Читать книгу Be My Bride: The Right Mr Wrong / A Most Suitable Wife / Betrothed for the Baby - Natalie Anderson - Страница 19

EIGHT

The early morning sun streamed in through the window, the sky as brilliant and as clear as it had been the day before and the day before that. Liam rolled and buried his head under the pillow, totally over the relentless perfection of the weather. Why couldn’t there be a storm to challenge him out in the boat? He had energy to release, adrenalin to be used. With a growl he thrust out of bed, tossing the pillow to the far corner of the big mattress. He rubbed his face; his eyes ached, his brain fogged. Yet his muscles leapt and twitched under his skin.

Never had he felt so unfulfilled. He’d sailed for hours this past week, but not even a marathon on the water soothed the inflammation scored deep into his heart. He’d scrubbed every inch of every boat in the shed. Then the shed itself. Even though it was someone else’s job, he’d needed the activity—hoped the relentless grind would wear him out enough to sleep.

It didn’t.

Nothing could exhaust him enough to stop thinking about her. And it wasn’t the permanent hard-on causing the restless agony. It was the hurt in his heart. He missed more than her body. More than what they’d shared in bed those too few hours.

The inked image had long since washed away but it was as if the nib of that pen had been poisoned. Leaving him with an uncomfortable—invisible—scar. He didn’t think it would ever ease.

Frustrated, he snapped at his crew as they trained. She had him questioning everything. What he was doing, what he wasn’t doing, what he wanted in the future. Hell, he’d never thought too far into the future. He’d always lived for the next race, the next event. Loving the achievement— the solo endurance. The success—sporting and financial. And emotional.

He’d thought he had it so together. His life was perfectly set up.

To fail.

Because less than a week with her back in his life, here he was aching for all the things he’d sworn he’d never want. And the thing that hurt most of all was that she didn’t want him. She didn’t want his lifestyle. Didn’t want anything other than what they’d shared.

Illogically—when he’d insisted the same—he wanted to know why. Why didn’t she want him? He’d never known. She’d been attracted to him from the first moment she’d seen him—just as he’d been attracted to her. But she’d refused him—more than once she’d rejected him. And now, even once they’d shared that incredible night, she still rejected him. It burned his insides as if he’d swallowed a bottle of acid. She hadn’t argued, hadn’t fought. She’d just so civilly agreed.

Liam stopped winding up the coil of rope as it dawned on him—Victoria always agreed.

She always did what she thought the other person wanted. So how was he to know for sure that this goodbye was what she’d really wanted?

He shook his head at his fantasy. She’d been so businesslike, so seemingly determined. Matching him in the ‘career-comes-first’ persona. She’d been legit, right?

But the idea took hold—hope took hold. Had she just been making it easy for him? Doing what someone else wanted the way she’d always done?

His heart thumped at the ridiculous eagerness spurting inside him. He was going to have a coronary if he didn’t sort himself out. And it was his own fault. He’d been an idiot—too blind to see what was staring him in the face, too scared to admit even to himself what he’d really like. If he’d given them just a little more time, thought things through instead of bolting—

He tossed the rope to the ground and pulled his phone from his pocket. He wasn’t spending another day avoiding the biggest challenge of his life.

* * *

Victoria couldn’t believe the uplift in her business. It was absolutely as she wanted it—and keeping her busy. But being the scribe who recorded the love notes of other people? Right now it hurt.

But it also kept her faith alive. She’d survived betrayal and divorce and isolation. She could survive this too. Other people did. Other people went on to find happiness. And one night was only one night, right? So she shouldn’t be this hurt. Only this wound was deeper than any other. It wasn’t only the death of that secret fantasy long locked away—it was the death of the incredible reality of being with him. It had been so much better than she’d ever believed it could be too. But she wasn’t thinking only of sex. She’d laughed with him, talked with him, felt so content in his company, so inspired. It was so much more than sexual. She was drawn to him on many levels. He worked as hard as she. Was as determined as she. He helped out—and she’d helped out too. They had so much to share.

Only he didn’t want to. He didn’t want her.

In the early evening she sat outdoors at a café in a trendier part of town, glad to get out of the oppressive feeling of her studio. She had a portfolio with her and a laptop to show pictures of some of her larger assignments. It was safer that way, plus it got her a little ‘Parisian café scene’ fun.

Her prospective client was a guy wanting to do something romantic for the woman in his life—a beautifully printed series of clues that were going to be part of an elaborate proposal. Lucky woman.

‘Do you think she’ll like it?’ he leaned forward and asked for the fifth time.

‘I think she’ll love it. And I’d be honoured to do it for you.’

His entire face lit up. ‘Merci. Perhaps if she says yes you could do the invitations. I like your work. I think she will too. It’s unique.’

‘Thank you.’ Victoria felt the heat bloom in her cheeks, pleased she’d shown him her personal stationery portfolio as well.

‘I must get going or she’ll wonder where I am.’ He stood and Victoria rose too, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

He stepped around the table and leaned forward to kiss her on each cheek in that polite, Parisian manner. ‘I’ll call you.’

‘I’ll look forward to it.’ And she would. She smiled as she watched him walk down the street.

‘Victoria!’

She turned, put a hand out to grip the back of the cane chair.

Liam was striding towards her. Looking icy. He swiftly got to where she stood superglued to the footpath. He was more tanned than usual, his eyes burnished. Gorgeous.

‘It didn’t take you long to move on.’ He glared after the guy who’d just left her.

Coolly Victoria glared at him; the excitement that had burst into being only a second ago was instantly doused at the implication of his words. ‘No.’ She let the word hang ambiguously.

A muscle in Liam’s jaw twitched. ‘He’s not your type.’

‘Who is?’

He looked at her directly, eyes aflame. ‘Me.’

She was furious. He was only interested because he’d seen her with another guy—someone he saw as a competitor. ‘This was a business meeting, Liam,’ she snapped. ‘That guy’s about to propose to his girlfriend of four years.’

‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, I—’

‘Anyway, you’ve no right to comment on who I meet or talk to or sleep with, should I choose to,’ Victoria interrupted. ‘We had our one night. You left. It’s over.’

‘You wanted me to leave.’

‘Yes.’ She didn’t want someone ruining her career prospects. She didn’t want someone who wasn’t going to be there most of the time. She didn’t want someone who didn’t love her. Not again. And she’d agreed never to see him again because it was what he’d wanted. He didn’t want more.

He’d gone pale beneath his tan. ‘I had no idea it was a business meeting. I misread the signs and thought—’ He broke off and visibly regrouped. ‘I’d never want to jeopardise your work,’ he continued stiltedly. ‘That’s why I stayed away the week of the wedding. I knew you had to concentrate. Your business is amazing. You’re talented. You’re making it work and you deserve every success.’ He backed up a pace. ‘I’d never stand in the way of that.’

Unlike Oliver. Who’d been resentful. Who’d been as competitive.

‘So you only called out because you thought that other guy was flirting with me?’ She felt even more furious. Because that was it, wasn’t it? The only time she got serious attention from guys was when there was more than one on the scene. ‘You know, Oliver only wanted to marry me to keep me from finding someone else,’ she said bitterly. ‘Protecting his investment rather than looking at me.’ He hadn’t really loved her. Wanted her, yes, but more than that he’d wanted no one else to have her.

Liam’s eyes widened—and a second later he frowned. Big-time frown. ‘You think I was that someone else?’ He leaned closer. ‘That my presence somehow forced his hand?’

Had Oliver sensed the attraction between her and Liam? He had to have. ‘He hadn’t planned that proposal. The ring was a family heirloom. He had access to it any time—it was in the safe in the house.’

‘But you said yes.’

‘Because they were all sitting there. Because they expected it. Because I wanted to please them, and him. Because I was a coward.’

Liam breathed in deep before stepping forward and taking her by the arm, drawing her away from the café and around the corner into a quieter side-street.

‘I didn’t come over because I saw you talking to that other guy in some random quirk of fate. I’m not supposed to be in Paris. I just abandoned my training and drove for hours to talk to you. I came to find you.’

This wasn’t a chance meeting? Victoria stopped walking, so he did too. ‘How did you know where I was?’

There was a long moment of silence. Victoria watched— fascinated—as colour slashed across his cheekbones. Don’t-give-a-damn Liam was blushing?

‘I put an app on your phone.’

She frowned. ‘What kind of app?’

‘I have the matching app on mine—our phones can track each other. It comes up on a map.’

‘You basically bugged my phone?’ With some kind of GPS tracking thing? ‘That’s a first-class stalker thing to do.’

‘Yep.’ He stared into the distance. Eventually he brought his gaze back to meet hers head-on. ‘I didn’t want to lose you again.’

Victoria’s heart thundered. No. No, this couldn’t be. She killed the hope making her heart skip double-Dutch style. ‘Liam, I know you had to fight. You’ve competed against extreme odds to get to where you are. But I’m not some challenge. I won’t be a prize.’

She didn’t want to be a possession again—someone there to look good and support and not ‘be’ someone and something in her own right. She wanted to be valued for herself. Wanted. Supported in her own endeavours and not just the one supporting. She didn’t want to be a sexualised object or fought over like two dogs did with a bone. Because in the end the bone wasn’t of interest. The bone wasn’t actually what was wanted.

‘Is that how you think I see you? How I treat you?’ He frowned. ‘What am I to you? The bit of rough from your past? Am I not good enough for you? ‘

‘How dare you?’ she challenged, her voice low and raw as angry tears burned the back of her throat. ‘You were the one who said we could only have one night. You were the one who said he couldn’t give up his lifestyle for any woman.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘It’s easier not to get emotionally involved when it’s only one night,’ he said stiffly.

‘Well, we couldn’t have emotional involvement, could we?’ she said sarcastically.

He almost laughed at that; she saw the quirk to his mouth and the flash in his eyes. ‘The less expectations, the better. I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘How considerate of you.’

‘I like to think so.’ A low purr, filled with that old arrogance.

She angled her head and pulled the strap of her bag more tightly to her shoulder. ‘Of course,’ she said conversationally, ‘I wouldn’t say that it was because you don’t want to hurt anyone.’

‘No?’

‘I’d say it was because you don’t want to be hurt yourself.’

‘No.’

‘No, you don’t want to be hurt? Or no, I’m wrong?’

‘You’re wrong.’

‘I’ve been wrong about many things, but I’m not wrong about this.’ She cleared her throat. ‘You’re afraid of intimacy.’

He laughed outright at that. ‘Not sex,’ she sighed. ‘IN.TIM.ACY. Letting someone in your life. Trusting someone. Being brave enough to rely on someone. You can’t do that. And the work thing is just the excuse you give. You don’t want to commit to anyone. You even admitted that once. And the reason is because you’re too scared.’ She snuck a breath, starting to get upset. ‘But don’t make excuses with me. Don’t come back and bother me. Don’t do that to me.’

‘I bother you?’

Of course he bothered her. She hated him for it. For not loving her the way she wanted him to. But she could be okay with it, she could get over it, so long as he stayed away. ‘All I’ve ever been is another prize for you to win. And once you’ve won, you’re done—’

‘You were never a prize to me,’ he suddenly shouted. ‘You were always—’ He broke off, closing his eyes. ‘Perfect.’ His eyes flashed open again, serious and wide and riveted on her. ‘You were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. And the sexiest. The way you looked at me? And then I really saw you. Got to see and know the person you are. The way you did things for everyone. You cared so much for everyone. I wanted you to care for me. You were so lovely. You’re still so lovely. Not a prize, but the most precious thing. And hell, yes, I feel scared around you— when you only have to look at me to pierce through to my bones. You have always mattered to me.’ He paced away from her, then spun on his heel.

‘I never wanted to care about what people thought of me. I already knew what they thought of me and where I came from.’ He shook his head. ‘But I knew that was irrelevant to what I wanted. I’m proud of the way I’ve made a success of my life. And I won’t ever give that up—those wins are mine for ever. And I’ll keep winning. But I knew I didn’t fit in. Frankly I didn’t care. Then I met Oliver and he didn’t care at all about my background. No looks or comments. This from a guy who came from a background of such privilege—not just money, but family. He invited me to his home—the first real Christmas I’d ever had. Snow and everything—a fairy tale. And there was an angel there too. A porcelain doll with green eyes and blonde hair and her heart on her sleeve. Sweet, compassionate, caring. And when she looked at me? It wasn’t disapproval or distrust that I saw. It was desire. Raw, adult desire.’ He swallowed. ‘I wanted her. I wanted everything she had to give. Like I’ve never wanted anything from any other person before.’

The pain in Victoria’s chest spilled over. ‘Did you want her? Or was she just a symbol of it all—the family, the Christmas—that whole scene that you’d never had?’

‘I just wanted her. And I gave up what I’d found—that brotherly friendship—to try to have her.’

‘No, you didn’t. You didn’t take what you could have taken. You said it yourself—you didn’t seduce me. All you did was ask a question and I was too scared to answer it honestly.’ She shook her head. ‘I was supposed to be perfect,’ she said sadly. ‘I thought I’d lose everything. And then I lost everything anyway.’ She sighed. ‘So I’m not what you thought I was. I’m no angel. I’m not some perfect thing to be put on a pedestal. I make mistakes. I can be mean. I can’t be perfect.’ She couldn’t live up to whatever image he had of her in his head. She’d only disappoint him.

‘I know that,’ he said. ‘I know you. And I just want you all the more.’

Victoria drew a shaky breath. ‘Other women had wanted you.’

‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘Other women had. But you were different. You were genuine. You had a softness in you. You were so attuned to other people. So empathetic. So aware of how they were feeling. You care about how other people are feeling. You want people to be happy.’

‘It’s a weakness. I put off things that I wanted for fear of what other people might say or think or if they might treat me differently. You’re so fearless. You don’t give a damn.’

‘I’m full of fear. And I do give a damn. Both are related to you.’

‘This can’t work,’ she whispered. ‘You said yourself relationships don’t work with your lifestyle. And you can’t change, you can’t stop doing something that you love because of me. I couldn’t live with that.’

‘I’m not going to stop, I’m going to adjust. I want to set up a sailing school. I actually want to settle. If I’m with you. But I don’t want to hold you back. I know you’ve held back because of other people in your life. I know you didn’t do things because of your parents and what happened with your sister, and Oliver. I don’t want you doing that because of me. But, Victoria, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve found myself in tricky situations before—we can find a solution to this. But you have to tell me what you want. Don’t say whatever you think I want to hear. Be honest. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I can stay. Whatever, wherever you want.’

‘I want to work.’ She blinked back tears. She couldn’t give up her job. She needed the stimulation, the security. But she also needed love. ‘And I want to be with you. I want you. I love you too.’

His arms wrapped tight around her, pulling her in close. Noses bumped before lips touched and clung and her tears fell. He leaned back against the wall, taking her with him, so they both rested against the solid structure. The most incredible feeling of relief swept through her. Relief—and disbelief too.

‘I understand you don’t want to move.’ He spoke fast, his warm breath stirring her hair. ‘I have money. We’ll get an apartment with a nice view of the river.’

Left Bank? She pressed her face against his tee before pulling back to shake her head and laugh—albeit a bit watery. ‘I’d prefer an apartment with a view of the sea or the ocean. Whichever one.’

He frowned. ‘But what about your work?’

‘It’s transportable,’ she admitted. ‘I just need a workspace with good light and an Internet connection and a post office nearby.’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to lose you again either.’

‘You never will.’

She curled her fingers into his tee. She nearly had lost him again. But he’d come after her. He’d held onto her.

His heart pounded against hers. She felt his tension, realised that he truly had been afraid. As vulnerable as she. She leaned closer into him and let him soothe her with the gentle strokes of his hand down her back, the light kisses he pressed into her hair.

‘It’s taken us so long to get here,’ he said softly.

‘I can’t regret it. I won’t. I don’t. I’m not the girl I was when I first met you. I couldn’t have handled you then. I can now.’ She lifted her head and looked at him, brushed her fingers on his jaw. ‘We weren’t right for each other then.’

‘You agree we are now?’ He pulled her closer. ‘I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Don’t doubt it.’ He shook his head. ‘There was always something about you. There was always just this. Just us. You make me want everything.’

He kissed her. Exquisite tension built between them—­delicious torture, free of undercurrents and uncertainties. Nothing forgotten, but now, there was nothing forbidden, nothing hidden. Glorious desire surged as pure happiness filled her. She loved him. And he loved her.

She leaned closer, positively clinging. His hands clamped on her hips, an iron grip, stopping her instinctive circular sway against him.

‘We need a room. Now.’ He groaned, muttered a short swearword or three. ‘I can’t breathe for wanting you.’

She laughed, enjoying the heated agony in his eyes. ‘Don’t stop breathing.’

He frantically dug a hand into his pocket. ‘I’ve got an app on my phone.’

She lifted her brows and teased, ‘Another one?’

‘Hotel finder.’ He swiped and tapped at the screen. ‘I’m locating the nearest.’

‘Liam,’ she chuckled. ‘We’re leaning against the wall of a hotel right here.’

‘We are?’ He glanced up at the flag hanging on the corner of the building. ‘Thank God. Let’s get in there.’ He peeled away from the wall and took her hand in a death grip—but she was the one who led the way.

‘Together.’ She turned her head back to smile at him.

He stopped, tugging on her hand so she stopped too. He planted a kiss on her lips and then whispered, ‘Finally and for always.’