His expression became rueful and his hands fell away from her body. He put some distance between them and then he rubbed one of his hands over the back of his neck as if trying to release a knot of tension. ‘I had planned to come and see you but then I got caught up with—’
‘Work has always been your first priority, hasn’t it? And yet you won’t allow it to be mine.’
His hand dropped back by his side and his mouth took on a grim line. ‘My father died two days after you left.’
Ailsa was shocked into silence. She’d been under the impression Vinn’s father had died a few months ago, not within two days of her leaving. She tried to think back to her conversation with Carlotta. Had the housekeeper said when Vinn’s father had died? Was that why Carlotta was so convinced Ailsa didn’t care about him? Had he been going to contact her and then got caught up in the tragedy of burying his father? When she hadn’t heard from him after a week she’d instigated the divorce proceedings with her lawyer, figuring Vinn had had plenty of time to say what needed to be said. She’d taken his silence as his answer and yet now she realised there had been a good reason for that silence.
Remorse, regret, shame at her impetuosity rained down on her like stinging hail. Why hadn’t she waited a few more days? Why hadn’t she contacted him? Pride. Stubborn mulish pride had kept her in London with her phone mostly turned off because she’d wanted him to sweat it out. To miss her. To feel threatened he might lose her.
But she had lost him...
Vinn released a rough-edged breath. ‘I probably should’ve contacted you to at least tell you he’d passed away but it was such a hideous time, with that poor family he’d nearly wiped out and his grieving girlfriend’s family... I don’t know...’ He sighed again. ‘I just had to get through each day. There wasn’t time to think about my own stuff with the police and coroner’s investigation and the distraught relatives threatening legal action, not to mention the constant press attention. And then, when I got your lawyer’s letter informing me you were demanding a divorce, I figured it was too late to change your mind.’
It hadn’t been too late. Ailsa swallowed the words behind a wall of regret. If only she had waited a few more days. A week or two...even a month. Why had she been so insistent on drawing that line in the sand so firmly it cut her off from him completely? But what was the point in admitting how immature and foolish she’d been? Their relationship was beyond salvage because they wanted different things out of life.
‘I had no idea your father died so soon after I left... I’m so sorry. It must have been an awful time for you and Dom. I didn’t see anything in the press back in London, otherwise I would have—’
‘What? Sent flowers?’ A note of sarcasm entered his voice. ‘Just think—you could’ve sent two for the price of one. A wreath for my father and another one for the death of our marriage.’
For once, Ailsa refrained from flinging back an equally sarcastic response. She realised, shamefully for the first time, that he used sarcasm as she did. As a shield to keep people from discovering the truth about his emotional state. He might not have been close to his father, but a parent’s death was still a huge event in one’s life. Sometimes the death of a difficult parent was even trickier to deal with because of the ambiguity of feelings, and the nagging regret that those issues couldn’t be resolved once death had placed its final stamp on things.
‘I’m really sorry you had such a horrible time dealing with your dad’s death and all the other stuff so soon after we...split up. But maybe if you’d contacted me straight away to tell me about your father’s accident—’
‘You would have come crawling back?’ The dark light in his eyes warned her she was flirting with danger. ‘You are assuming, of course, that I would’ve taken you back.’
Ailsa straightened her spine and forced herself to hold his gaze. ‘I wouldn’t have come back unless you apologised first for being such an arrogant chauvinist.’
‘I see no need to apologise for wanting what most people want, and if you’re honest with yourself you want it too. You’re allowing your parents’ divorce to dictate your life. That’s crazy. And childish.’
‘It’s not about my parents’ divorce,’ Ailsa said. ‘Why is it so hard for you to understand I don’t want children? When a man says he doesn’t want kids no one says anything. But when a woman does, everyone takes it upon themselves to talk her out of her decision as if she’s being impossibly selfish.’
‘Okay, so if it’s not about your parents’ divorce then what is it about?’ His gaze was so direct she felt like a bug on a corkboard.
‘I just told you.’
‘You told me you didn’t want children, but is it just about the interruption to your career?’
Ailsa shifted her gaze and made a business of securing the towel around her body. ‘I’m not maternal. I never have been. My career is the most important thing to me.’
‘Isaac once told me you were more of a mother to him than your mother was,’ Vinn said. ‘He said in many ways you still are.’
Ailsa wondered exactly how chummy her brother and Vinn were these days. But then she realised Isaac had always idolised Vinn from the moment she’d introduced them to each other. Vinn talked to her brother man to man, not man to child or even man to teenager. But how much of their childhood had Isaac shared with him?
‘I’m ten years older than Isaac. I was just being a big sister. Mum did her best, but she found being a mother hard, with me especially, but with Isaac too.’
His frown brought his eyebrows together. ‘Why you especially?’
Ailsa wished she’d kept her mouth shut but for some strange reason it was becoming more and more tempting to tell him about her background. When she’d first met him she hadn’t wanted him to see her as anything other than a normal young woman. As the normal young woman she had been until the age of fifteen when she’d stumbled across the ugly truth. She didn’t want to be a freak. She didn’t want to be the outcome of a hideous crime. She wanted to be normal. ‘I was a difficult, fractious baby who refused to take the breast and slept fitfully. She had trouble bonding with me. And she was young—only eighteen when she had me so it was hard for her.’
‘But she still loved you and wanted you.’
She met his frowning gaze. Could she risk telling him the whole truth or would it be safer to give him a cut-down version of it? She was tired of holding this dark secret inside.
Tired and lonely and utterly isolated.
No one but her mother and stepfather knew about the circumstances of her birth but they didn’t like talking about it any more than she did. The lie was the elephant in the room quietly rotting in the corner. Wasn’t it time to tell Vinn? He’d been her husband, her lover, and in some ways the first person who’d made her feel normal and acceptable. Then there would be one other person she could talk to about the shame that clung to her like grime. It wouldn’t change the circumstances of her conception but it would mean she didn’t have to keep it a secret from him any longer. It was too late to repair their marriage, mostly because they shouldn’t have married in the first place, but surely she owed him the truth before the divorce was made final? ‘She didn’t want me, Vinn. That was the problem. She never wanted me.’
‘Why do you say that? Surely she didn’t say that to you?’
Ailsa gave him a tortured smile. ‘Some things you don’t have to say out loud, especially to kids. I was a mistake. I should never have been born.’
Vinn’s expression was full of concern and he came up close to rest his hands on the top of her bare shoulders, his long tanned fingers warm and gentle on her flesh. ‘But what about your dad, Michael? Does he make you feel the same as your mother?’
Ailsa knew she had come to a crossroads in her relationship with Vinn. If she took the truth turn, things would never be the same. If she took the white lie turn, things would be the same but di
fferent. It was strange because she was dressed in nothing but a fluffy white bath towel and it felt as if the towel symbolised the white lie she was hiding behind. Once she stripped it away she would be naked.
Emotionally naked.
Vinn’s hands gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze. ‘Talk to me, cara.’ His voice was deep and gravelly, making her insides melt.
Ironic he should say that when she’d been the one to insist he talk to her. ‘Vinn...’ Ailsa sighed and placed her hands on his chest and suppressed a shiver as she felt his warm hard muscles flex beneath her palms, as if her touch shook him to the core as his did to her. ‘The thing is... Michael isn’t really my father. He’s my stepfather.’ She took a deep breath and went on. ‘I have never met my real father and nor would I ever want to.’
‘Why’s that?’ There was a note of unease in Vinn’s tone and a gentling in the way his hands held her.
Ailsa swallowed tightly. ‘My mother was raped at a party. She didn’t tell anyone about the assault as she blamed herself for getting tipsy. By the time she realised she was pregnant it was too late to do anything about it. She eventually told my stepfather, who was her boyfriend at the time, and he insisted on marrying her and bringing me up as his own.’
Vinn’s face was riven with shock but overlying that was concern—rich, dark concern that pulsed in his gaze as it held hers. ‘Oh, cara... That’s so... I don’t know what to say. When did you find out? Was it recently? Did they tell you or—?’
‘I found out when I was fifteen. They were never going to tell me. They’d made a pact about it.’
A heavy frown carved deep into his forehead. ‘You’ve known since you were fifteen?’
Ailsa tried not to be daunted by the slightly accusatory tone of his voice. ‘I overheard them arguing about it one day when I came home earlier than expected. My stepfather thought I should be told but Mum didn’t. I confronted them about it and my mother reluctantly told me about the assault.’
‘But Ailsa, why didn’t you tell me?’ His voice was hoarse and his hands fell away from her as if he couldn’t bear to touch her. ‘Why keep something like that from me? Your own husband, for God’s sake.’
Ailsa tried to read his expression. Was it anger or disgust that made his eyes so dark and glittery? ‘So this is suddenly all about you now, is it?’ she said. ‘I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me like you’re looking at me now. As something disgusting and freakish and ghastly.’
‘I am not looking at you like—’
‘Do you know what it’s like to find out you’re the child of rape?’ Ailsa said, not giving him time to answer. ‘It’s disgusting and freakish and ghastly. Every time I look in the mirror I’m reminded of it. I look nothing like my mother, and of course I don’t look like my stepfather. The face my mother sees when she sees me is the face of her rapist. A man who has never been charged and is probably out there with a wife and kids of his own by now. How could my mother ever love me? I’m the embodiment of her worst nightmare. She thought she was doing the right thing in keeping me. Michael thought he was doing the right thing by marrying her and bringing me up as his own. But they wouldn’t have got married if it hadn’t been for me. Their relationship was doomed from the start and it was my fault. No surprise they got a divorce a few months after I found out. I’ve ruined so many lives.’
‘Cara...’ Vinn took a step towards her, his features still contorted with concern. ‘You’ve done no such thing. You’re the innocent victim here. Your mother too, and Michael. What happened was shocking. Even more shocking that justice hasn’t been served.’
Ailsa turned away, frightened she might break down in front of him. Over the years she had taught herself not to cry. She vented her distress in other ways—tantrums, anger, sarcasm and put-downs.
She felt him come up behind her, his tall frame like a strong fortress. His hands went to her waist this time, resting there with such exquisite gentleness a ropey knot formed in her throat and she had to swallow furiously a couple of times to clear it.
Vinn rested his chin on the top of her head and cradled her against his body in a supportive embrace that stirred her body into feverish awareness. ‘Thank you for telling me. It must have been difficult for you to keep that to yourself all this time.’
Ailsa slowly turned in his arms and somehow her arms were around his waist as if programmed to do so. The way their bodies fitted together felt so natural, so right, like two pieces of a complicated puzzle slotting together. She looked up into his gaze and was surprised to see tenderness. ‘You have to promise me something, Vinn. Please don’t tell Isaac.’
His frown was back. ‘He doesn’t know?’
‘No, and I don’t want him to, nor do my mother or stepfather want him to find out.’
‘Is that wise? I mean...keeping this a secret hasn’t helped you or your mother or stepfather. In fact, it’s made things so much worse.’
Ailsa dropped her arms from around his waist and stepped away. ‘Don’t make me regret telling you, Vinn. I absolutely insist Isaac doesn’t find out. I couldn’t bear it if he no longer saw me as his sister. I just couldn’t bear it.’
There was a beat or two of silence.
‘All right.’ His tone was both resigned and reluctant. ‘If that’s what you insist. But will you tell your mother and Michael I now know?’
Ailsa hadn’t thought that far ahead. She chewed at her lower lip, wondering if she’d done the right thing in telling Vinn after all. ‘I don’t see either of them much these days.’ She chanced a glance at him and saw he was frowning again. ‘They weren’t too happy with me when I announced I was divorcing you. They thought I should’ve tried harder.’
‘I’m the one who should have tried harder, cara.’ His voice was weighted with regret and his expression rueful.
Ailsa was still thinking of something to say in response when his phone rang from where he’d left it on the bedside table. Vinn moved across to pick it up and, after a brief conversation, the lines of worry etched into his face began to ease. ‘Thank you for letting me know. Ciao.’
‘Was that the hospital?’
Vinn nodded and let out a breath that sounded as if he’d been holding it for years. ‘They’ve removed him from the ventilator. He’s conscious and stable for the moment.’
Ailsa let out her own breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. ‘I’m so glad. Do you want to go and see him or is it too early?’
‘I’ll go in now but you stay here. It’s just close relatives allowed at the moment.’
She tried not to feel shut out but how could she not? She wasn’t close family any more. Strictly speaking, she was no longer Vinn’s wife. She was nothing to him now. Sure, he might desire her but how long would that last? He’d set a time limit on their ‘reconciliation’. She was little more than a mistress to him now. Someone to have sex with but not to build a future and a life together.
CHAPTER SEVEN
VINN DROVE LIKE a robot to the hospital to see his grandfather but it was Ailsa on his mind, not the frail old man. How could she have kept the secret of her background from him? Had he known her at all back then? Why had she felt she couldn’t tell him something so important about her childhood? It explained so much about her reluctance to discuss having a family. He could only imagine what it must feel like, not knowing who her father was. He knew his all too well and, while deeply ashamed of the things his father had done and having been hurtfully and repeatedly let down by him, Vinn had still loved him.
While on one level he could understand Ailsa keeping her dark secret from him, another part was angry she hadn’t trusted him with it earlier. There was a war going on inside him—a war between anger and compassion. One part of him recognised the trauma it must have been for Ailsa to find out her father was a criminal—a beast who’d taken advantage of her mother in the most despicable w
ay. And yet another part of him felt angry Ailsa hadn’t opened up to him. It was ironic but they had shared so much sexually, been adventurous and open about what they liked and didn’t like. How could she have shared her body so openly and yet not her heart?
Not that he had any right to sit in judgement. He knew there were things he hadn’t shared either. Things that had shaped him, moulded him, changed him. Like losing his mother so unexpectedly and the grief and bone-deep sadness that followed—sadness that still clung to him, haunting him with a lingering feeling of isolation and loneliness. He had learned from an early age to be self-sufficient.
To rely on no one but himself.
Even though his grandparents had been as supportive as they could, Vinn had still kept a part of himself contained, held back in case they too were snatched away from him.
Finding out about Ailsa’s past now, when they were so close to divorcing, deepened his regret. Made it harder to grapple with because he had always blamed her for the breakup. He had given her everything money could buy, spoilt her as most women loved to be spoilt, but she had given nothing of herself but access to her body.
He felt shut out.
Locked out.
Lied to.
He’d made it his business to know every inch of her body. He had prided himself on their sex life—the frequency of it, the power and potency of it. The monumental satisfaction of it. But she had kept the most important information about herself from him.
It reminded him of how his father had kept the truth about his mother’s death from him. But in the end it had only made things worse. He hadn’t been adequately prepared for the blunt shock of the truth. He’d always wondered if his father had gently led him through that time with honesty instead of cowardly lies and cover-ups, he might have coped better with the loss of his mother.
Now he was left floundering again. Shocked. Stunned. Angry that Ailsa hadn’t trusted him enough with the truth, as painful and heartbreaking as it was. If he had known earlier he might have been able to rescue their relationship, to tread more carefully over the issue of having a family. But he hadn’t had all the information back then because she had wanted his body but not his trust.
Blackmailed into the Marriage Bed Page 11