Читать книгу Modern Romance August 2016 Books 5-8 - Дженнифер Хейворд, Louise Fuller - Страница 19

CHAPTER TEN

‘LISA, WE HAVE to talk about this. We can’t keep pretending nothing has happened.’

Lisa closed her eyes as Luc’s voice washed over her skin, its rich tone setting her senses tingling the way it always did. It made her think of things she was trying to forget. Things she needed to forget. She swallowed. Like the night of the ball when she’d let her raging hormones get the better of her and had ended up on the bed with him. When passion and anger had fused in an explosive sexual cocktail and, for a short and surreal period, she had found herself yearning for the impossible.

And now?

She turned away from the window, where the palace gardens looked like a blurred kaleidoscope before her unseeing eyes.

Now she felt nothing but a deep sense of sadness as she met his piercing sapphire gaze.

‘What is there left to say?’ she questioned tiredly. ‘I thought we’d said it all on the night of the ball. Considering what happened, I thought we’d adapted to a bad situation rather well.’

‘You think so?’ His eyebrows arched. ‘With me occupying my former bachelor apartments while you sleep alone in the marital suite?’

‘What’s the matter, Luc? It can’t be the sex you’re missing. I mean, it isn’t as if we were at it like rabbits before all this blew up, is it?’

‘There’s no need to be crude,’ he snapped.

If they’d been a normal couple Lisa might have made a wry joke about that remark, but they weren’t. They were about as far from normal as you could get—two strangers living in a huge palace which somehow felt as claustrophobic as if they were stuck in some tenement apartment.

‘Are you worried what people are saying?’ she demanded. ‘Is that it? Afraid the servants will gossip about the Prince and Princess leading separate lives?’ She pushed a handful of curls away from her hot face and fixed him with a steady look. ‘Don’t you think that’s something they should get used to?’

Luc clenched the fists which were stuffed deep in the pockets of his trousers and tried very hard not to react to his wife’s angry taunts. If he’d been worried about gossip he would never have brought her back here. He would never have... He closed his eyes in a moment of frustration. How far back did he have to go to think about all the things he wouldn’t do with her—and why couldn’t he shake off the feeling that somehow all his good intentions were meaningless, because he felt powerless when it came to Lisa?

He shook his head. ‘No. I’m not worried about what people are saying.’

‘Maybe you’re still regretting the other night?’ she said softly. ‘Wishing you hadn’t had sex with me?’

Luc swallowed as her words conjured up a series of mental images he’d tried to keep off limits but now they hurtled into his mind in vivid and disturbing technicolour. Lisa pushing him back onto the bed. Lisa on top of him in the billowing crimson dress, her face flushed with passion as she rode him. His mouth dried. He wanted to regret what had happened, but how could he when it had been one of the most erotic encounters of his life? He had felt like her puppet. Her slave. And hadn’t that turned him on even more? Dazed and confused, he had left their suite afterwards and stumbled to the library to discover that what she’d said had been true—that pregnant women did have sex. It seemed his wife had been right and there were some things he didn’t know about women.

Especially about her.

‘No, I’m not regretting that.’

‘What, then?’

His gaze bored into her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that Eleonora persuaded you to wear the necklace?’

‘Why bother shooting the messenger?’ she answered. ‘Eleonora might have had her own agenda but she wasn’t the one who made you react like that. You did that all by yourself.’ She glanced at him from between her lashes. ‘Did she tell you?’

‘No,’ he said grimly. ‘I overheard her saying something about it to one of the other aides and asked to see her.’

‘Gosh. That must have been a fun discussion,’ she said flippantly. ‘Did she persuade you that it had been a perfectly innocent gesture on her part? Flutter those big eyes at you and tell you that you’d be better off with her beloved Princess Sophie?’

‘I wasn’t in the mood for any kind of explanation,’ he bit out angrily. ‘And neither was I in the mood for her hysterical response when I sacked her.’

Lisa blinked. ‘You...sacked her?’

‘Of course I did.’ He fixed her with a cool stare. ‘Do you really think I would tolerate that kind of subversive attitude in my palace? Or have an aide actively trying to make trouble for my wife?’

Lisa didn’t know what to think. She’d been stupid and gullible in agreeing to Eleonora’s suggestion that she ‘surprise’ Luc, but she shouldn’t allow herself to forget why she had embraced the idea so eagerly in the first place. She had wanted to impress him. To show him she was willing to be a good wife and a good princess. And if she was being brutally honest—hadn’t she been secretly longing for some kind of answering epiphany in him? Hoping that the emotional tide might be about to turn with her first public presentation?

But it hadn’t and it never would. If anything, the situation was a million times worse. The sex had awoken her sleeping senses but highlighted the great gulf which lay between them. And wouldn’t she be the world’s biggest fool if she started demanding something from a man who was incapable of delivering it?

She stared at him. ‘So what do you want to talk about?’

Repressing another frustrated sigh, Luc met her gaze, knowing there was no such thing as an easy solution. But had he expected any different? She was the most complicated and frustrating woman he’d ever met. He gave a bitter smile. And never had he wanted anyone more.

When she had walked towards him at the Mardovian Embassy in her subdued wedding finery, he had made a silent vow to be the best husband and father he possibly could be, and he had meant it. Yet now he could see that it might have been a challenge too far. Because he didn’t know how to be those things. And for a woman who was naturally suspicious of men— He suspected that he and Lisa were the worst possible combination.

So did he have the strength to do what he needed to do? To set her free from her palace prison? To release her from a relationship which had been doomed from the start? It wasn’t a question of choice, he realised—but one of necessity. He had to do it. A lump rose in his throat. He could do it for her.

‘Do you want to go back to England?’ he questioned quietly. ‘Not straight away, of course. But once the baby is born.’

Lisa jerked back her head and looked at him with suspicious eyes. ‘You mean you’ll let me go?’

‘Yes, Lisa.’ He gave a mocking smile. ‘I’ll release you from your prison.’

‘And you’re prepared to discuss shared custody?’ Now she was blinking her eyes very hard. ‘That’s very...civilised of you, Luc.’

His mouth twisted. ‘None of this sounds remotely civilised to me—but it’s clearly what you want. And I am not so much of a tyrant to keep you here against your will.’

She lifted her clear gaze to him. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

He walked away from her, increasing the distance between them, removing himself from the tantalising danger of her proximity. But once he had reached the imposing marble fireplace, he halted, his face grave. ‘I guess we should look on the bright side. At least now we’ve had sex, it means that our marriage has been legitimised and our child will be born as the true heir to Mardovia.’

She stiffened, her lips parting as she stared at him. ‘What did you say?’

‘I was just stating facts,’ he answered coolly. ‘Up until the other night our marriage wasn’t legal because we hadn’t consummated it.’

‘Was that why you did it? Why you let me make love to you?’ she whispered, her face blanching. ‘Just to make our marriage legal?’

‘Please don’t insult me, Lisa. We both know why I had sex with you that night and it had nothing to do with legality.’ He met her gaze for a long moment before turning away from her. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me—I have a meeting with my ministers, which I really can’t delay any longer.’

Lisa watched him go but it wasn’t until he had closed the door behind him that she collapsed on the nearest chair as the significance of his words began to sink in. He was letting her go. After the baby was born, he was going to let her leave the island. She would no longer be forced to stay in this farce of a marriage with a cold man who could only ever express himself in bed. He would probably give her a house, just as he had given one to her sister, and she would be free to live her life on her terms.

So why did she feel as if someone had twisted her up in tight knots?

She forced herself to be logical. To think with her head instead of her heart. As Luc’s estranged wife, she would never again have financial worries. And she would work hard at forging an amicable relationship with Luc. That would be a priority. They wouldn’t become one of those bitter divorced couples who made their child’s life a misery by their constant warring.

But Lisa couldn’t shake off her sudden sense of emptiness as she went to her studio and looked at her sketches she’d been making for her next collection. Maybe she should make some more. Because what else was she going to do during the days leading up to the birth? Prowl around the palace like a bulky shadow, staring at all the beauty and storing it away in her memory to pull out on lonely days back in England—as if to remind herself that this hadn’t all been some surreal dream.

For the next few days she immersed herself completely in her work. She began drawing with a sudden intensity—her designs taking on clean new lines as she liaised with her workshop back in London about an overall vision for the new collection. She worked long sessions from dawn to dusk—punctuated only by brisk walks in the gardens, where sometimes she would sit on a stone bench and watch the sunlight cast glittering patterns on the sapphire sea far below—and tried not to wonder what her husband was doing.

Mostly he left her alone, but one evening he came to her studio, walking in after a brief knock, to find her bent over a swatch of fabrics.

‘Don’t you think you’re overdoing the work ethic a little?’ he observed, with a frown. ‘One of the servants told me you’ve been here since sunrise.’

‘I couldn’t sleep. And I’m nearly finished. I just want to get this last bit done.’

‘You’re looking tired,’ he said critically. ‘You need to rest.’

But this single concerned intervention had been the exception, because mostly she only saw him at mealtimes. Perhaps he was already withdrawing from her and preparing for the reality of their separation. And in truth, it was better this way. She spent a lot of time convincing herself of that. It was how it was going to be and she had better get used to it.

Dr Gautier visited daily, pronouncing himself quietly satisfied at her progress—and if he wondered why Luc no longer attended any of the appointments, he made no mention of it. That was yet another of the advantages of being royal, Lisa realised. People just accepted what you did and never dared challenge you—and that couldn’t be a good thing. It would make you grow up thinking that you could fashion the world according to whim. Wasn’t that what Luc had done by bringing her here and forcing her to marry him?

She was over a week away from her due date when the first pain came in the middle of the night, waking her up with a start. A ring of steel clamped itself around her suddenly rock-hard belly and Lisa clutched her arms around it in the darkness, trying to remember the midwife’s instructions. It was the early hours of the morning and the contractions were very irregular—she had plenty of time before she needed to let anyone know.

But as they got stronger and more painful, she rang for Almeera, whose eyes widened when she saw her mistress sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking forward and back.

‘Fetch the Prince,’ said Lisa, closing her eyes as she felt the onset of another fierce contraction. ‘Tell him I’m in labour.’

Luc arrived almost immediately, looking as if he’d just thrown his clothes on and not bothered to tidy his hair. His cell phone was pressed to his ear as he walked into the room, his gaze raking over her.

‘Dr Gautier wants to know how often the contractions are coming,’ he said.

‘Every...’ She gasped as she glanced at the golden clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Every five minutes.’

He relayed this information, slipping naturally into French before cutting the connection. ‘The ambulance is on its way and so is Dr Gautier.’

She gazed up at him. ‘My...my waters have broken,’ she stumbled.

He smiled. ‘Well, that is normal, isn’t it, chérie?’

His soft tone disarmed her and so did his confidence. It made her forget about the distance between them. And suddenly Lisa wanted more than his support—she needed some of his strength. And comfort. ‘Luc?’ she said brokenly as another contraction came—surely far sooner than it was supposed to.

He was by her side in an instant, taking her hand and not flinching when her fingernails bit into his flesh as another contraction powered over her. ‘I’m here,’ he said.

‘I’m supposed to have the baby in the hospital,’ she whispered.

‘It doesn’t matter where you have the baby,’ he said. ‘We have everything here you need. You’re going to be fine.’

And somehow she believed him, even when Dr Gautier arrived with another doctor and two midwives and said there was no time to go anywhere. All the things she’d read about were starting to happen, only now they were happening to her. At first she was scared and then it all became too intense to be anything but focussed. She tried to concentrate on her breathing, aware of the immense pressure building up inside her and Luc smoothing back her sweat-tangled curls. The medical staff were speaking to each other very quickly—sometimes in French—but Luc was murmuring to her in English. Telling her that she was brave and strong. Telling her that she could do this. She could do anything.

And then it was happening. The urge to push and being told she couldn’t push, and then being unable to do anything but push. Still gripping Luc’s hand, Lisa gritted her teeth and tried to pant the way she’d been taught—and just as she thought the contractions couldn’t get any more intense, her baby was delivered into the hands of the waiting doctor and a loud and penetrating wail filled the air.

‘C’est une fille!’ exclaimed Dr Gautier.

‘A girl?’ said Lisa, looking up into Luc’s eyes.

He nodded. ‘A beautiful baby girl,’ he said unsteadily, his eyes suddenly very bright.

Lisa slumped back against the pillows as a sense of quiet and purposeful activity took over. The intensity of the birth had morphed into an air of serenity as the doctor finished his examinations, and, now cocooned in soft white cashmere, the baby was handed to her.

She felt so light, thought Lisa as a shaft of something fierce and protective shot through her. So light and yet so strong. With unfamiliar fingers, she guided her daughter to her breast, where she immediately began to suckle. Dimly, she became aware that Luc had left the room and, once the baby had finished feeding, the midwives helped her wash and gave her a clean silk nightgown. And when she next looked up, Luc was back and it was just the three of them.

She felt strangely shy as he dragged up a gilt chair and sat beside her, his elbows on his knees, his palms cupping his chin as he watched her intently. Their eyes met over the baby’s head and Lisa suddenly felt a powerful sense of longing, wishing he would reach out and touch her. But they didn’t have that kind of relationship, she reminded herself. They’d gone too far in the wrong direction and there was no turning back.

‘We need to discuss names,’ she said.

‘Names?’ he echoed blankly.

‘We can’t keep calling her “the baby”. Are you still happy with Rose and then both our mothers’ names?’

‘Rose Maria Elizabeth,’ he said, his slow gaze taking in every centimetre of the baby’s face. ‘They are perfect. Just like her.’

‘Rose,’ Lisa echoed softly, before holding out the snowy bundle towards him. ‘Would you like to hold her?’

Luc’s hesitation was brief as he reached out but his heart maintained its powerful pounding as he held his baby for the first time. He had never known real fear before, but he knew it now. Fear that he would prove inadequate to care for this tiny bundle of humanity. Fear that he might say the wrong thing to the woman who had just blown him away by giving birth to her.

As he cradled his sleeping daughter and marvelled at her sheer tininess, he felt the thick layer of ice around his heart begin to fracture. He could feel the welling up of unknown emotion—a whole great storm of it—packed down so deeply inside him that he hadn’t even realised it was there. It felt raw and it felt painful, but it felt real—this sudden rush of devotion and a determination to protect his child for as long as he lived.

‘Thank you,’ he said softly, glancing up to meet Lisa’s eyes.

‘You’re welcome.’

He saw the cloud which crossed like a shadow over her beautiful face but there was no need to ask what had caused it. For although their child had been born safely and mother and daughter were healthy, none of their other problems had gone away. They were still estranged. Still leading separate lives, with Lisa no doubt counting down the days until she could return to England. Concentrating only on her shadowed eyes, he stood up, carrying Rose over to her crib and laying her gently down before looking at Lisa’s pinched face.

‘You’re exhausted,’ he said. ‘Shall I phone your sister and tell her the news and you can speak to her yourself later?’

She folded her lips together as if she didn’t trust herself to speak, and nodded.

Resisting the desire to go over and drop a grateful kiss onto her beautiful lips, he took one last look at her before walking over to the door. ‘Go to sleep now, Lisa,’ he said unevenly. ‘Just go to sleep.’