His mouth took a sympathetic downturn, but his eyes were still laughing. ‘I know. It’s always hard for over-achievers to understand that work isn’t everything.’
‘That’s not... There are plenty of things in my life besides work.’
‘Oh, of course. Like running around after your family and friends, making their lives run smoothly.’
‘Aren’t you doing the same for your brother?’
Ben shook his head. ‘Not at all. My job is my job, and I am compensated very handsomely for it, thank you.’
‘There isn’t a price you can put on love.’
‘No,’ Ben said, his voice suddenly, shockingly hard. ‘There isn’t. But what you do for them? That isn’t love. That’s pandering.’
Luce’s emotions swung back again. No, he hadn’t changed. Not at all. He still thought that he and his thoughts, his wants, his opinions, were the only things in the world that mattered. Couldn’t begin to imagine that he might be wrong. That it might be different for other people.
‘No—listen to me.’
Ben reached out and grabbed her hand with his own as he spoke, and Luce looked up into unexpectedly serious eyes.
‘What do you want more than anything in the world?’
His skin against hers. His attention firmly placed on her. Those were the only reasons she felt a jolt of lust through her body at his question. The only reason her mind answered, You.
Luce pulled her hand away. Note to self: I do not want to sleep with this man. It would be disastrous.
‘I want my family to be happy. Settled.’ Because, she admitted, to herself if not out loud, if they were—if they didn’t need her so damn much—maybe she could go out and find what made her happy.
‘Because that would set you free?’ Ben said.
Luce’s gaze shot to his in surprise.
‘Because if they were happy you wouldn’t have to worry about them. But, Luce, they’re never going to be happy and settled without you as long as you’re still there bailing them out at every turn. You’ll give and give until there’s nothing of you left. And then you’ll crack. My mother—’ He stopped, looked away. ‘I’ve seen it before. You can’t give up your own life for your family.’
Luce swallowed. ‘You have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘I think I do.’ The words were bitter.
But he didn’t. And Luce couldn’t tell him. How could she explain a grandfather who’d worked hard all his life for the little he had to a man who’d been born with everything? How could she explain the importance of doing the best job she could, giving it everything she had so she could be proud of herself at the end of the day? His job meant nothing to Ben, was just a means to an end. It was all about the money. So how could she explain the passion she felt when she uncovered a hidden bit of women’s history? When she brought untold stories to light?
‘You don’t. My grandfather’s last words to me... He made me promise to take care of my family. I’m the only one, you see. My mother’s a wonderful woman, but she’s lost in her own world most of the time. And my brother and sister inherited that. They don’t see the real world. None of them do. That’s why they need me.’
‘They’re not your responsibility.’
Ben’s voice was gentle, but the words still stung.
‘And maybe it’s time for a change. For them to learn to look after themselves.’
Luce shook her head. ‘I told you. They are what they are. They’re not going to change now.’
‘Not if you don’t give them the chance.’
That wasn’t fair. ‘People don’t change. Not really.’
‘Not even you?’ Ben asked, eyebrow raised.
Luce laughed. ‘Especially not me. I’m exactly the same Lucinda Myles you remember from university, right?’
Ben’s gaze trailed slowly across her face, down her body, and Luce felt her blood warm.
‘Not exactly the same.’
‘That’s not the point. My family are my responsibility, whatever you think.’ Because they were all she had, too. And wasn’t that a sad thing, at twenty-eight, to have nothing else but a family that needed you? Luce drained the last of her wine. ‘I think it’s time to go home,’ she said, and Ben nodded.
They were halfway to the cottage before she realised she’d called it ‘home’ again.
* * *
They walked back to the cottage in silence. The snow had stopped, at last, but the paths were still slippery underfoot. The air stung Ben’s lungs as they climbed the path, making it too painful to talk even if he’d had any idea of what to say.
Why was she so entrenched in solving things for her family? Because she’d promised her grandfather? That didn’t seem enough. There had to be something else, but he was damned if he could figure out what. When would she learn? You couldn’t fix everything for anyone. So you did what you could and you moved on. You couldn’t let other people pull you down.
Had she been like this at university? He couldn’t remember. She must have gone home a lot, though, since he and Mandy had often taken advantage of the flat being empty at weekends. A sliver of self-loathing jarred into him. Of course that was what he remembered. Why hadn’t he paid more attention to Luce then?
Or perhaps the better question was, why was he paying so much attention to her now?
Finally they reached the cottage and Ben dug in his pockets for the keys. Luce waited silently at his side for the door to open. Inside, the under-floor heating was doing its job admirably, which was just as well as the fire had all but burnt out. They both stripped off their outer layers, and Ben took the coats and hung them by the back door. When he turned round Luce still stood where he’d left her, looking at him, her eyes huge and sad.
‘Do you really believe that your family aren’t your responsibility?’
She looked distraught at the idea that anyone could believe such a thing. She should have spent some time with my old man.
He wanted to say the right thing. Words that would make her smile again, as she had over dinner. But he wasn’t going to lie to her.
‘I think that your family need to learn to manage without you for a while. You can’t mortgage your own life, your own happiness, for theirs.’
Luce just shook her head. ‘We really haven’t changed at all, have we?’
Despite her assertions that people didn’t change, she sounded so forlorn at the idea that Ben moved closer, his body determined to comfort her even if his mind knew it was a bad idea. His hands settled at her waist as she spoke again.
‘We’re exactly the same people we were at university.’
‘No.’ Even to his own ears his voice sounded harsh. ‘We’re not.’
Luce looked up at him. She was so close that he could see the uncertainty in her eyes.
‘Aren’t we? I may not wear jeans and baggy jumpers every day, but I’d still rather be working than in the pub. Tonight notwithstanding,’ she added, a small smile on her lips.
‘You came to the pub, though. That’s new.’
‘Maybe. And what about you? Back then...’
‘I spent every night in the pub and didn’t care about work,’ Ben finished for her. ‘I promise you that tonight is not representative of my adult life.’
‘Back then,’ Luce repeated, ‘you cared about yourself first. Your own happiness was most important, and you didn’t want the responsibility of anyone else’s on your shoulders.’
A memory struck him—something long forgotten and hidden. A book-lined room and a dark-haired girl in the moonlight, a plain dress draped over her body, fear and confusion in her eyes as he moved closer. Had that really been him? No wonder Mandy had ditched him. He hadn’t cared about Luce’s happiness then, had he? Or the responsibility he had to his girlfriend. Hell. Did Luce remember? She must. That was why she’d asked. No wonder she needed to know if he’d changed.
‘I care enough about you to try and help you finish your book. Reclaim your life.’ He was grasping at s
traws, he knew. Trying to find something to show her he had changed.
Luce tipped her head to the side. ‘Do you? Or are you just trying to get me into bed?’
‘I can’t do both?’ Ben joked, but Luce’s face was serious. He sighed. ‘Trust me, I wouldn’t do all of this just for sex.’ He pulled away, but her hand brushed his arm, a silent request to stay close, and despite the desperate urge to leave this conversation behind and retreat to his room with a bottle of whisky, Ben found he couldn’t move.
‘I have to know. Do you really not remember your twenty-first? Are you sure you’re not trying to make up for that night?’
Ben shook his head automatically. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he should.
‘Or finish what you started?’
‘I didn’t even remember until just now. I...I knew I hadn’t been kind to you back then. Maybe that was why I took you to dinner last night. Gave you somewhere to stay. This is something entirely different.’
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she stepped forward, closer than before, so close that he could feel her breath through the cotton of his shirt. She looked up, her eyes bright, and Ben felt his breath catch in his chest.
‘Then the only thing I can think is that you wanted me here so you could hear me beg you to seduce me.’
God, yes. Heat flooded through his body at her words, fierce and unchecked. Her lashes fluttered shut over her eyes and Ben knew this was his chance. This was the closest she’d let herself get to asking for what she wanted. This was the moment he should sweep her up in his arms and off to bed, like Owain kidnapping Nest.
And he couldn’t.
He couldn’t be what she remembered—alcohol on his breath as he pushed a kiss on her, whether she wanted it or not. He was a different man now, and she needed to know that. People really did change.
Stepping back caused him physical pain. His muscles were aching to stay with her, to pull her against his chest and hold her close.
‘Not like this,’ he said, his voice hoarse.
And then he walked away.
CHAPTER NINE
LUCE WOKE UP on Wednesday morning determined not to spend one more sleepless night on Ben Hampton.
She was through. From nights spent waiting for him and Mandy to kick everyone else out of the flat and go to bed at university, to the long, long night after she ran away from him in the hotel library, to that night in Chester, to last night, spent wondering and wondering. It was enough.
It didn’t matter if he’d changed his mind about seducing her. In fact it was a good thing that he hadn’t. Because the very last thing Luce needed at the moment was someone else needing her to take care of their lives. She had a book to write, after all, and Ben Hampton’s life was a mess—even if he was too busy trying to fix hers to notice it.
Actually, she told herself, staring up at the uneven ceiling of the cottage, it was probably all for the best. She’d made a decision eight years ago not to get involved with this man. A decision she’d renewed and confirmed in Chester, and again yesterday when he brought her to the cottage. She might have nearly broken that resolution because of too much wine and conversation, or because of a brief, misguided hope that people really could change, but that wasn’t enough. She should thank Ben, really, for not taking advantage of her vulnerable position and letting her stick to her beliefs.
Not that she was going to, of course.
Shifting under the sheet, Luce turned over with a sigh. The problem was that she wanted him. She might not be the most obviously sexual person in the world—but she was an academic, not a nun. Although they might as well be the same thing at the moment. Too much time working, researching, writing, lecturing... It didn’t leave a lot of time for romance. Or even just a fun encounter with a gorgeous guy.
But Luce wasn’t supposed to want that, was she? It wasn’t the way she was made. Wasn’t in her history. No, she was supposed to study, to learn, to improve herself. Sex didn’t improve anything in her admittedly limited experience. Hell, even Nest, in her restricted, disapproving time, had managed to have more sex with considerably more guys than Luce had.
Her head flopped back against the pillow and she finally admitted the truth to herself. She’d wanted Ben Hampton last night. And, more than that, she’d wanted him to make the first move—to take her—so that she could rationalise away her desire this morning. She’d wanted to be able to say it was a weak moment, that it was the wine and the romantic snowbound cottage. She’d wanted to be able to move on and forget it without admitting that sex with him was something she really wanted.
Craved. Needed.
Well, she was just going to have to get used to going without. Because there was no way she could ask him for it now. Humiliation really wasn’t her colour, and she wouldn’t risk him turning her down again.
Damn it.
With a deep breath, Luce sat up. ‘Time to move on,’ she said softly.
Her room—the spare room—had a desk, a king-sized bed and an en suite bathroom. If you had to be stranded in the middle of nowhere, Luce figured this was the sort of place you wanted to be stuck. It wasn’t a particularly feminine room, but then, Luce wouldn’t have expected it to be. Ben had decorated it, after all. The huge bed was draped in a wine-red quilt, soft and cosy, with cushions and pillows piled up at the head. Beside the bed stood a chenille-covered armchair, perfect for curling up with a book. And under the window was the desk—sturdy, probably antique, and exactly what she needed. Slipping out of bed, Luce ran a hand across its scarred wooden surface and for the first time could imagine herself finishing her book. Telling Nest’s story to the world, finally, the way she wanted it to be known.
Might as well make the best of a bad situation. She was stuck there at least until Ben woke up. She’d retrieved her laptop from the car before their trip to the pub, so she could at least get some work done.
Luce listened for movement outside her door and, hearing nothing, risked slipping out long enough to make a pot of tea and some toast and sneak it back into her room. Then, wrapped up in her pyjamas, socks and an old jumper she’d found in one of the drawers, she settled down at her desk.
Ben Hampton didn’t matter any more. All that did matter was telling Nest’s story the right way.
* * *
There was no sign of Luce when Ben emerged from his room the next morning. Which was probably for the best. His surge of nobility, admittedly spurred on by a determination to prove that he had changed in the last eight years, might not have lasted in the face of Luce in pyjamas. Or a nightdress. Or maybe nothing at all...
After a night of contemplating the possibilities, and imagining what might have happened if he’d just kissed her properly and carried her off to bed, those images were firmly burned onto his brain. God only knew what it was going to take to get them out again. And knowing she was just metres away, probably still in bed, really wasn’t helping.
Ben eyed the closed bedroom door, grabbed his keys and headed out. Fresh air and distance was what he needed. And he could check out the state of the roads while he was at it.
Ben took the drive into the village slowly. The snow showed no sign of melting, but the roads were clearer than he’d expected—obviously some of the local farm vehicles had already been out. Ben parked up outside the Eight Bells and decided he deserved a warming cup of something, and maybe some of Tracy’s homemade cake, before he hit the village store for supplies and a weather forecast.
Johnny, the landlord, raised his eyebrows from behind the pumps at the sight of him. ‘Didn’t expect to see you out of bed so early.’
‘It’s gone ten,’ Ben pointed out, leaning against the bar.
‘Exactly.’ Johnny reached behind him to flick the coffee machine on. ‘Tracy said it looked like you and your new friend were planning to hit the sheets for the rest of the week when you left here last night.’
‘Well, Tracy was wrong,’ Ben said, trying not to think about how close to right she might have been.
‘Besides, Luce is an old friend—not a new one. We were at university together.’ No need to get into the details.
‘Hmm.’ The corners of Johnny’s mouth dipped down for a moment, as if to say, Okay, then. If you say so, as he handed over a cup of coffee.
‘What?’
‘Just... You do realise she’s the first person—male or female—you’ve ever brought to my pub?’
‘So?’
‘Is she the first person you’ve taken up to your cottage at all?’
An uncomfortable feeling crept up Ben’s back. ‘Yeah. We were driving to Cardiff when the snow got heavy, so we stopped off here.’
‘That explains it, then, I guess. We just figured she must be someone important.’ He didn’t sound pleased at the explanation. ‘So. Old friend?’
‘Yeah, you know. Nice to catch up and stuff.’ Ben picked up his coffee, and motioned to one of the tables by the window. ‘Anyway, I’d better drink up and get back to her. Lousy host, really.’
‘I can imagine,’ Johnny said.
But the frown line between his eyebrows told Ben he was still a little disappointed by the set-up.
Why? he wondered as he made his way over to the table. Was it so inconceivable that he’d bring a friend to visit? Just because he hadn’t done it in the last few years? Why hadn’t he, actually? He supposed it hadn’t occurred to him. The women he spent time with all preferred a night at one of the hotels, the swankier the better, and since Hampton & Sons didn’t have anything under five stars except their newest acquisitions—in this case, the Royal Court, which had a measly four—it was easier just to check into the nearest one. And if he was meeting friends it was the local pub or the curry house. No need for them to trek all the way to the middle of nowhere in Wales. Besides, the cottage was his place. It was where he went when he needed to escape from the real world. There’d never been much point in bringing the real world with him.
Luce wasn’t the real world. This brief sojourn in the snow had nothing to do with reality. Once he’d taken her back to Cardiff the brief time bubble would be over and he’d forget all about her for another eight years, while he got on with his life and she refused to. Easy.
Stranded With the Tycoon Page 8