Her heart seemed to turn over in her breast.
‘That’s why I was so devastated when I saw you with Noel. I didn’t want to believe it. I might not have, if I hadn’t known that all through our relationship you’d been hiding something.’
When she made no attempt to deny it, he went on, ‘Every unexplained absence made me wonder if you were seeing another man. Were you?’
‘No.’
‘Then why all the secrecy? Why wouldn’t you tell me where you went?’ His frustration evident, he added, ‘I still don’t know.’
‘I went to the Pastures Nursing Home to see my mother,’ Madeleine blurted out. ‘She’d been in a coma for more than a year. She was injured in the same gas explosion that killed Colin.’
He looked up sharply. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Her voice unsteady, she admitted, ‘Because I felt so guilty…’
‘Guilty?’
‘Guilty that she was there… Guilty that Colin had died… Guilty that I hadn’t really loved him…’ Her eyes filled with tears.
Rafe reached out and took her hand. ‘Tell me,’ he said quietly. ‘Start at the beginning and tell me everything.’
When she had herself under control, she began tonelessly, ‘Colin was a very nice-looking man and a well-respected tutor. When he first took an interest in me I was flattered.
‘I enjoyed his company and what I saw then as his maturity, and, imagining myself in love, I agreed to marry him. Perhaps I was looking for a father figure, I don’t know…
‘As soon as I got my degree, we were married at a register office. He’d been sharing a small flat with a male colleague, so we moved in with my mother while we looked for a place of our own. Mum and he got on well together, and we were still there when the accident happened…’
‘You weren’t involved?’
Madeleine shook her head. ‘No. I was out shopping.’
‘Go on.’
‘We’d only been married a short time when I realised I’d made a terrible mistake. I started to feel trapped, and that made me on-edge. We began to have minor quarrels, tiffs over things that didn’t really matter.’
Her voice wobbled a little, and Rafe gave her hand a squeeze.
After a moment, she went on, ‘On Saturdays, when Mum and I did the week’s grocery shopping, Colin used to come with us…’
Rafe raised an eyebrow. ‘Most men detest that kind of shopping.’
‘He’d been a bachelor for a long time and he’d grown fussy about what he ate… Afterwards we’d all have lunch together at Bennets—the only place Colin would go to.’
‘Go on.’
‘The explosion happened just before lunch time on a Saturday. If we’d followed our usual routine we would have all been out. But at breakfast that morning, when Colin complained about the marmalade I snapped at him, and we ended up quarrelling yet again.
‘I wanted some breathing space, and that must have been obvious to Mum, because she suggested that I went shopping alone while Colin helped her finish the living room she’d been redecorating.
‘A new hearth had just been put in, and they discovered afterwards that a gas pipe leading to the log-effect fire had been fractured, which must have caused a build-up of gas behind the tiling. Colin was putting up bookshelves next to the fireplace… Using an electric drill…
‘I got back to find the house had been wrecked and Mum and Colin had been taken to hospital. Colin was dead when I got there.’
Rafe saw the numbness of despair on her face.
‘So all this time you’ve been blaming yourself.’
‘I was to blame.’
‘Don’t be foolish,’ he said gently. ‘It was an accident waiting to happen. If the three of you had gone shopping and had lunch out as usual, it would still have happened sooner or later…’
His rational explanation seemed to help clear her mind, and made her see the scenario differently. For some reason the inevitability of the accident had never occurred to her.
Rafe went on, ‘And, when it’s too late, a lot of people must discover they’ve made a mistake and married the wrong person. It’s not something to blame yourself for.’
As she felt the weight of guilt easing, he asked, ‘What about your mother?’
‘She died a few days after we split up.’
‘Dear God,’ he muttered.
‘If she’d still been alive I would never have gone to the States. As it was, I felt I had nothing left. I wanted to get away, to put all the pain and sadness behind me. I soon discovered it wasn’t possible…’
‘No.’
There was a long silence, before Rafe continued, ‘When you went I told myself I was glad. The further away the better. But I found I couldn’t let go. I had to know what you were doing, how you were. When I learnt you were coming home, it was with mixed emotions. Then after I’d talked to Eve and discovered that the whole charade had been in response to Fiona’s lies, that it had been she and Noel who had suggested the “other man” scenario, at first all I could feel was relief—’
‘There’s something I don’t understand,’ Madeleine broke in.
‘If you already knew the truth about Noel and me, why were you so horrible to me? Why did you talk about reparation?’
‘After the first flood of relief, anger kicked in. I was furious with you for not telling me about Fiona, furious with you for believing her lies, for not trusting me…
‘I just went mad. I blamed your lack of trust for all the pain and anguish, for losing us more than a year of our lives…’
If only that were all that had been lost.
‘Now the only thing I can do is apologise for the way I treated you…’
If only she had trusted him, instead of just becoming an obsession, something he wanted to free himself from, she might have kept his love.
Her eyes sparkled like jewels as tears welled up and splashed down her cheeks.
He rose as if to comfort her, then, as though he’d had second thoughts, he sat down again and passed her a spotless handkerchief.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled. She had just finished mopping her face and blowing her nose when she heard the strains of O, Little Town of Bethlehem.
Glancing at the window, she saw that a group of perhaps twelve people had collected. They were muffled up in scarves and gloves and woolly hats, and carrying carol sheets and candle-lanterns.
Turning startled eyes on Rafe, she saw he looked anything but surprised.
‘You were expecting them.’
‘Yes.’
‘Who are they?’
‘Estate staff. Most of them worked for the previous owner, and apparently it’s become the custom for them to gather on Christmas Eve to sing carols.
‘Then they assemble in the hall for dinner and a glass or two of mulled wine, which hopefully Annie will have waiting.’
Taking Madeleine’s hand, he drew her over to the window, and they stood hand in hand, listening, while the small company sang their way through all the old familiar carols.
As We Wish You a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year came to an end, the group dispersed.
‘Come on,’ Rafe said, taking Madeleine’s hand and leading her into the hall, where a huge log fire was blazing.
They got to the door just as the knock came. Throwing it open, he welcomed the singers inside.
As they all trooped in, stamping snow off their boots and wellingtons, Annie wheeled in a trolley loaded with a punch bowl full of steaming wine and glass cups with handles. Several plates were piled high with hot mince pies and other festive fare.
‘Thank you, Annie.’ Taking a long-handled ladle, Rafe filled the cups himself and handed them out, amidst much cheerful talk and laughter.
Rather than just stand there, Madeleine picked up a plate and began to hand round the food.
Catching her eye, Rafe smiled at her.
As she smiled back it crossed her mind that they could have been master and mistress of the hall, f
ollowing the traditions of the season while their children slept upstairs dreaming of sleigh bells and Santa Claus.
The thought made a lump come into her throat.
By the time everyone had eaten and drunk their fill it was almost a quarter to twelve.
‘Well, I’d best be getting back,’ one man said. ‘I’ve got to dress up and play Father Christmas for the youngsters.’
‘Why dress up?’ another asked. ‘Surely they’ll be fast asleep?’
‘Can’t take any chances,’ the first one replied. ‘Last year they spent most of the night wide awake.’
‘Well, I don’t have to worry. My twins are only eight months old, and both good sleepers.’
‘You just wait…’
On that note, with many thanks, and calls of, ‘A merry Christmas,’ they headed for the door and suddenly Rafe and Madeleine were alone.
‘Shall we go back to the living room?’ he asked.
Still trying to swallow past the lump in her throat, and tired, despite her earlier sleep, she shook her head. ‘It’s getting quite late; I think I’ll go to bed.’
He nodded in agreement. ‘I’ll see you up.’ They climbed the stairs in silence.
When they reached the door of her flat she paused, hoping he would take her in his arms, kiss her, ask to stay, do something…
‘Goodnight.’ He raised her hand to his lips, and turned away.
Flattened, she let him go and went inside to get ready for bed.
A glance at the clock showed it was already Christmas Day, but somehow she no longer felt tired, and even when she was tucked up warm and comfortable sleep evaded her.
All she could think was, had Rafe done as she’d hoped, they would be together now.
But, having apologised for the way he had treated her, he seemed determined to stand back and let her decide the next move.
She wanted to stay. She knew that now. Admitted it. Even though a happy ending was unlikely, she wanted to be with him for as long as possible.
But how could she stay knowing Rafe had loved her and she had killed that love? Her pride balked at staying with a man who merely wanted to use her.
So at the end of the holiday were she and her pride going to walk away hand in hand?
Didn’t she owe it to herself?
But it had been her stupidity that had caused them both so much pain and anguish.
Rafe had been blameless.
Didn’t she owe him something?
There was no way she could alter the past, and she might not be able to make up for everything, but she could make some reparation.
She got out of bed and, taking off her nightdress replaced it with a robe before going quietly out of the flat and along the dark passage to Rafe’s door.
Without knocking she slipped silently into his room, feeling first the smooth floorboards and then the soft brush of a rug beneath her bare feet.
In the snowy light that came through the open curtains she could make out the polished wood of the four-poster and his dark head on the pillow.
She unbelted her robe and let it drop at her feet, then, lifting the duvet, slid into bed beside him.
He slept naked. His breathing was soft and even, his eyes were closed and she could see the fan of dark lashes lying on his hard cheeks.
Supporting herself on one elbow, she leaned to kiss his lips and saw the gleam of his eyes a moment before his arms went round her.
His voice husky, he asked, ‘Do I take it this is my Christmas present?’
‘Are you happy with it?’
‘It has to be the best I ever had. I hope what I’m giving you comes up to it.’
‘What are you giving me?’
Reaching out a long arm, he switched on the bedside light and passed her a small gift-wrapped package. ‘Take a look.’ Inside was the bracelet she had admired in Marshall Brand, and with it a chased-gold wedding ring that matched the engagement ring he’d bought.
‘Marry me,’ he said simply.
‘B-but you said I was just an obsession…that you needed to get me out of your system…’
‘When I told Eve that I’d never stopped loving you and I wanted you back, she said she was sure you still loved me. It was only when I began to think she was mistaken that I panicked and did and said all kinds of stupid things. Do you still love me?’
‘Yes,’ she said. There would be plenty of time in the coming years to tell him just how much.
‘Then answer my question, woman.’
‘Well, I might need persuading…’
The words ended in a startled squeak as he rolled, pinning her beneath him. ‘How much persuading?’
‘Quite a lot,’ she said demurely. ‘So I hope you’re up to it.’
‘You can count on me. We’ll start with a kiss, shall we, and progress from there?’
‘A good start,’ she murmured, when he’d kissed her deeply.
‘What comes next?’
‘This.’ He proceeded to demonstrate.
Caught up in the magic he wove so well, she was soon wrapped in black velvet, yet full of heat and light. Glowing. Burning. Incandescent.
His lovemaking culminated in a fire-storm of sensation so intense that she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t see.
When the fierce sexual heat was replaced by the warmth of belonging and she lay quietly in his arms, he asked, ‘How was that?’
‘Wonderful,’ she murmured. ‘You’ve just upped your chances of a yes vote.’
‘I’m glad to be getting somewhere. Of course, to do a thorough job of persuading will take some considerable time, but no one can blame us if we spend Christmas Day in bed.’
‘No, indeed,’ she agreed happily.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-1670-9
LOVE WITHOUT LIES
Previously published in the U.K. as Kept by the Tycoon
First North American Publication 2011
Copyright © 2006 by Lee Wilkinson
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For questions and comments about the quality of this book please contact us at [email protected].
® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
Love Without Lies Page 17