Читать книгу Vows Made in Secret - Louise Fuller - Страница 8
ОглавлениеSHE STARED AT him blankly. Even? Even!
‘What that’s supposed to mean?’ She flung the words at him, wishing they were sticks or stones or better still bricks. But he didn’t reply. Instead he made an impatient sound and she watched helplessly as his face closed tight like a trap. Her muscles were aching with the effort of not picking up a lamp and beating him to death with it. How could he do that? Just switch off in the middle of a conversation and take himself outside of it?
Feeling a familiar cold, paralysing panic, she wrapped her arms around herself. But of course she didn’t need him to answer anyway. She knew exactly what he was talking about.
An undertow of defiance tugged at her frustration and slowly she shook her head. ‘No, Laszlo. If you’re talking about the fact that I ended our relationship, then we are not even. Not even close to being even.’
Her whole body was suddenly shaking and she wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. Walking away from Laszlo and from her romantic hopes and dreams had been hard—one of the hardest things she’d ever done—and it had taken every ounce of willpower she’d had. But if he’d wanted to, if he’d wanted her, he could have stopped her; she’d given him every chance to change her mind. Only he’d barely uttered a word when she’d told him that she was leaving him. Certainly not the sort she’d craved. He’d let her go and that had been his choice.
A sudden, suffocating misery reared up inside her as, with a shudder, she remembered just how cold and unapproachable he’d been.
She stood rooted to the spot, numbed and struck dumb at her own stupidity. No wonder he’d been so secretive—smuggling her into his trailer and carefully sidestepping her requests to meet his family. Fool that she was, she’d been too dizzy with love, too in thrall to the way her body had softened and transformed beneath his touch, to wonder why. Besides, she’d been flattered at the start, at least, for she’d believed that he wanted her all to himself. He’d stolen her heart and her virginity in quick succession and all the while he’d been living a lie.
She looked at him wearily. But why did this lie matter, really? After all, she couldn’t change the past. Or change the fact that he hadn’t loved her enough to fight for her. Her mouth twisted. This discussion was a dead end. There was no point in trying to talk about their relationship now: it was seven years too late. And besides, she had a new life now. Maybe not the one she’d been hoping for, but a good life, and she wasn’t about to let him pick up her world and smash it to smithereens.
Her pulse fluttered into life and she glanced at the door, wishing she could go back in time to the moment before she’d walked through it. And then, with a start, she remembered that even if that had been possible it simply wasn’t an option. Edmund needed this job. That was why she had come to Hungary. And she needed to focus on that fact and not get sidetracked into a post-mortem of her romantic past.
She took a calming breath. The cataloguing was more important than her feelings. Not that she had any feelings for Laszlo any more. At least not any that should get in the way of what was essentially a job like any other. Their relationship was history and, while clearly she would never have chosen to meet him again, let alone work with him, there was no reason not to treat him like any other client—albeit one who was difficult, bordering on the socially inept.
Fighting down the urge to bolt through the door, she lifted her chin and met his gaze. She wasn’t going to let his inability to let go of the past upset her. She would be calm and efficient—a detached professional.
‘This is getting us nowhere, Laszlo,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m here to do a job for you and your grandfather.’
Biting her lip, she paused, her muscles tightening again. Did Janos know about her relationship with his grandson? That could be awkward. But then her body relaxed. Somehow she didn’t think so. It was a long time ago, and they’d never met, and Laszlo had probably had hundreds of girlfriends since her. Her cheeks grew suddenly hot and quickly she pushed that thought away.
‘I know he wants to start on the cataloguing as soon as possible, so why don’t we put aside our differences and try and concentrate on making that happen for him? Can we do that? Can we call a truce?’ She gave a small, tight smile and clenched her hands into fists to stop herself from crossing her fingers.
Laszlo stared at her speculatively. She wanted this job. It was obvious from the conciliatory note in her voice and the slight increase in tension around her shoulders. His gaze drifted hungrily over her neck to the pulse beating in the hollow at the base of her throat. To anyone who didn’t know her she looked like the perfect English Rose, pale and demure. But he knew the other Prudence. The one beneath that calm, poised exterior, who had wrapped herself around him with passion and fervour. That contrast, and the knowledge that he alone possessed that other, hidden Prudence, had excited him unbearably. With a spasm of disbelief, he realised it still did.
Feeling his body stiffen, he lifted his gaze and smiled at her almost mockingly. ‘Since you put it so nicely—’
She stared at him warily. She hadn’t expected him to come round so easily. But then, with Laszlo you never knew what to expect. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I must say I’m a bit surprised—’
He smiled coolly. ‘I know how much women love surprises.’
Nodding, she forced herself to breathe slowly. Perhaps she could make this work. She just needed to stay focused on what was important: the fact that Laszlo was nothing more than a client. She looked up and found him watching her. A tingle of heat ran down her spine. She could almost see his desire—feel him wrapping it round her like a dark velvet cloak.
Her cheeks were burning. Quickly, before the sudden softness in his eyes could rattle her even more, she looked away. She was here to work and it didn’t matter that she and Laszlo had once shared a passion so pagan, so consuming, that the outside world had ceased to exist. Now their relationship needed to work only on a business level.
She met his eyes. ‘And I know men hate delays.’ She paused and cleared her throat. ‘So I suggest we discuss what happens now.’
Laszlo stared at her. A peony-pink flush had crept over the skin on her throat and his gaze drifted down over the pale grey blouse that clung to the soft swell of her breasts, then lower still to where the smooth downward curve of her hips and waist pressed tight against the fabric of her skirt. She was so close they were practically touching and, breathing in the familiar scent of jasmine, he found himself almost paralysed with longing again.
Breathing in sharply, he gritted his teeth. He had spent so long hating her, hating what she had done to him, that he had never supposed that he might still want her.
And yet apparently he did.
He stared at her, confused. He wanted her. But he also wanted to punish her. And yet even that wasn’t wholly true, for he couldn’t help but admire her. After all, how many other women—particularly one as shy and unworldly as Prudence—would stand their ground in this situation? Not that it surprised him. She had always possessed that quality of being in a state of quiescence, of teetering on the edge. His jaw tensed as her misty grey gaze rested on his face. Only now was not the time to be thinking about Prudence’s finer qualities. Better to concentrate on her flaws.
‘You tell me. Talking was always your thing, wasn’t it? For me, actions speak louder than words.’
He watched colour creep across her cheeks. Saw the moment that she relaxed, the tension leaving her body, making it softer and more vulnerable.
Prudence felt her cheeks grow warm. She needed no reminder of how eloquent his actions had been. Particularly not now, when she needed to keep her thoughts in some semblance of order. But his smile was like a beam of sunlight breaking through cloud. She just wanted to follow it...place herself in its path.
Focus, she told herself firmly. She cleared her throat and began to talk quickly. ‘As I said before, I know how keen your grandfather is to begin the cataloguing. So I think we should push on with the original timeframe.’
He stepped towards her and she tensed, her body suddenly a helix of tendon and muscle.
‘You’re the expert,’ he murmured.
Blushing, Prudence swallowed. His voice was such a captivating mix of soft and seductive. She felt heat begin to build inside her and for one brief moment allowed herself to remember the touch of his fingers, travelling over her skin with the virtuosity of a concert pianist. How the rippling rhythms of their bodies had quickened and intertwined to a breathless cadence.
Prudence took a deep breath. Surely she couldn’t still actually find him attractive? She must have more sense than that. But what had sense got to do with lust? No woman alive could stand next to Laszlo Cziffra and feel nothing.
Somewhere in the castle a door slammed and Prudence started forward with surprise. For a moment her hands grazed his chest as she swayed against him and then, breathing unsteadily, she teetered backwards. They were standing inches apart now. He was so close she could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart was pounding as though she’d been running and her body was trembling helplessly. He smelt of newly mown hay and rain-soaked earth and she felt almost dazed with longing as every inch of her reacted to him.
‘Castles were built to keep out arrows and cannon fire. Not draughts,’ he said drily.
Still horrified by the revelation that her body apparently had no loyalty to her heart, Prudence dragged her gaze away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed or, worse, correctly interpreted her physical response to him.
‘Weren’t they?’ she mumbled, her cheeks flushing. ‘Wh—what was I saying? Oh, yes. The timeframe. Three weeks is a typical estimate for a preliminary assessment. It’s important to be thorough at that stage.’ She frowned. ‘And don’t worry. If I have any problems I can speak to Mr Seymour. In fact, I’ll be in close contact with him the entire time.’ She gave a small, tight smile. ‘I find it helpful to have another point of view. For clarity.’
Her smile faded and she stared at him nervously, aware of a sudden stillness in him, a slight narrowing of his eyes, although she couldn’t quite understand what had changed. But then, why should she care? She was here to work, and Laszlo’s moods were no longer her concern.
Clearing her throat, she straightened her shoulders and forced herself to ignore the undertow of apprehension tugging at the back of her mind. ‘A-and obviously I’m happy to discuss any concerns Mr de Zsadany has,’ she stammered. His eyes clashed with hers and despite herself she felt another twinge of foreboding.
‘Obviously...’ he said coolly. ‘I know how you love to discuss problems.’
Her heart was thumping hard. There it was again: a tiny but deliberate dig. He was taking what was nothing more than a casual, unpremeditated remark and making it something personal, to do with the past. Their past. She felt sudden swift anger. Hadn’t they agreed to call a truce? This was going to be hard enough as it was, without him making a difficult situation worse with his snippy double-edged comments.
Her mind was so churned up with emotion it took her another couple of moments before she understood just how difficult the situation was going to be. For it wasn’t as if she was just going to work with Laszlo—her blood seemed to still in her veins—she was going to have to live with him too.
A tremor grew at the back of her neck. Of course she would have to live with him. But not like this. Not dreading his every remark—not deliberately having to misunderstand his every insinuation. She needed to make it clear now that she would not tolerate being treated like that.
‘I don’t like discussing problems.’ Returning his gaze coldly, she lifted her chin. ‘It’s just that I think communication is key to a successful relationship.’
She had meant to sound assured, without being overtly confrontational. But she knew the moment she spoke that it was the wrong thing to say. For he went entirely still and his eyes locked onto hers like an infrared missile seeking its target.
Swaying, she took a faltering step backwards. ‘I didn’t mean us—’
‘Don’t bother! I already know pretty much all there is to know about your views on relationships.’
Watching the shock and confusion bloom on her face, Laszlo felt a surge of satisfaction.
His voice was little more than a rasp. ‘You explained them to me in great detail when you walked out on me—Prudence.’
She flinched as he turned towards her and spat her name into the air as though it were a poison he had inadvertently swallowed.
‘In fact...’ He paused, his lip curling with contempt. ‘You made it abundantly clear how pitiable I was to have ever imagined that our relationship might work, given the range and depth of my flaws.’
‘N-no. I didn’t—’ Prudence began shakily, shocked and unnerved by the level of venom in his voice. But her voice died as he stepped towards her and she saw real anger in his eyes.
‘Oh, but you did.’ His face was tight with emotion. ‘Only you were wrong. They weren’t my flaws. They were yours!’ he ground out between gritted teeth. ‘You were just too weak and snobbish—’
‘I was not weak and snobbish.’ The injustice of his words melted her shock and suddenly she was coldly furious. ‘I just didn’t want to pretend any more.’
‘Pretend what? That you loved me?’ His face was blunt, angular with hostility.
Liquid misery trickled through her. ‘That we had anything in common.’
He shook his head. ‘Like loyalty, you mean? Maybe you’re right. We certainly felt differently about that!’
‘You don’t need to tell me about the differences between us,’ she snapped, stung into speech by the censure in his voice. ‘I know all about them. They’re why our relationship didn’t work. Why it could never have worked.’
Her throat tightened as he looked at her coldly.
‘Our relationship didn’t fail because we were different. It failed because you cared more about those differences than you did about me,’ he snarled. ‘Tell me, pireni, how are you finding my communication skills now? Am I making myself clear enough?’
Her heart gave a sudden jerk as abruptly he turned and walked towards the fireplace.
For a moment she stood frozen, gazing speechlessly at his back. Anger was building inside her, displacing all other feeling, and suddenly she crossed the room and yanked him round to face her.
‘That’s not true! I did care—’ She broke off. Rage, hot and unstoppable, choked her words. ‘Don’t you dare try and tell me what I felt.’ She set her jaw, her eyes narrowing. ‘If I cared about the differences between us it was because, yes, I thought they mattered. Unlike you, I like to talk about the things that matter to me. And, crazy though this may sound, I try and tell the truth. But what would you know about that? The truth is like a foreign language to you.’
She watched his eyes darken with fury, the pupils seeming almost to engulf the golden irises.
‘The truth?’ he said savagely. ‘You left me because you thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That’s the truth. You’re just too much of a coward to admit it.’
Silently, Prudence shook her head. Not only because she was disagreeing with him but because she was too angry to speak. She hadn’t even known she could feel that angry.
Finally, she found her voice. ‘How dare you talk to me about the truth when we’re standing here in this castle? Your castle. A castle I didn’t even know existed until today.’ Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘And just because I wanted to talk about the leaks in the trailer and the fact that we didn’t have enough money to buy food for more than a couple of days didn’t mean I thought you weren’t good enough!’
‘Those things shouldn’t have mattered. They didn’t matter to me,’ Laszlo snarled.
‘I know!’ she snarled back at him. ‘But they did to me. And you can’t punish me for that fact. Or for the fact that it worried me: how we felt differently about things. We disagreed about stuff and that was going to be a problem for us sooner or later, only you wouldn’t admit it,’ she raged at him. ‘So it wasn’t me who was a coward. It was you.’
She took a sudden step backwards as he moved towards her; his face was in shadow but the fury beneath his skin was luminous.
‘I am not the coward here, Prudence,’ he said quietly, and his dispassionate tone was frighteningly at odds with the menacing gleam in his eyes.
Prudence felt her insides lurch. Beneath the chill of his gaze her courage and powers of speech wilted momentarily and she felt suddenly defeated. Suddenly she didn’t want to talk any more. What was the point? Judging by the last twenty minutes it would only hurt more than it healed.
When at last she spoke, her voice was defeated. ‘This is going nowhere,’ she said wearily. ‘I know you’re angry. We both are. But can’t we just put our past behind us? At least until after the cataloguing is complete?’
Laszlo stared at her, his eyes glittering with fury. ‘The cataloguing? Do you know what my grandfather’s collection means to him? Or why he decided to have it catalogued?’ He shook his head. ‘After everything that’s happened between us, do you really think I’d trust you, of all people—?’ He broke off and breathed out unsteadily.
Prudence felt a stab of fear. What was he trying to say? ‘But you can,’ she said shakily. ‘I’ll do a good job. You have my word.’
He winced as though she had ripped a plaster from a scab. ‘Your word?’ he repeated. He tilted his head. ‘Your word...’ he said again.
And this time the contempt on his face felt like a hammer blow. Her mouth had gone dry.
‘I—I only meant—’ she stammered, but he cut across her words with a voice like a flick knife.
‘It doesn’t matter what you meant. We both know that your word is worthless.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Balling his fists, feeling sick to his stomach, Laszlo shook his head. He felt an odd rushing sensation in his head, like a sort of vertigo, and words and memories hurtled past him like debris from an explosion. What kind of woman was she? He had long known her to be snobbish and weak-minded, but this—this refusal to acknowledge what she’d done—
His jaw tightened.
‘I honoured you with a gift. The most important gift a man can give to a woman. I made you my wife and you threw it in my face.’
Prudence gaped at him, shock washing over in waves. She opened her mouth to deny his claim but the words clogged her throat. His wife? Surely he didn’t really think that they were actually married? Her heart was pounding; the palms of her hands felt suddenly damp. Married? That was ridiculous! Insane!
Dazedly she thought back to that day when she’d been led, giggling and blindfolded, to his great-uncle’s trailer. Laszlo had been waiting for her. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the memory, for he’d looked heartbreakingly handsome and so serious she had wanted to cry. They’d sworn their love and commitment to one another, and his great-uncle had spoken some words in Romany, and then they had eaten some bread and some salt.
Coming out of her reverie, she stared hard at him wordlessly. There had been no actual marriage. It had been no more real than his love for her. But it had been part of the fantasy of their love. And now he was destroying that fantasy. Taking the memory of something beautiful, innocent and spontaneous and turning it into a means of hurting her.
Her vision blurred and she felt suddenly giddy, as though she were teetering on the edge of a cliff-face. ‘You’re despicable! Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to ruin that day?’
‘Ruin it?’ His features contorted with fury. ‘You’re the one who did that. By walking out on our marriage.’
Her pulse was fluttering and despite her best efforts her voice sounded high and jerky. ‘We’re not married,’ she said tightly. ‘Marriages are more than just words and kisses. This is just another of your lies—’
Her voice trailed off at the expression of derision on his face.
‘No. This is just the ultimate proof of how little you understood or respected my way of life. For you, my being Romany was just some whimsical lifestyle choice.’ He watched the blood suffuse her face and felt a spasm of pain. ‘You liked it that I was different—an outsider. But you didn’t expect or want me to stay like that. You thought I’d just throw it off, like a fancy dress costume, and become “normal” when it came to the rest of our lives.’ His eyes hardened. ‘That’s when you started whining about the mess and the moving around. But that’s what we do. It’s what I do.’
‘Except when you’re living in a castle,’ she said shakily.
His gaze held hers. ‘You’re going off topic, pireni. It doesn’t matter where I lived then or where I live now. We’re still married. I’m still your husband. And you’re my wife.’
She felt a stab of shock—both at the vehemence in his voice and at the sudden spread of treacherous heat at his possessive words.
Turning her head, she swallowed. ‘What happened in that trailer wasn’t a wedding, Laszlo. There were no guests. No vicar. No witnesses. We didn’t give each other rings. We didn’t even sign anything. It wasn’t a wedding at all and I’m not your wife.’
Laszlo forced himself to stay calm. He had too much pride to let her see that her horrified denial had reopened a wound that had never fully healed—a wound that had left him hollowed out with misery and humiliation.
Shaking his head, he gave a humourless laugh. ‘Oh, believe me, pireni, I wish you weren’t—but you are.’ His fingers curled into the palms of his hands. ‘In my culture a wedding is a private affair between a man and wife. We don’t register the marriage, and the only authority that’s needed for it to be recognised is the consent of the bride and groom.’
Prudence felt a vertigo-like flash of fear. She shook her head. ‘We’re not married,’ she croaked. ‘Not in the eyes of the law.’
The change in him was almost imperceptible. She might even have missed the slight rigidity about his jawline had the contempt in his eyes not seared her skin.
‘Not your law, maybe.’ He felt a hot, overpowering rage. ‘But in mine. Yes, we were married—and we still are.’
Closing her eyes, she felt a sudden, inexplicable sense of panic. Laszlo clearly believed what he was saying. Whilst she might have viewed the ceremony as a curious but charming dress rehearsal for the vintage-style white wedding she’d been planning, the marriage had been real to him. Nausea gripped her stomach. What did it really matter if there was no certificate? It didn’t mean that the vows they’d made were any less valid or binding.
Heat scorched her skin. What had she done? She looked up and his gaze held hers, and she saw that he was furious, fighting for control.
‘Laszlo, I didn’t—’
His voice was barely audible but it scythed through her words and on through her skin and bone, slicing into her heart.
‘This conversation is over. I’m sorry you had a wasted trip but your services are no longer required.’
Prudence looked at him in confusion, her face bleached of colour. ‘I—I don’t understand...’ she stammered. ‘What do you mean?’
Laszlo rounded on her coldly. ‘What do I mean?’ he echoed. ‘I mean that you’re fired—dismissed, sacked. Your contract is terminated and this meeting is over. As of this moment I never want to see your face again.’ He turned back towards the fire. ‘So why don’t you take your bags, turn around and get out of my house? Now.’
