Читать книгу The Wedding Party Collection - Кейт Хьюит, Aimee Carson - Страница 68

CHAPTER FOUR

ALYSE FOLLOWED LEO out onto the beach, a violet twilight settling all around them as the sun started to slip beneath the sea.

The staff who had set up their table had all melted away, so they were alone with the flickering candlelight, a bucket on the sand with champagne chilling, the first course of crab salad already laid out on exquisite porcelain plates. It was the most romantic dinner Alyse ever could have imagined...and it felt like a minefield.

She had no idea how to act with Leo, especially after that kiss. Already she’d spent far too long reliving it—surely the most wonderful kiss she’d ever known—and thrilling to the undeniable realisation that Leo desired her.

How do you make something that’s been false, true? His words had buoyed her soul at that moment, because in all her naïve hope she’d thought he meant their relationship. Their marriage.

This is real.

Watching Leo stride along the shore away from her, Alyse had known then what he’d really meant: the only real thing between them was sexual attraction.

Still, it’s something, she told herself as she followed Leo out onto the twilit beach. It might grow into more. But only if given a chance...a chance Leo seemed determined not to take.

With a little bow, he pulled out her chair and Alyse sat down. ‘Wine?’ he asked, and she nodded.

He poured them both glasses and then sat across from her, sipping his wine as he gazed out at the sea, its surface now the inky violet of twilight.

He might not be willing to take that chance, she acknowledged, but she had to be. Taking a deep breath, Alyse gave him as bright a smile as she could manage. ‘So, what should we do tomorrow? Snorkel? Scuba? Hike?’

His eyebrows rose, his expression freezing for a second, so she almost laughed. ‘Don’t look so terrified,’ she said dryly, parroting his words from last night back at him. ‘I might have suggested macramé.’

‘Macramé? I’m not even sure what that is.’

‘Weaving with knots,’ Alyse explained. ‘It’s one of my passions. I was hoping you might share it.’ Leo looked so nonplussed that this time she did laugh, and the release felt good. Even better was his answering rasp of a chuckle.

‘You’re having me on.’ He shook his head, taking a sip of wine. ‘Six years and I had no idea you had a sense of humour.’

Because he’d never had the chance to find out, or the desire. ‘Well, we’ve never had a proper conversation before, not really,’ Alyse said. She was trying for light but her voice came out quiet, almost forlorn. She’d have to do better. ‘Not one about macramé, at any rate.’

‘I must admit, I’m relieved it isn’t one of your passions,’ Leo answered. He arched an eyebrow, and she was gratified by the lightness of his expression. ‘It isn’t, is it?’

‘No.’ A smile twitched at her mouth. ‘Definitely not one of them.’ Leo just nodded, and despite the obvious opening Alyse knew he wasn’t going to press. He would never press, never ask her about herself, what her passions or even her hobbies were. ‘So, scuba, then?’ she said, keeping her voice bright. ‘I’m not qualified, but I read that they have instructors here who can qualify you with a day course.’

Leo made a noncommittal noise and Alyse felt the hurt and anger return, filling the empty places inside her. ‘I think you’d enjoy scuba diving,’ she said, and heard a new sharp note enter her voice. ‘It doesn’t allow for any conversation.’

‘I have nothing against conversation.’

‘Conversation with me, then?’

He shook his head, annoyance sparking in his eyes. ‘Alyse...’

‘I just don’t see,’ she pressed on in a desperate rush, knowing she needed to say it, to get it out there, ‘why we can’t be friends. Our marriage is unconventional, I know. I accept that. But we have to live together, Leo. We have to have a life together of some description. And I would like to do that as—as your friend.’

Silence. Leo said nothing, just eyed her over the rim of his wine glass. Why, Alyse wondered, did such a benign offer of friendship make her feel so vulnerable? So needy and demanding?

Because Leo obviously didn’t need anyone, and certainly not her. Not even as a friend.

‘Say something,’ she finally said, just to break the awful silence.

‘I don’t know what I could say that you’d wish to hear.’

‘At this point, anything is better than nothing,’ she answered tartly.

‘I’m not sure it’s possible,’ Leo said, each word chosen carefully, ‘for us to be friends.’

‘Not possible?’ She stared at him in confusion. ‘Why?’

‘Because,’ Leo replied, his voice still so terribly careful, ‘I have no wish to be friends with you.’

As soon as he said the words, Leo realised how cruel they sounded. Cruel and deliberately cold...and he hadn’t meant it quite like that. Had he?

From the moment Alyse had started teasing and tempting him in turns—asking for things he didn’t know how to give—he hadn’t known what he meant. How he felt.

And as for the look on Alyse’s face... She looked stunned for a moment, and then he saw a flash of hurt darken her eyes before she turned her face away, her expression hidden in the dark.

‘Alyse...’ he said, although he had no idea how to explain himself, or even if he could. In any case, he didn’t get a chance.

With a small sound of distress she rose from the table and walked quickly across the beach, her slight form soon swallowed up by darkness.

Irritation mixed uncomfortably with an already increasing guilt—and a wretched sense of disappointment in himself. He should have handled that better. He should have known how.

He threw his napkin down and rose, his hands braced flat on the table. ‘Where are you going?’ he called, and from the twilit shadows he heard her muffled response.

‘If you’re worried I’m going to do something indiscreet, never fear. I just couldn’t bear sitting at the table with you.’

His lips twitched with a sudden, macabre humour. ‘I’m not surprised.’ She didn’t answer and he sighed wearily. ‘I can’t even see you,’ he said, taking a few steps towards her. The sand was cool and silky under his bare feet. ‘Where are you hiding?’

‘I’m not hiding,’ she snapped, and as he moved closer to the sound of her voice he saw she’d gone to the far side of the little cove, her back to him and the sea as she stood facing the rocky outcropping, her shoulders hunched, her arms wrapped around herself. There wasn’t really anywhere else for her to go.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said after a moment. ‘That came out wrong.’

‘Was there really room for misinterpretation?’

‘I only meant I think it would be easier if we didn’t attempt to be friends.’

She let out a harsh bark of disbelieving laughter and turned around. ‘Easier? For you, maybe.’

‘Yes, for me.’ He shifted his weight, his hands digging into his pockets. ‘I don’t think I need to remind you that this marriage was never meant to be anything but a matter of convenience, Alyse. A business deal.’

‘That doesn’t mean it can’t become something else,’ she said quietly. ‘Something more.’

Something more? Even though he’d begun to suspect she harboured such hopes, the possibility still appalled him.

‘Clearly you find that notion horrifying,’ she continued, a hint of mockery in her voice. ‘I’ve reduced you to silence.’

‘It’s unexpected,’ he answered carefully. ‘I’ve thought we’ve been in agreement about what our marriage would look like.’

‘Considering we never discussed it, I don’t know how we could be, or why you would think so.’

‘Considering we both agreed to play-act at a relationship for six whole years,’ he retorted, ‘I’m not sure why you think it would suddenly change now, or why either of us would want it to.’ He stared at her, her chin tilted in determination or maybe even defiance, her eyes sparking silver. Frustration flared within him; this was so unexpected. And he hated how it made him feel—cornered, angry and, damn it, uncertain. He’d been so sure about what he wanted—and what he didn’t want.

Why was this woman he’d thought he knew so well—that was, not at all—changing and, far more alarmingly, making him change?

He straightened, arms folded. ‘We both got what we wanted out of this union, Alyse.’

She lifted her chin a notch. ‘Which is?’

‘To restore the monarchy’s reputation and provide an heir.’

‘Ah, an heir.’ She folded her arms, mirroring his own implacable stance, and stared him down. ‘And sex with you is such an appealing prospect, considering you just told me you have no interest at all in getting to know me.’

‘I don’t know why it would make a difference,’ he answered coolly, and she let out a high, wild laugh.

‘I should have known you’d say something like that.’

Leo raked a hand through his hair. He needed to perform some damage control, and quickly. ‘Look, I told you, I didn’t mean it quite like it sounded. I just never thought about—about friendship.’

‘Actually, I think you did mean it. You just didn’t mean for it to sound as brutal as it really is.’ She walked past him back to their table, her dress nearly brushing his legs, and he inhaled the scent of sunshine and sea as she passed.

After a moment Leo followed her back to the table; she’d sat down and was eating her salad with a methodical diligence that suggested no enjoyment in the food at all.

Leo sat down as well, although his appetite had, annoyingly, vanished. Gazing at her pale, drawn face, he still felt guilty, as if he’d disappointed or even hurt her somehow. It was a feeling he’d experienced in varying degrees since they’d said their marriage vows, and he didn’t like it.

He didn’t want her to be hurt, and more to the point he didn’t want to care if she was. Yet somehow he knew both were true, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

‘I honestly didn’t mean to offend you,’ he finally said, his tone terse, when Alyse had ploughed through half her salad. His remained untouched.

‘I suggest we be friends and you say you have no interest in such a thing,’ she returned, not even looking up from her food. ‘How is that not going to be offensive?’

‘You took me by surprise,’ he snapped, goaded into revealing a temper he’d barely known he had. ‘For six years we’ve been as strangers to each other, and you seemed fine with that. Why should I expect anything to change now?’

‘Because we’re married.’

‘It’s nothing more than a promise and a piece of paper,’ Leo said brutally, his temper now well and truly lit. ‘It doesn’t actually change anything. It doesn’t have to.’

She looked up then, her face pale, her lush mouth bloodless. ‘Because you don’t want anything to change.’

‘No, I don’t.’

She shook her head slowly, biting those bloodless lips as she looked away. ‘Why not?’ she asked softly. ‘What do you have against me?’

‘Oh, for...’ He sighed wearily. ‘Nothing. I don’t have anything against you.’

‘Just women in general, then?’

Leo suppressed a curse. ‘No, I have no problem with women, Alyse. I don’t have a problem with anything. I simply want what I thought we’d agreed on all those years ago—a relationship of convenience, managed and manufactured for the sake of restoring the monarchy.’

‘Do you really think I care about the monarchy?’ she asked, her voice turning ragged with emotion, reminding him of ripped and ruined things, things torn by desire and broken by need.

He’d felt it once in himself, long ago, that endless ache of disappointment and sorrow. He intended never to feel it again, and he certainly didn’t want it coming from his wife. The whole point of this marriage had been to avoid such messiness, such pain. That was the benefit of pretending, never mind the cost.

‘I suppose you care,’ Leo answered evenly. ‘Since you agreed to marry me and perpetuate this charade.’

She glanced away, and in the darkness he could not make out her expression at all. ‘I’ve never cared about the monarchy. Or being queen. Or—any of it.’

The bleakness of her tone had the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. He believed her, and he didn’t want to. It would be much simpler to believe she’d agreed to their arrangement because of the material benefits she’d enjoy. So much simpler. ‘Then why did you agree to a pretend engagement? A pretend marriage?’ he asked, the words drawn from him reluctantly. It was a question he’d never asked her, never wanted to ask her. It had been enough that she’d accepted. Now, with an increasing sense of foreboding, he braced himself for her answer.

‘Why?’ Alyse repeated, and her voice sounded far away, her face still averted. She let out a long, shuddering breath. ‘It doesn’t really matter now.’

And, even though he knew that was no answer at all, Leo chose not to press. He really didn’t want to know.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment, the silence strained and somehow sad. Then Alyse turned to him, her expression carefully veiled, yet Leo still felt the hurt emanating from her. It exasperated him, how much he felt now, both from her and in himself. For years he’d managed perfectly well, not feeling anything. Not wanting to.

‘I still don’t see how friendship will complicate things,’ she said quietly. ‘I would have thought it would make things easier. We’re going to spend the rest of our lives together, after all. We are, God willing, going to have children—’ She broke off suddenly, her voice having turned ragged again, and he could feel the need pulsing through her.

That was why friendship would complicate things—because it would open a door he’d kept firmly and forever shut. ‘You knew all this before, Alyse,’ he said. ‘You knew what you were getting into. What you were agreeing to.’

‘Knowing something and actually living it are two different things.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Do you really not feel any differently, Leo? That actually being married makes a difference?’

He wanted to say no. He should say no, and nip all this talk of friendship and feelings in the bud. Yet he couldn’t because, damn it, he did feel differently. He just didn’t want to.

Impatiently, he tossed his napkin on the table. He’d barely touched his meal, but he wasn’t hungry. ‘Look,’ he said flatly. ‘The reason I said what I said is because I’m not sure I can even be your friend.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I don’t— I’ve never really had a friend before.’ That sounded so utterly pathetic, he realised furiously. He hated, hated that she’d driven him to such a confession.

Alyse gaped at him, her jaw dropping inelegantly. ‘You’ve never had a friend?’ she said in disbelief, and Leo felt his own jaw bunch, teeth grating.

‘Not really.’ He was lying, though. He’d had one friend at least—the best friend and brother whom he’d loved more than anyone else. The one person he’d been real with, the one person he’d trusted.

And look how that had turned out. The most real relationship he’d ever had had turned out to be as fake as all the others.

‘Why not?’ she asked and he just shrugged. She waited: a stand-off.

‘When you live your life under the microscope, genuine friendship isn’t easy to come by,’ he finally said, his voice brusque. When you lived your life in the spotlight. When the only time anyone was interested in affection or emotion was for the cameras...

He wasn’t about to explain all that. How could he? He’d hated the glare of the spotlight, yet he’d chosen it for himself and his marriage. Willingly...because at least then he was in control.

Yet he didn’t feel much in control at the moment. He felt as if it had been slipping away from him ever since he’d stood next to Alyse in the cathedral and said those vows.

‘Even so,’ she said, and he heard damnable pity in her voice. ‘I would have thought there would be someone—’

‘I haven’t lived in complete isolation.’ He cut her off, his voice coming out in something close to a snap. ‘I’ve had acquaintances, servants, staff...’

‘It’s not the same.’

‘Probably not. But you don’t miss what you’ve never had.’ Except he’d had it, and he knew he would miss it if he let himself—which he never did.

Alyse was silent for a long moment. Her expression had turned thoughtful, her head tilted to one side as her quiet gaze swept over him. Leo felt as if he were under a searchlight. ‘Do you think,’ she finally asked, ‘you might be willing to try with me?’

‘Try what?’

‘Being my friend. Letting me be yours.’

Leo felt his jaw bunch harder and he wiped a hand over his face. ‘Next we’ll be painting each other’s nails and doing—what was it?—macramé?’

A tiny smile hovered on Alyse’s lush mouth and despite all the wretched emotion between them Leo felt his libido kick in hard. ‘I promise, no weaving. Or nail varnish.’

‘Right.’ He tried to smile in response but somehow he couldn’t. He couldn’t take any more of this: not the emotion, not the honesty, not the damn intimacy. He felt as if he was going to burst out of his skin.

He turned resolutely back to his meal. ‘Snorkelling sounds like a plan,’ he said gruffly. Just as Alyse had said, you couldn’t talk with a tube in your mouth. And, from the way her mouth turned down at the corners, Leo had a feeling she’d guessed the exact nature of his thoughts.