”

“I went to the beach in an evening gown,” she pointed out.

“Not as far. Or as rich with vegetation.”

She wanted to argue, but she took a step back, defeated. She wanted out, but she wasn’t stupid. Who knew what manner of creatures waited on the path to the cottages? Bugs? Stinging bugs? Cobras?

Veronica shivered.

Raj came inside and closed the door. Locked it.

Her heart thundered in her ears. He was so close. Once more, so close. He smelled delicious, like the sea and wind and India.

“You’re upset,” he said softly.

“I’m not.”

He lifted a finger, skimmed her cheek, tipped up her chin so he could look down into her eyes. The light in the entry came from the living area, warm and golden and spilling through the prism of glass that divided one area from another. Her breath stopped in her chest. Time seemed to stretch out between them, so fine and thin, like the thread spun out by the mythical Fates.

But would one of them cut it, or would it continue to spin?

“You make me want things I shouldn’t,” he said, his voice so husky and deep.

Her heart pounded in her temples, her throat, between her legs. “Who says you shouldn’t? You? Are you not in control of your own destiny?”

His laugh was part groan. “You make it sound so simple, like one simply reaches a decision and starts down a new path.”

“Don’t they?”

“You know it’s not true. You know that life throws things at you, and you do the best you can to deal with them. If you’re lucky, you figure out what works for you, and you stick with it.”

It was her turn to laugh. “And how is that working for you, Raj? Because I have no idea what I’m doing from one day to the next sometimes. Maybe I should try your method.”

His expression was troubled in the dim light. “You confuse things, Veronica.”

A pinprick of pain pierced her, the hurt rippling outward as if someone had thrown a rock into a pond. “Don’t patronize me. I’m not stupid, and I’m not confused.”

“You confuse things for me,” he said. “You make me question myself.”

“Everyone should question his paradigm from time to time.”

“Are you questioning yours?” he asked, taking a step closer to her. “Am I still the wrong man?”

His mouth was so close now, and her body was sizzling with heat and memory and need.

“You’re completely wrong,” she said. “I don’t want you at all.”

His smile was self-assured. Feral and sexy. “You’re lying, Veronica.”

He tilted his head, studying her. She endured his scrutiny, her heart thundering, her skin begging for his touch.

Oh, God, she no longer cared. She just wanted him to touch her, to give her the bliss he’d given her two nights ago. She wanted to feel loved again, even if it wasn’t quite true.

She thought she would go mad waiting.

“What do you plan to do about it?” she said, a heaviness settling in her abdomen, between her legs.

He smiled again, only this time it was filled with regret. “Nothing. The desire will have to be enough for both of us.”

Furious tears stung the backs of her eyes. “Bravo, Raj. Once more, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself on the altar of altruism for my sake. Whatever would I do without you to make decisions for me?”

His growl was not what she expected, but it sent a thrill through her belly nevertheless. “You can’t have it both ways,” he snapped. “You can’t tell me I’m wrong for you and then look at me like I’m the only man who has what you need. So tell me what you want from me or get back to bed.”