Her eyes flickered with some emotion he didn’t recognise and then he saw the resignation.
‘This way.’
Her eyes darted around, presumably looking for security officers who might be patrolling this area of the castle, but she needn’t have worried. The very fact that their kiss would most certainly have been watched on the security monitors meant they’d see no one now. The staff at Poltenbrunn were adept at not being seen.
He kept a tight hold on her until they reached the door to his private apartment. Marianne looked over her shoulder at him as he held the door open, then she walked in. Her shoulders were tense and her beautiful face as strained as he’d ever seen it.
Seb pulled his hand through his hair, unsure quite what he hoped to achieve. It was clear, though, that they couldn’t continue as they were. Every time they were together something flared between them. Lust? Love? He didn’t know. But he’d tried hiding from her and that hadn’t worked.
He switched on a side-lamp and the warm light pooled around it. Then he moved across to dim the central lights. ‘Whisky?’
‘Please. A small one.’
Seb glanced over his shoulder. Marianne stood in the centre of the room, one arm clutching at the elbow of the other. Why did she look so broken?
‘Ice?’
‘Please.’
He put the ice in the bottom of the glass and then poured in the whisky. ‘It’s a single malt,’ he said, handing it across to her.
‘Thank you.’
‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he said, turning away to pour a second drink. There had to be an easy place to start this conversation, but he was damned if he could think of it.
What he really wanted to know was what she wanted from their relationship and, since he didn’t know what he wanted from it himself, that was a difficult question to ask. They had options. Options that hadn’t been there a decade ago.
Seb turned round to find Marianne hadn’t moved. One hand was fiercely clutching the glass tumbler, the other clutching at the hand that held it. Surely this was about more than having been caught kissing on camera?
He walked over to her. ‘Marianne…’ He stopped and looked down at her hands, knuckles white with the pressure she was putting on the glass. ‘We used to be able to talk to one another—’
‘I talked. You didn’t, Seb.’ The expression in her usually soft brown eyes shocked him. It wasn’t anger. It was hurt. Deep, profound hurt.
‘ said, moving across to an attractive grouping of sofa and chairs. ‘Please.’
She moved stiffly, her hands still tightly closed around her tumbler. He waited until she’d chosen her seat and then he deliberately sat opposite, where he could see her face.
Marianne took a small sip of her whisky and he could see she made a conscious decision to relax. Her hands loosened their grip and her shoulders visibly lowered. He sat, silently, waiting until she was ready to continue.
‘I only realised just now how difficult it must have been for you when we were together in France. Not to be able to talk about any of the things that mattered to you.’
Seb went to speak and then realised he’d nothing to say.
‘When I told you about the house I grew up in…’ she stopped and took another sip of her whisky. ‘…you said nothing about where you’d grown up. Because you couldn’t. I’d not noticed that before. I’m so stupid.’
Seb eased out the muscles in his neck.
Marianne’s hair swung down in front of her face and her fingers moved against her glass. ‘I feel such a fool for not noticing.’
He cleared his throat and thought of how to explain what had happened back then. He’d already tried to explain in London…
Or thought he had. Perhaps he hadn’t? All he’d really done was present a calm justification of what he’d done to her ten years ago and why. He hadn’t explained anything other than his reasons for leaving her.
Maybe that was where this conversation needed to begin?
‘It didn’t feel awkward,’ he said slowly. His smile twisted as he tried to search out the words. This—being honest—was difficult. He’d deliberately not thought much about their time together. Once it was over there hadn’t seemed much point. ‘I liked hearing you talk.’
Marianne looked up, her hair falling back to softly frame her face. She looked like an angel. And he still liked hearing her talk. Liked the way she didn’t simply agree with everything he said.
‘I’d never met anyone who’d gone to the local non-selective school. Or who’d lived in a house that shared a wall with anyone else’s.’
Her eyes flicked across to him. She was listening. And listening hard.
His fingers traced the rim of his tumbler. ‘It fascinated me that if you did your piano practice before eight o’ clock in the morning Mr Bayden from next door would bang on the wall.’ He smiled, hoping she understood what he was trying to say. ‘I didn’t want to talk about me. I wasn’t conscious of not being able to, just of not wanting to. Does that make any sense?’
There was a small delay before she nodded.
Seb let go of the breath he’d been holding, then continued more confidently. ‘And I knew that as soon as I told you who I was…everything would change. I didn’t want things to change. I liked being Seb Rodier. I liked being able to walk to the local café and find a bench by the Seine and watch the street performers…’
He heard her small sniff and saw her brush her sleeve against her nose. He’d not seen a woman do that since…she’d done it when she’d been helping him pack his bag.
Damn!
Seb put his whisky down on a side-table and ran both hands through his hair. He’d made a mess of everything. When he’d left her he’d honestly meant to contact her. More than that—his real plan had been to return to Paris. She’d known that. Forty-eight hours, he’d told her…
Only what he’d found at home had been life-changing. Very different from anything he’d expected.
‘What happened to you?’ he asked quietly.
Marianne’s hands moved against the glass. Her shoulders moved in a defensive shrug. ‘When you didn’t come back?’
‘Yes.’
She brushed the back of her hand across her nose again. Seb stood up and walked across to his dressing room, coming back with a starched white handkerchief.
‘And?’ he said, holding it out to her.
Marianne looked at it and then gave a tiny smile. ‘You know, the rest of the world use paper tissues.’ But she took it and held it balled against her glass.
He waited. She would tell him what had happened to her…if he waited. He was confident of that.
‘When you didn’t come back…’
‘Yes.’
Her eyes flicked up to his and then away. Seb still waited, his body braced to hear whatever it was she was finding so hard to say.
She took another small sip of whisky. ‘When I couldn’t afford to stay at our hotel any longer I met Beth and we pooled our francs to settle the bill.’
He’d forgotten the bill. Seb pulled a hand through his hair. Dear God, forgive him. He’d left her to pay for their hotel room.
‘Then we travelled to Honfleur together. Monsieur and Madame Merchand were lovely.’ She drew a shaky breath. ‘And Honfleur is a really beautiful place. Old. Lots of tall, thin houses.’
He nodded, though he’d no idea what Honfleur was like.
‘And the little girl I was helping look after was sweet. I’d have been all right, I think, only my period didn’t come.’ She looked across at him, watching for his reaction. ‘I was regular as clockwork, so it was strange, but I thought it might be because I was missing you. Sad, you know? Sometimes that messes up your cycle.’ Her fingers moved against the glass. ‘Anyway, that’s what I thought.’
Pregnant!
Marianne had been pregnant? Seb’s mind was one expletive. Of all the things he’d expected Marianne to say, this hadn’t figured anywhere. ‘You were pregnant?’
&
nbsp; Marianne nodded. ‘Beth and I went to buy a pregnancy test on the Monday after we got there. We were really embarrassed to ask for it.’ She wiped her nose against the handkerchief. ‘It was positive. Very clear. A dark blue line.’ She moved her hand in a single stroke downwards.
There was probably something he should say here, but Seb couldn’t think of anything. Marianne had been pregnant. Eighteen, pregnant and in a strange country.
‘I told the Merchands I had to go home. I didn’t tell them why. Just that I needed to go home.’
He nodded.
‘They were very nice about it. Helped me sort out a ticket and Beth came with me to the station.’
He watched as she crumbled. First her hands twitched against the glass and then her bottom lip trembled. He saw her catch at it with her small white teeth. Then the tears started to fall in earnest.
And he sat there, powerless to do anything. He wanted to walk over and hold her, but he didn’t quite dare.
‘She died, Seb.’ Her voice was so soft and laced with a kind of despair. ‘Jessica died.’
Marianne’s words hit him hard. He wasn’t quite sure what to react to first. He’d left Marianne pregnant with no easy way of contacting him. And their baby had died.
She took another shaky sip of whisky, and the glass tapped against her teeth. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t going to tell you—’
‘You’re sorry? What have you got to be sorry about?’ He moved then, coming to sit beside her on the sofa. He took the glass from her agitated fingers and placed it on the side-table, before reaching out to hold her hand. She didn’t pull away. In fact, her fingers twitched inside his. ‘Our baby died?’
‘Jessica. I called her Jessica.’ Marianne nodded and another tear welled up and slowly, so slowly, spilled onto her cheek.
Seb lifted a hand to smooth back her hair, his fingers lightly brushing across her left temple, and then he drew her back until she rested against him. He felt solid. Strong. ‘Tell me.’
Marianne couldn’t. Not for a minute or two. The words wouldn’t come. She could hear the solid, steady beat of his heart. One hand gently stroked her hair and his fingers brushed against her neck. The other held her hand.
She felt so tired. So very tired.
‘Everyone wanted to know why I’d come back early.’ Her words sounded slurred and her eyelids felt heavy.
‘What did your parents do?’ His voice was a distant rumble.
‘Cried. My mother cried a lot. She was so disappointed…and embarrassed.’ Seb’s fingers moved against the base of her neck.
Marianne felt a light kiss on the top of her head. So soft she might have been mistaken. She fumbled for the handkerchief and tried to sit more upright. Seb let her go and she blew her nose.
‘Do you want some more whisky?’ Seb asked, nodding at her empty glass.
Marianne reached out to pick it up off the table. ‘Please.’
She watched him walk over to the drinks table and put in first the ice cubes and then a generous dash of the amber liquid. What was he thinking now? Was he angry with her? He didn’t seem angry. Though why she thought he would be she didn’t know. Only that so many people had been.
Marianne brushed her hair off her face and waited for him to walk back with her drink. Two whiskies. Her mother would be disappointed by that, too. ‘Thank you.’
He smiled and sat back down beside her. His eyes were warm. ‘Is that when you went to live with professor Blackwell and his family?’
Marianne nodded. ‘My mother couldn’t cope. She thought everyone in the village was talking.’ She gave a swift, humourless smile. ‘They were, too: “Pregnant without a boyfriend in sight”. She thought I’d be better off in a hostel for girls in a similar position.’
She swirled the liquid round in her glass, watching it crash against the ice rocks. Funny how you could do that with words. Say one thing and mean something entirely different. Her mother had said that she’d be better off in a hostel, but what she’d meant was that it would be better for her.
And she’d been so frightened by that. She’d gone from being a ‘golden’ girl to being something that needed to be hidden away. She’d spoilt everything. All talk of university had been over.
‘But my aunt Tia rang Eliana and I went to live with her…and her family.’
Seb pulled her in close against him. She liked that. Liked that he just held her. Ten years ago she’d ached for him to do that. When she’d been so lonely…
‘How many months pregnant were you when you lost the baby?’
‘Seven.’ She swallowed, struggling to get the words out. ‘It was late. Very late.’
Another soft kiss on her hair. She wasn’t in any doubt this time. Seb’s arms had tightened around her and he’d kissed her. Which meant he didn’t blame her for getting pregnant.
Everyone else had seemed to blame her—except Eliana, who’d been kind. And they’d made plans for the future. Worked out ways she could continue to study. Talked about careers that combined well with motherhood.
The only time Eliana had been cross with her was when she’d refused to make an effort to contact the baby’s father to say she was pregnant.
Marianne balled the handkerchief tightly up against the whisky tumbler. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’
She took another sip of whisky. It was lovely the way it burnt a trail down her throat. Warming. Gently soothing. Like Seb’s fingers moving in small circles at the nape of her neck.
‘Did you try?’
She shook her head. ‘At first I thought you’d come and find me. Then I imagined you’d had an accident. Amnesia maybe. You read about that sometimes. In books.’
Silence.
‘Then I was too angry.’
‘At what point did you find out I’d lied about who I was?’
Marianne registered his use of the word ‘lie’ and it was like a soothing balm.
‘That was later. I didn’t know for weeks.’ She took another sip of whisky. ‘I didn’t understand why you’d left me. I was frightened by so many changes so quickly. Hurt by my mum and dad. Just taking one day at a time.’
Seb reached out and gently pushed back her hair so he could look into her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
His own eyes were so warm. So incredibly warm. Then he kissed her forehead and tucked her close against him, his chin resting on the top of her head. She could feel him breathing.
‘It didn’t seem real until I could feel the baby move inside me.’ She sipped her drink. ‘Little kicks—sometimes she had the hiccups. When I went to my first scan I thought she looked like a kidney bean. Kind of.’
Marianne cradled the tumbler in her hand and looked down at the deep gold colour and the softly melting ice cubes. That scan had been an amazing experience.
She’d gone in a frightened girl and walked out determined to be the best mother she could, whatever the personal cost. She’d seen her baby and she’d loved her. ‘Everything was going normally. She was moving about, sucking her thumb.’
Seb planted another soft kiss against her hair. ‘And then she stopped moving inside me. I knew something was wrong straight away. Eliana told me not to panic, that babies were sometimes quiet for a while. But we rang the midwife anyway and she said to go to the hospital…as a precaution.’
It had been a long drive into Cambridge. They’d hit all the school traffic and it had been difficult to find a space in the hospital car park.
‘They hooked me up to a monitor and tried to find a heartbeat.’ Her voice became choked. Maybe this was more information than he needed. Wasn’t it enough to know their baby had died?
‘The midwife called a doctor and she told me that the machines sometimes played up, so they’d send me for a scan.’ She dragged air into her body. ‘And after that scan I had a second scan, but it was the same result: “The amniotic fluid around the baby severely reduced” and they could find “no foetal movement”.’
Jessica was dead.
Marianne sat up
and drank the last of her whisky. Her head felt slightly fuzzy from the alcohol, but that was good.
‘They said they’d have to terminate the pregnancy.’ ‘Terminate’—such a neat word for what had followed. ‘So they gave me a labour-inducing injection—’
‘You had to give birth?’
His question seemed to have been wrenched from him. ‘I was seven months pregnant. Everyone said it would be safer.’
Seb’s face seemed to have become two shades paler. She passed him her empty glass to put on the table. ‘They let me hold her,’ she smiled tremulously, ‘when she was born. She was lovely. She had little fingers with tiny, tiny nails. Completely perfect.’ Marianne drew in a shuddering breath. ‘But she was dead.’
Her little girl had been so beautiful…and had looked so peaceful.
‘Eliana said I should give her a name. So I called her Jessica.’
‘Jessica,’ he repeated softly.
‘It means “God is watching”.’ Marianne brushed a hand across her face. ‘Eliana thought that was nice because God would watch over her now. Keep her safe for me.’
And that was it really. No need to tell him how it had felt to go home without her baby girl. How it had felt to look down at her stomach and not really believe it was empty.
There was no need to tell him any of that because one glance at his face told her that he knew. His eyes were bleak—as though something inside of him had died too.
‘They did an autopsy and said they thought she must have been strangled by her umbilical cord because everything else was normal. Just one of those things.’
Seb reached for her and held her tight against him. His warmth wrapped about her and she lay quietly against his chest. This would have helped her. Back then. Eliana had been good, but she’d needed Seb.
She felt so tired.
‘About three weeks after that I saw a photograph of you with your fiancée.’
With his arms about her that didn’t seem so difficult to say. Didn’t hurt so much.
‘That’s how you discovered who I was?’ he asked, speaking into her hair.
Marianne nodded. She felt so tired and the effect of the whisky was biting. ‘I hated you then,’ she said, her words blurred and indistinct. ‘That’s why I can’t do this. Can’t let you hurt me again.’
Harlequin Romance Bundle: Crowns and Cowboys Page 41