by Lucy Ellis
She lowered her eyes. ‘You’re not the one who can’t breathe—who falls down and makes a fool of herself in public.’
‘Have you?’
She hesitated. ‘Once. When I was sixteen. At a concert.’
‘Never again?’
She shook her head. ‘But I could,’ she said.
‘And this has been going on all your life?’
‘No.’ This was the shameful bit. This was where everything led back to, and Lulu could feel herself closing up like a fist inside.
‘When I was little we used to live with my father. He used to shout all the time, and break things and hurt my mother.’
Alejandro had a peculiar quality of stillness about him. ‘Did he hurt you?’
‘Not physically, no,’ she said slowly. ‘My mother protected me and the boys from that, but it was like living on top of a volcano. His rages came out of nowhere.’
‘He beat your mother? You saw him beat your mother?’
‘Only once. That was when we left. That’s the thing about emotional abuse—it’s not like a bruise or a cut you can look at and say, “This is what is happening.” It’s so subtle it plays tricks with your mind. To this day Maman still struggles with blaming herself.’
‘Which is why she is so protective with you?’
‘She tried to protect all of us in a difficult situation. I know she did her best.’
‘But it wasn’t enough.’
It wasn’t a question. So she told him. She told him everything. About being reluctant to go home after school, always unsure of what she would find there. How ballet classes had been her refuge. How she would take her brothers out of their beds in the middle of the night when their father came home in a mood. How she’d learned where to hide, and how to keep it all a secret at school. After all, they were middle class…they’d lived in a nice neighbourhood, where nasty, brutish things didn’t happen.
‘Then we were just poor,’ she said, ‘which was better. Because then I could tell people my parents didn’t live together and my mother had to work. It felt something like normal. But I got busier with the boys, because Maman was gone all hours. I learned how to do things around the house because Félicienne couldn’t.’
‘I suspect you’re a useful woman to have around in a crisis, Lulu Lachaille.’
She felt a little better then.
‘When did the fairytale kick in?’ he asked, unable not to stroke the curls out of her eyes.
She looked up. ‘You noticed that?’
‘Your mother is married to one of France’s leading foreign policy advisors—a constitutional lawyer,’ Alejandro responded dryly. ‘It’s a little hard to miss, Lulu.’
She laughed a little then, and for the first time all night Alejandro relaxed a little. It was good to hear. He threaded the fingers of one of his hands with hers, careful not to press against her cuts.
‘Jean-Luc is so sweet. They met at work, you know. Maman got a law degree after she left my father, and she was working nights as a clerk in Jean-Luc’s department when she spotted something about a caveat in a contract everyone else had missed. He came down to thank her personally—’
‘And tripped over his feet and could hardly get the words out?’
Lulu’s mouth rounded. ‘How did you know?’
‘I’ve seen your mother—she’s breathtakingly beautiful. The two of you are mirror images, twenty years apart.’
‘Well, yes,’ said Lulu, clearly flustered, ‘if you think so. Anyway, he started giving her lifts home from work, and then we got to meet him and he was so kind. I was a little afraid of grown men until he came into our lives. All I’d seen was the havoc they caused. He’s been a great role model for my brothers, and he looks after Maman so beautifully.’
But no mention of her. Alejandro stroked her curls again. ‘He must have had a seismic impact on your life?’
She nodded vigorously, as if the telling was shifting a great weight off her shoulders. She had such slender shoulders, thought Alejandro, hit by a tenderness he hadn’t expected, and from what she was telling him it was a considerable weight.
‘Suddenly, at fourteen, I got my own room—fit for a princess. I was sent to a good school… I could invite other girls home for the holidays. Only I didn’t.’ She licked her lips. ‘That’s when the panic attacks started.’
‘Sí, it would have been a miracle if they hadn’t.’
Her head came back and she looked at him in astonishment.
‘I have good friends on active duty in the armed forces. You’re describing PTSD, Lulu—it’s a natural reaction to trauma.’
‘That’s what I’ve been told,’ she said slowly, jolted by the realisation that he understood. It encouraged her to reveal more. ‘Routine helps me. When I know what to expect I’m better able to handle things. It’s why being in the chorus works for me—being part of that team, being surrounded by the other girls, doing the same thing night after night.’
‘How do you get up on stage?’
‘Ballet was always my refuge, but I grew too tall. My dance teacher suggested I try out as a showgirl. I wouldn’t have lasted beyond the audition stage if it hadn’t been for Gigi. She was trying out too and we sort of fell in together and I just stuck to her like glue. She got me through, and once it had become my routine I discovered all sorts of ways to make it work for me. I don’t feel like myself when I’m on stage.’ She eyed him covertly. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I pretend to be Rita Hayworth or Miriam Hopkins and it helps.’
Alejandro had no idea who Miriam Hopkins was, but Lulu’s confession had destroyed any last remnants of his pretending he wasn’t involved.
‘I am making progress,’ she went on in stalwart fashion. ‘I have a therapist, and we’re trialling desensitisation therapy. The fact I’m even here is huge for me. When Gigi announced she was having her wedding in Scotland I saw it as my chance to make the break. I wanted to make big changes and I was willing to take risks to push my life in a different direction. That’s where you came in. At the airport.’
Alejandro was suddenly seeing that entire episode from a different angle, and his own behaviour struck at him hard. ‘How did you make that flight?’
‘With great organisation,’ she said seriously. ‘I threw up twice.’
Alejandro cursed himself under his breath.
‘That was why you wouldn’t move seats. You couldn’t.’
‘I was so embarrassed.’
‘And I was a Class A bastard to you on that trip.’
‘No,’ she said forcefully, sitting back. ‘Don’t you dare apologise. You treated me like a real person, Alejandro. Like a grown woman responsible for her own actions.’
‘You are without doubt a grown woman, Lulu.’ He plucked a piece of straw from her hair and used it as an excuse to stroke the curls out of her eyes. ‘Only a grown woman could drive me as crazy as you’ve been doing since you stumbled into my life.’
He was looking at her as if she was amazing. As if she was something special for all the right reasons.
Lulu couldn’t believe it. She wanted to cry, but then she thought of something better.
‘Maybe you could treat me like a grown woman again?’
She felt confident saying it. She liked making the first move—she’d learned that the night they’d spent together in the Scottish Highlands. It gave her a feeling of womanly power as she rose up onto her knees, watching his expression as she began unbuttoning her blouse.
He could have reminded her she’d just had a panic attack.
Told her she really should be resting.
It was what her mother would have said. Even Gigi. Treating her like the invalid she wasn’t.
But Alejandro didn’t do any of those things.
He carefully lifted her astride him, reached around to undo her lacy white bra and gave her full tender dominion over him.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ALEJANDRO PUT HER on a horse the next day.
He had
a small mare saddled and brought out into the home paddock, where he patiently spent time explaining what was going on in the animal’s head.
‘She’s used to being ridden, and she likes women. I think the two of you will get on.’
Lulu stroked her neck, and when the mare swung her head around and Lulu jumped Alejandro merely tugged on the mare’s mane to show her who was boss.
‘She likes you.’ He grinned.
Lulu stepped a little closer and tried again, rubbing her hand over the horse’s flank.
‘She’s so beautiful.’
‘Do you think you could sit on her?’
‘I’ll try, but I want you to take a picture with your phone—because it might be the one and only time I’m ever on a horse.’
She was nervous, but she let Alejandro give her a leg up and found herself gripping the pommel as he fitted her feet into the stirrups.
Her heart was pounding, and she’d broken into a sweat, but Alejandro stroked her thigh reassuringly.
‘It’s all right, girl, she won’t do anything you don’t like.’
‘Do you mean me or the horse?’
Alejandro grinned again and gave her the reins. He took hold of the lead rope.
His eyes were serious, though, as he looked up at her. ‘I won’t let go, amorcito. I promise.’
It was a bit like standing on the deck of a boat, but Lulu found herself falling into the rhythm of the horse’s gentle stroll.
‘You’re a natural,’ Alejandro told her.
‘I don’t know about that. My body understands what it needs to do—it’s my mind where the battle is.’
‘Then we’ll do this every day until your mind comes to accept it.’
‘But don’t you have better things to do?’
‘You need routine, Lulu,’ he said calmly, as if it made sense, ‘so we’ll make a routine for you.’
She felt a lump rise into her throat but she didn’t cry.
It took several days before she was happy enough for Alejandro to let go of the leading rope. She got the mare up to a canter—and inevitably took her first spill. She was on her feet before he reached her, straightening her helmet, laughing and groaning.
The mare nudged her and Lulu stroked her neck. ‘It’s not your fault, girl, I got too ambitious.’
‘Nothing broken?’
Alejandro had his hands all over her, checking for damage, and Lulu rather enjoyed it and put her arms around his neck.
‘Nothing a bath won’t fix.’
He seemed relieved she was unhurt, and slid his hands over her bottom encased in jodhpurs. ‘I should probably supervise this bath…you might drown.’
‘I am a notoriously bad swimmer.’ She kissed him, her arms tight around his neck.
A few mornings and several falls and bruises later, in her quest to ride at least competently, Lulu awoke to hear Alejandro moving about.
She lifted her head off the pillow. It was still dark.
‘Where are you going? What’s happening?’
He came over to the bed and the mattress gave beside her as he sat down and bent to stroke her hair.
‘It’s a working day. Go back to sleep. I’ll see you after breakfast.’
Lulu peered at the time glowing from the digital clock. It was half past four. She struggled to sit up, switching on the lamp so that she could see his face.
He was fully dressed, and so beautiful her heart contracted. ‘Take me with you, if I won’t be in the way. I would like to see how the estate works and what you do all day.’
He stroked her bare shoulder, looked curiously into her half-asleep eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
Which meant, could she cope?
Lulu sat herself up properly. ‘I won’t know if I don’t try.’ Her expression drooped. ‘But I don’t want to get in the way.’
A smile broke across his face. He scooped her up, bedclothes and all.
‘What are you doing?’ She laughed, fighting a yawn at the same time.
‘Putting you in a shower, amorcito. Then we’re going to dress you like a gaucho.’
A very pretty gaucho, in a cotton shirt and trousers that tucked into long leather boots.
It was a long day, but then they all were—working with the horses, driving out to a horse auction some kilometres away, checking fences. Lulu remained at his side. Sometimes she stayed in the car for a while, and he didn’t question her reason, but she would eventually emerge and ask questions about what he was doing.
Everywhere they went she drew stares—because he’d never brought a woman to the estancia after his brief early marriage, and Valentina certainly hadn’t been a presence in his working life.
At the auction he stood with her on the rails, his arms either side of her.
He couldn’t blame the other men for looking. Even amidst the glamorous crowd at the wedding Lulu had stood out. Her lithe height and her embracing of a timeless femininity in everything she did had made the castle a perfect setting for a girl who seemed to have one foot in the past. At a busy horse auction, amidst the dust and the gauchos, she was glorious in a stylish vintage jacket and the thirties-style cutaway pants she seemed to prefer to wear—a magical creature come among them, eyes shining, smiling radiantly and asking questions.
No one looking on would be able to tell how nervous she was.
Dios, how hadn’t he noticed that about her until now? Plainly because she’d hidden it like a pro.
But she trusted him enough now to tell him her secret, and that knowledge had ramped up his possessiveness tenfold.
When she looked up at him and smiled he found he couldn’t concentrate on what was going on around them. Her kiss was a sigh just below his ear, where he discovered he was ticklish, and then her head was resting against his shoulder in an attitude of trust that had another emotion thundering through him.
His arm tightened around her. Alejandro knew then that if anyone ever tried to harm her he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions.
He also knew there were probably some paparazzi in this crowd. Argentina celebrated its sporting heroes. He was rarely seen with women, so he knew that if there were, his turning up at an auction with Lulu under his arm was going to cause a bit of a feeding frenzy.
It didn’t matter. He’d already made his decision.
‘I have to be in the States at the end of next week,’ he told Lulu when she asked if his days were always this packed.
They were driving back to Luna Plateada, with the late-afternoon sun glaring off the windscreen.
‘It means time away from the estancia, which requires me to do all I can now.’
The end of next week. They should know about her condition then. It brought Lulu up cold. She wondered if she should worry that they never talked about it. Was Alejandro avoiding the topic because he was so set against it? She wasn’t exactly over the moon about the prospect of unwed motherhood at twenty-three either! Surely they should be talking about it…
‘What if I’m pregnant?’ she blurted out.
Alejandro lost speed.
Oui, Lulu, start this conversation when he’s driving a high-powered four-wheel drive. You’ll both be killed and the problem will be most horribly solved.
And that was when her hand slipped protectively to her belly and she realised she wasn’t exactly feeling like a woman who wouldn’t be going through with an unplanned pregnancy.
Alejandro changed gear, looked over at her and said calmly, ‘I’ll marry you.’
*
‘You can’t just say you’ll marry me and leave it at that.’
Alejandro turned the steaks over, telling himself it was just a conversation.
Although he could imagine the look on the faces of quite a few of his past girlfriends on hearing this. Sheer disbelief for one thing.
‘I don’t want a shotgun marriage,’ she said firmly.
‘No one is pointing a gun at me, querida.’
Lulu worried at her bottom lip and said, ‘Actually—’<
br />
He looked up. She was curled on one of the outdoor sofas with a lemonade, and she wore a little frown.
She was wearing some sort of print dress with a white collar that made her look as if she’d stepped out of a nineteen-thirties film. She’d tied her curls back in bunches, which was so adorable he couldn’t stop looking at her.
He was yet to see her in a pair of jeans, or in anything you could call casual or unisex.
‘Should I expect one of your brothers to come bursting through the door?’
‘Georg and Max? No, they wouldn’t care,’ she said, sounding affectionate. ‘They’re busy with their own lives.’
Alejandro frowned. ‘They should care. You’re their sister. You’re their responsibility.’
Lulu wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about the term ‘responsibility’, but she liked it that he cared. ‘Is that how you are with your sisters?’
He made a grunting sound and Lulu climbed to her feet and went over to him, because this was a side of him she hadn’t seen before. The growly big brother.
‘I don’t want any kid of mine growing up where I can’t see him or her every day. Children need two parents.’
She couldn’t argue with him. ‘What were yours like?’
‘Not great. My father was a gambler—and not a clever one. He spent most of his inheritance on the gaming tables, or on women who weren’t my mother.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Lulu. ‘That can’t have been fun for you or your sisters.’
He leaned back, folding his arms, a bottle of beer in one hand. ‘I always said I’d do better by my own kids.’
‘What about your maman?’
‘She was no better. She’d arrive here with us kids and lock herself in her rooms. She was always sick unless she had a party of friends with her. We hardly ever saw her.’
‘That’s why you’re so protective of your sisters.’
Alejandro looked uncomfortable. ‘My grandfather drummed it into me—Look after the girls…see to their interests. And I have. But that’s it. I don’t interfere in their lives.’
Lulu wondered at that and drew a little closer. ‘What do you mean?’
‘They have their lives and I have mine. We don’t live in each other’s pockets.’