He resisted the urge to run his finger around his collar again. He had to get his mind off the fact that they were in a bedroom. Alone.
He draped his jacket across the back of a chair. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask—has Barbara ever exhibited any signs of violence?’
Caro settled on the end of the bed, her feet tucked up beneath her. ‘Heavens no. Why would you ask such a thing?’
He raked both hands back through his hair, trying not to look at her fully. ‘During croquet she threatened to cut my heart out with a knife if I broke your heart.’
‘Ah.’ She bit her lip and ducked her head. ‘So that’s what put you off your game.’
He could have sworn her shoulders shook. He settled himself in the chair—the only chair in the room. It was large and, as he’d be spending the night in it, thankfully comfortable.
‘Are you laughing at me?’
‘Not at you.’ Her eyes danced. ‘But she’s such a tiny little thing, and you have to admit the thought of her doing you any damage is rather amusing.’ A smile spilled from her. ‘And it’s kind of sweet for her to fluff up all mother-hen-like on my account.’
That smile. He had a forbidden image of her sprawled across that bed, naked...wearing nothing but that smile.
A scowl moved through him.
She shrugged. ‘It’s nice.’
Nice? He stared at her, and for the first time it occurred to him that extracting Barbara from this mess—one of her own making, he might add—might, in fact, be more important to Caro than her job. Which was crazy. He’d had firsthand experience of all Caro would sacrifice in the interests of her career.
‘That’s why she whisked me away the moment we arrived. She wanted to warn me of you—to tell me to be careful.’
He stared at her. ‘Careful of what?’
‘Of you, of course. Of getting my heart broken again.’
‘Your heart?’ He found himself suddenly on his feet, roaring at her. ‘What about my heart?’
Her jaw dropped. ‘Your heart? You were the one who walked away without so much as a backward glance!’ She shot to her feet too, hands on hips. ‘You mean to tell me you have a heart?’
More than she’d ever know.
He fell back into the chair.
She folded her arms and glared. ‘Besides, your heart can’t be in any danger. You’re in love with another woman, right?’
He moistened his lips and refused to answer that question. ‘Are you saying your heart is in danger?’
She stilled before hitching her chin up higher. ‘When you left five years ago I thought I would die.’
He wanted to call her a liar. Her heart was as cold as ice. It was why he’d left. He hadn’t been able to make so much as a dent in that hard heart of hers. But truth shone from her eyes now in silent accusation, and something in his chest lurched.
‘I am never giving you the chance to do that to me again.’
For a moment it felt as if the ground beneath his feet were slipping. He shook himself back to reality.
‘Sending me on a guilt trip is a nice little ploy, Caro, but it won’t work. I know you, remember?’
‘Oh, whatever...’ She waved an arm through the air, as if none of it mattered any more, and for some reason the action enraged him.
He shot to his feet again. She’d started to lower herself back to the bed, but now she straightened and held her ground.
‘You!’ He thrust a finger at her nose. ‘You made it more than clear that while I might be suitable rebellion material, to put Daddy’s nose out of joint, I was nowhere near good enough to father your children!’
That knowledge, and the fact that she’d taken him in so easily, should have humiliated him. He wished to God that it had. He wished to God that he’d been able to feel anything beyond the black morass of devastation that had crushed him beneath its weight.
All he’d ever wanted was to build a family with this woman. A family that he could love, protect and cherish.
Before Caro, he hadn’t known it was possible to love another person so utterly and completely. When he’d found out that she didn’t love him back, he hadn’t known which way to turn.
One thing had been clear, though. He’d had no intention of leaving her. He’d blamed her father, with all his guilt-tripping emotional blackmail, for stunting Caro’s emotional development. He’d figured that half or even a quarter of Caro was worth more than the whole of any other woman.
That was how far he’d fallen.
She’d stamped all over him—and he’d spread himself at her feet and let her do it.
When he’d asked her if they could start a family, though, she’d laughed. Laughed.
He dragged a hand down his face. He would never forget the expression on her face. He hadn’t been able to hide from the truth any longer—Caro would never consent to have a family with him.
So he’d left before he could lose himself completely.
He’d fled while there was still something of him left.
‘Your heart?’ he spat. ‘What use did you ever have for a heart? Stop playing the injured party. You haven’t earned the right.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘I HAVEN’T EARNED the right...?’
Caro’s hands clenched and she started to shake with the force of her anger. He watched with a kind of detached fascination. Back when they’d been married—they were still married—Caro had rarely lost her temper.
In fact, now that he thought about it, she might have got cross every now and again, but he couldn’t recall her ever losing her temper. To see her literally shaking with anger now was a novel experience...and bizarrely compulsive.
Her eyes flashed and a red flush washed through her cheeks. She looked splendid, alive—and tempting beyond measure. There was nothing staid or remote about her now.
He loathed himself for the impulse to goad her further.
He loathed himself more for the stronger impulse to pull her into his arms and soothe her.
He watched her try to swallow her anger.
‘In your eyes, my not wanting children made me unnatural. Having children was more important to you than it ever was for me. It’s a very great shame we didn’t discuss our views on whether or not we wanted children before we married.’
He stabbed a finger at her. ‘What’s a very great shame is that your job—your stupid, precious job—was more important to you than me, our relationship and the potential family we could’ve had.’
The old frustration rose up through him with all its associated pain.
‘What’s so important about your job? What is it, after all, other than vacuous and frivolous? It can hardly be called vital and important!’
Her eyes spat fire. ‘What—unlike yours, you mean?’
He swung away and raked a hand through his hair, trying to lasso his anger before swinging back to face her. ‘When you get right down to it, what do you do? You sell trinkets to rich people who have more time and money than they do sense.’
Her hands clenched so hard her knuckles turned white. ‘While you find things rich people have lost? Oh, that’s right up there with saving lives and spreading peace and harmony throughout all the land.’
He blinked as that barb found its mark. ‘My job’s saving your butt!’
‘Not yet it isn’t!’
They stared at each other, both breathing hard.
‘If people like me didn’t care about our jobs, Mr High and Mighty, you’d be out of work.’
Touché.
‘Sometimes jobs aren’t about performing an important function in society. Sometimes they’re about what they represent to the people doing them.’ She thumped a hand to her chest, her voice low and controlled. ‘My job is the only thing I’ve ever achieved on my own merit. Against my father’s wishes, strictures and censure I chose the subjects I wanted to study at university.’
She’d chosen Art History rather than the Trust Law and Business Management degree her father had demanded she
take. He’d wanted her groomed in preparation for taking over that damn trust he’d set up in her mother’s name. Caro had always sworn she wouldn’t administer that trust, but her father had refused to believe her, unable to countenance the possibility of such rebellion and defiance.
‘My job,’ Caro continued, ‘has provided me with the means to pay the rent on my own flat and to live my own life. How dare you belittle that? My job has given me independence and freedom and the means—’
‘I understand you needing independence from your father.’ Fury rose through him. ‘But you didn’t need it from me! I’m nothing like your father.’
‘You’re exactly like my father!’
She’d shouted at him, with such force he found himself falling back a step. His mouth went dry. She was wrong. He was nothing like her father.
‘You wanted to control me the same way he did. What I wanted didn’t matter one jot. It was always what you wanted that mattered!’ Her voice rose even higher and louder. ‘You didn’t want a wife! You wanted a...a brood mare!’
The accusation shot out of her like grapeshot and he stared at her, utterly speechless. He couldn’t have been more surprised if she’d held a forty-five calibre submachine gun complete with magazine, pistol grip and detachable buttstock to his head and said, Stick ’em up.
He found himself breathing hard. She was kidding—just trying to send him on a guilt trip. That couldn’t be how she’d felt all those years ago.
The bedroom door flew open and they both swung round to find Barbara standing in the doorway, her face pinched and her eyes wide. ‘I will not let you shout at Caro like that!’
Him? Caro had been the one doing most of the shouting.
‘Come along, darling, you can bunk in with me tonight.’
She moved past Jack to take Caro’s arm and tug her towards the door. She shot a venomous glare at him over her shoulder.
Caro didn’t look at him at all. Not once. His heart started to throb. He opened his mouth to beg her to stay.
To what end? It was madness even to consider it. He snapped his mouth shut, clenching his hands into fists.
‘Oh, really, Caro...’ He heard Barbara sigh before the door closed behind them. ‘This is what you wear to bed to attract a man? It won’t do.’
He wanted to yell after them that there was absolutely nothing wrong with what Caro was wearing, that she looked as delectable as ever. But, again, to what end?
He collapsed back into the chair, his temples throbbing and his chest burning.
‘You wanted a brood mare!’
Behind her calm, composed facade, was that what she’d really been thinking? He rested his head in his hands. Was that truly how she’d felt? Was it how he’d made her feel?
* * *
‘Are you okay, darling?’
Caro managed a shaky smile. ‘This will probably sound stupid, but that’s the very first time I’ve ever yelled at Jack.’
Barbara lowered herself to the bed. ‘Coming from anyone else I would be surprised—shocked, even—but not from you. You’ve always been a funny little thing.’
‘Funny?’
‘Very controlled and self-contained. You have a tendency to avoid confrontation. It can be very difficult to get a handle on how you truly feel.’
Caro blinked and sat too. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t realise.’
‘Oh, I know you don’t do it on purpose. Besides, you’re getting better.’
She rubbed a hand across her forehead. ‘Fighting like that doesn’t feel better.’
‘So things with you and Jack aren’t going so well?’
She recalled, despite their fight, that she and Jack had a cover story to maintain. She forced a shrug. ‘That fight has been brewing for five years.’
‘Well, then, maybe it’s cleared the air,’ Barbara said briskly. ‘In the meantime, it won’t hurt him to stew for a night. Now, come along—jump into bed. Things will look brighter in the morning, after a good night’s sleep.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind me sharing with you?’
‘Not in the slightest.’
Caro climbed under the covers. Just before the light clicked out she noticed Barbara’s clutch purse, sitting on the dressing table on the other side of the room like an unclaimed jackpot.
She blinked, her mind growing suddenly sharp. With a heart that pounded she lay still, staring into the dark, willing Barbara to fall asleep. The sooner she retrieved the snuffbox, the sooner Jack would be out of her life.
It seemed an age before Barbara’s slow, steady breaths informed Caro that she was asleep. As quietly and smoothly as she could, she slid out from beneath the covers and stood by the side of the bed for a couple of moments, holding her breath to see if Barbara would stir.
When she didn’t, she made her way carefully around the bed to the dressing table. Reaching out a hand to its edge, she nearly knocked over the can of hairspray sitting just behind the purse. With a dry mouth she righted it and waited. When nothing happened, she edged her fingers forward until they skimmed across the purse.
With her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Barbara must hear it, she opened the purse and pushed her hand inside. At the same moment the bedside light was flicked on.
‘Caro, what are you doing?’
Caro stared into the clutch purse, afraid that if she turned around her expression would betray her. No snuffbox. ‘I was...I was looking for some painkillers.’ She turned and blinked in what she hoped was a bleary fashion.
‘Here you go.’ Barbara handed her a pill from a bottle on the bedside table beside her, along with a glass of water.
There was nothing for it but to take the headache tablet, even though she didn’t have a headache. Granted, Jack was a major headache, but she’d need something stronger than an aspirin to get rid of him.
‘Thank you, and I’m sorry I disturbed you.’
She climbed back into bed, her stomach feeling suddenly odd. Seriously, she wasn’t cut out for all this sneaking around.
She wondered if Jack was sleeping soundly next door. She wondered what would have happened if she’d stayed there. Would they have made wild, abandoned love?
She tingled all over at the thought.
Just as well she was on this side of the wall!
The fuzziness of sleep settled over her, but when Barbara slipped from the bed Caro tried to push it away. What was Barbara doing? This could be a clue!
The other woman padded over to the window. Caro tried to rouse herself from the darkness trying to claim her.
As if from a long way away, she thought she heard Barbara say, ‘Oh, Roland, why did you have to make things so hard?’
Caro wouldn’t mind an answer to that question herself. She tried to lift herself up onto her elbows, but her body refused to comply with the demand.
‘Why are you making me do this?’
Do what?
Caro opened her mouth to ask, but the words wouldn’t come. Her last coherent thought before a thick, suffocating blanket descended over her was that Barbara hadn’t given her an aspirin. She’d given her a sleeping tablet.
* * *
Caro found it nearly impossible to shrug the fog of sleep from her brain, but she did manage to push herself upright into a sitting position.
What time was it?
Sunlight flooded in at the window, but finding the energy to locate a clock in this unfamiliar room seemed beyond her at that moment. She turned her head a fraction to check the bed. No Barbara. At least not in the bed.
‘Barbara?’
She barely recognised that voice as her own.
She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘Barbara?’
The result wasn’t much better. Eventually she forced herself to sit on the edge of bed, and then to stand and turn around. It only confirmed what she already knew—Barbara wasn’t in the room.
She hoped Jack knew where Barbara was.
She pulled in a breath. Right. She needed to go next door and d
ress and then join everyone else for the day’s activities.
She made swaying progress across to the door. She had to rest for a moment before opening it, forcing herself through it and then closing it behind her. She’d almost reached the door to the room she and Jack shared when his voice sounded behind her.
‘Caro?’
She rested back against the wall—needing its support—before turning her head in his direction. Heavens. A sigh rose up through her. With his height and his breadth, Jack cut a fine figure. A pair of designer denim jeans outlined his long lean legs and strong thighs to perfection. She’d bet the view looked even better from behind.
It suddenly occurred to her that if he’d come in a few minutes later he’d have almost certainly caught her in a state of undress. For some reason she found that almost unutterably funny, and a giggle burst from her.
‘Morning, Jack.’
His eyes narrowed as he drew nearer. ‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Most certainly not.’ She tried to straighten, but only lasted a couple of seconds before she found herself slumping again. She pointed a finger at him. ‘Barbara gave me a pill last night.’
His face darkened. ‘You accepted a pill from Barbara? Are you insane?’
She didn’t like his opinion of Barbara, and she hated his opinion of her. ‘I thought it was an aspirin. And I had to take it to maintain my reason for why she’d caught me with my hand in her purse.’ She frowned. ‘I think it was a sleeping tablet... I’m still feeling kind of fuzzy.’
His nostrils flared, and he made a move as if to pick her up, but she held up both hands to ward him off.
‘Ooh, please don’t do that. My stomach is feeling...um...queasy. A bathroom would be a very good idea about now.’
He took her arm with a gentleness that had the backs of her eyes prickling. ‘Come on—it’s just a couple of doors this way.’
She tried not to focus on his strength, his warmth, or how much she was enjoying the feel of him beside her. It was this physical craving for him that had been her undoing before. It was something that went beyond sex. It had brought her peace and a sense of belonging that she’d felt right down in her very bones.
And it had obviously been a lie. So she needed to ignore it now.
Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set Page 41