Pride After Her Fall

by Lucy Ellis

  Nash was silent. He was examining her face as if translating Sanskrit.

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Non. I didn’t in a million years imagine when I went to your apartment last night I’d be ending the next day with you in Mauritius.’

  ‘As I hadn’t told you I was flying out to Mauritius, I’m sure you didn’t,’ he observed dryly.

  He was being deliberately obtuse.

  ‘I’m not that sort of person.’

  ‘What sort of person, dare I ask?’

  ‘One who freeloads.’

  Nash threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich and warm.

  ‘I’m glad you find it so funny,’ she said stiffly. ‘I can assure you nothing about this situation amuses me.’

  Fed up, Lorelei folded her arms and averted her face. Still in yesterday’s clothes, she felt creased and wilted and distinctly at a disadvantage. Whilst he found it funny and had it all under control.

  ‘Lorelei.’ He spoke patiently, the amusement still in his voice. ‘I apologise for not telling you last night I was going away.’

  She hated this—him being the cool, calm male and her being the hot, hysterical female. She’d been a witness to this scenario before and vowed she’d never play this role.

  But who was forcing her into the role? Didn’t she have a choice here? She was letting the inequalities of the situation play with her deepest insecurities and it wasn’t serving her. The fact she was in this seaplane with him, coasting towards the runway, was proof enough that last night hadn’t been all on her side.

  ‘Apology accepted,’ she said stiffly, wondering if they could start this all over again, with her being sexy and playing hard to get, instead of frustrated and sulky because she was in yesterday’s clothes and he hadn’t kissed her once since she’d slipped from his bed this morning.

  ‘And I do not consider you a freeloader.’

  She made a dismissive gesture with one hand, keeping her eyes averted.

  ‘Is this about your father?’ he said, cutting right through to the heart of the matter.

  She raised her eyes to his. Grim.

  ‘I don’t talk about my father. Ever.’

  He looked at her for a moment and then inclined his head. ‘If that’s what you wish.’

  No, it wasn’t. She wanted to wail and thump with her fists and bemoan Raymond and the fix he’d left her in, but none of that was Nash’s concern and she wasn’t laying more of her troubles at his feet. She’d dealt with this on her own thus far. She would continue to do so.

  ‘Except you’re not dealing with it, are you, Lorelei?’ whispered a niggly little voice. ‘You’re winging over the coast of Africa with a man who delights and terrifies you in equal measure because he’s seen what a mess you’ve got yourself into and he’s trying to help.’

  All of a sudden she was beginning to feel ungrateful and childish.

  She suspected a big part of her was trying to find something to take her attention off what she was trying resolutely not to think about—the mess she’d left behind her at home.

  A mess that wasn’t hers to begin with.

  Those defence measures against the impossible weight of debt and the expectations she had laid upon herself to keep her family legacy intact were barely holding up any more and so she was lashing out. She also knew one of the reasons those defence mechanisms were no longer working had something to do with the man sitting beside her. He’d opened up vulnerabilities in her she was having trouble overcoming. Hence last night’s tears.

  She’d seen puzzlement and frustration in him several times as he’d come face-to-face with her issues back in the Principality, and it was getting harder to hide them from him.

  She suspected it was one of the big reasons she hadn’t had a relationship since Raymond’s arrest. Why she had put distance between herself and her friends.

  She should be putting distance between herself and Nash—especially when he was being so mysterious about exactly what they were doing here. The problem was, she couldn’t separate mind and body. Her emotions were involved, as last night attested. If she slept with him again she was going to open more of herself up and there would be consequences.

  ‘So these mysterious meetings—are they going to take up all of your time?’ She tried to change the subject.

  ‘Not entirely.’ He smiled at her, as if he understood she was finding this difficult. ‘I can, however, assure you you won’t be bored, Lorelei.’

  ‘Non?’ she said snippily, knowing exactly what he was implying. ‘I’m sure the island offers many attractions for tourists.’

  Unexpectedly he tugged gently at the rogue curl she could never keep out of her eye, sliding it carefully behind her ear.

  ‘Still fighting me, Lorelei?’

  She looked away, out of the window at the land coming ever closer, and thought, no, she wasn’t fighting him—and that was the problem.

  *

  ‘I can’t get over how gorgeous it all is,’ Lorelei confided as they drove the beachfront road in a Jeep. She’d teased him when he’d dumped their driver on the tarmac, telling him Freud had a few theories about his need to call the shots.

  ‘Yeah, and I’ve got a few theories about Freud,’ he’d responded, lifting her into the Jeep, enjoying her shriek and subsequent laughter. It was as if she’d decided all on her own to stop fighting him. It was impossible not to take in the scenery through her eyes as she chattered and pointed out landmarks that in the past he’d taken for granted.

  Tall latania palms swayed along the roadside, and tropical flowers flashed out of the undergrowth as they sped past.

  ‘You’ve brought me to paradise.’

  Nash smiled to himself, finally comfortable with where this was going.

  Lorelei had shied a little on the seaplane, and put on a bit of a performance, but he wouldn’t have expected any less from the show pony she most definitely was. He realised he enjoyed that about her—the unpredictability. His life was usually so ordered. He didn’t mind accommodating Lorelei’s eccentricities. Outside in the late-day sunshine, with the fresh air whipping her curls into a frenzy, she seemed to have shrugged off her insecurities and was now embracing what he had to offer.

  ‘Consider it part of the service,’ he responded easily.

  She flashed a smile at him and he was surprised at how good it made him feel.

  He wanted her to be happy, he realised. He didn’t like seeing that weight in her eyes as if the load she was carrying had been with her for too long. He suspected it was to do with that gaol bird father of hers. He could suggest to her cutting the cords that bind, as he’d done years ago with his own, but he doubted Lorelei would thank him for it.

  He’d known since last night that she wasn’t quite the hard-headed little mover and shaker those reports he’d initially paid attention to had painted her to be.

  As they drove the leafy road circling the resort Nash watched some of the animation leave her. It wasn’t his favourite place. A world-famous destination, sure enough, but they might as well not have left Monaco. The place dripped glamour and elitism, with groups of women in couture beachwear and jewellery, and men driving low-slung ego-extension cars.

  ‘If you’d prefer we can stay here,’ he commented as they cruised past the ostentatious entrance, ‘but I’ve got a place on the beach. It’s a lot more private.’

  ‘Naturellement.’ She gave him a small smile. ‘I would much prefer that.’

  Unable to credit how good he felt, Nash increased speed and they shot down the beach road, heading up and over a rise. He heard Lorelei catch her breath as they plunged into tropical rainforest.

  ‘Oh, this is beautiful,’ she gasped, and as if to verify her words a brightly plumed bird swooped through the canopy of tree branches above them.

  His bungalow was down on the shore—one of several private homes along this exclusive stretch of east coast beachfront. He had designed it himself with a local architect, the focus being on bri
nging the tropical forest right up to the doorstep and the ocean into the west-facing rooms.

  Lorelei was quiet as she looked around, before turning to him and saying, ‘This is most lovely, Nash. You’re very lucky to have something so fine.’

  ‘Not too modern for you, Lorelei?’

  ‘Let me tell you I would kill to live in something so cutting-edge.’

  ‘Then why the Spanish villa?’

  Some of the animation slid away from her face. ‘My grandmaman wanted me to have it.’

  ‘You could always sell it.’

  Lorelei turned away. He followed her through the dining area and out to the rear of the house, where windows gave way to the ocean, telling himself he didn’t want to look any closer, dig any deeper.

  He closed a hand around her lithe waist and she started, as if she’d already become unused to his touch. It made him more possessive. He found himself surrounding her, wanting to put himself front and centre in her life. He put it down to never accepting second place.

  She removed his hands, walked away.

  ‘Why don’t you sell it?’ he asked abruptly.

  Lorelei shrugged her delicate shoulders.

  Frustration rippled through him.

  He thought about the fact that in a couple of hours he’d be sitting down to dinner with the Eagle reps, who also happened to be long-time mates.

  His rather brutal earlier thoughts on the subject had been that she could entertain herself, and he’d get away as soon as he could.

  But the guys would be bringing their wives. Her remark—I’m not a toy for you to play with—nudged him.

  The problem was if he took Lorelei she’d be privy to his story before it broke in the press. He tried to picture her as a media leak but all he could see were her sleepy, sexy eyes when she’d climbed on top of him in the early hours of this morning and taken him almost shyly into her slippery hot body. Those little cries of completion as she’d reached her peak had made him feel like a god, and how sweetly she’d curled in his arms afterwards and fallen asleep, still holding on to him.

  He groaned in frustration and ran a hand through his thick hair.

  ‘We’re meeting some friends of mine for dinner at eight,’ he said gruffly. ‘I had some clothes sent up for you. I guess you’ll find them in the wardrobe.’

  She turned and smiled at him. ‘Merci beaucoup, that’s very good of you.’

  He almost laughed. This she didn’t fight him on.

  Except she’d been fighting him ever since she’d climbed out of his bed.

  He didn’t understand her.

  He didn’t understand himself when he was around her. When he’d put her in Blue 16 on the track he’d only been thinking about a night, but this morning all he’d been thinking about was how soon they could be together again. He came up behind her at the glass doors leading onto the deck.

  Today had been a long one for her. Even now he could see the faint mauve shadows under her eyes, a certainty fragility hovering over her. It was possibly the wisest course to leave her here. To go to dinner with the Eagle reps and give Lorelei some space. But it wasn’t just about giving her space, he acknowledged. He cared about her feelings.

  Frankly, he didn’t want to make things any harder for her.

  ‘Nash, the ocean is right on the doorstep!’

  ‘It’s a matter of perspective. There’s a good twenty feet between the foundations and the surf, and this stretch of water is effectively a lagoon. It won’t rise.’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said, looking up at him with an open face, and he smiled a little because she clearly cared nothing for the logistics and everything for the magic.

  And wasn’t that how she seemed to live her life?

  He couldn’t resist stroking her silken hair. Everything about her was touchable and soft and…yeah, he wanted to know her better.

  But she wasn’t an ingénue, and he wasn’t a man looking for dependants. This was about her being a reward before he hit lockdown for training and him being her man of the moment. If he kept it that way this should work out for both of them.

  If there was something beguiling about Lorelei’s smile as she looked up at him it was to do with the tropical light and the promise of the night ahead. So he decided to follow her lead for once and just accept the magic.

  ‘Yeah, it is beautiful,’ he responded a little huskily, and framed her face with one hand. At last she opened up enough to let him kiss her. ‘Second only to you.’

  He tasted her—the softness of her lips, the sweetness of her breath—and the magic happened all over again. He knew he’d be taking her to dinner.

  *

  ‘So I’m to be your sex doll?’

  Nash schooled his expression into something neutral as Lorelei emerged from the master bedroom, a tiny scrap of lace nothing dangling from her little finger.

  He’d rung his housekeeper here at the bungalow and told her to organise some clothes through several boutiques at the resort, giving a vague approximation of size and stressing sexy. The helpful women at the boutiques had clearly interpreted this as less being more. He wasn’t complaining.

  Lorelei stood in the doorway looking unimpressed, although he did detect a tiny quiver about her mouth that told him she was trying not to laugh.

  She looked sensational in an ankle-length orange pleated silk chiffon dress, embroidered with tiny crystals at its plunging neckline. It was the neckline that had his attention. His mouth was suddenly dry.

  Belatedly he noticed she had swept her hair up into one of those sophisticated knots that took lesser women hours, and wore delicate crystal earrings. The juxtaposition between the ice goddess standing before him, her short sharp nose in the air and the little bit of erotica hooked over her finger finally dragged his eyes away from her braless breasts.

  ‘You can be whatever you want to be,’ he corrected, coming towards her. ‘You could try being yourself.’

  Lorelei’s lips parted slightly.

  ‘I am being myself.’

  He plucked the bit of lace from her hand. ‘Then there’s no problem. I’ve seen your lingerie, Lorelei. You wear a great deal less than this.’

  ‘Currently I’m not wearing any, but I would have preferred the choice.’

  Nash’s mind went blank.

  ‘You look very smart,’ she said with an arch lift of her brows.

  Endeavouring to get himself under control, he rasped, ‘It’s the tailoring.’

  A little smile sat at the corner of her mouth, as if she was very well aware of something else. ‘Shall we go?’

  *

  The restaurant was open-air, on the beach, and the rhythm of local Sega music thrummed as a backdrop. Lorelei sipped her iced water, too nervous to risk a glass of champagne.

  On the charity circuit she was always working to get people to like her, to respond to her, to open their chequebooks. Tonight she wasn’t sure of the rules.

  The large table was peopled with several couples: various identities from the motor-racing world, and one retired driver, Marco Delarosa, so famous even Lorelei recognised his face instantly.

  This was Nash’s world, both corporate and competitive, with the glamorous edge provided by sport. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on, but amidst the thumping testosterone-fuelled talk about commercial deals and television rights she became conscious that Nash was talking about racing again.

  This was confirmed when Nicolette Delarosa leaned over and murmured, girl to girl, ‘We need to form our own team—at least then we might be a viable part of this conversation.’

  A team.

  One by one the pieces fell into place.

  He was staging a comeback.

  With Eagle.

  This was why he was so media-shy. This was why he’d cancelled their date. Yet here she was, at this table, privy to the big secret.

  She couldn’t understand why, but Lorelei felt a frisson of unease.

  Seeking reassurance, she flashed her gaze up
to Nash beside her. His body language was relaxed—shoulders loose, open. He was fully himself because he was among friends. This was nothing like what she had built up in her mind. He wasn’t treating her like a rich man’s arm candy, as she had feared, those were her own insecurities.

  It was clear in this company that when Nash was private it was because he needed to be—monosyllabic, as Simone called it, because everything he said publicly was weighed and measured. With his friends he was this relaxed and good-humoured man.

  His thick black lashes were screening the full impact of his eyes, but although he was listening to Delarosa she knew his attention was on her. Had been on her all evening.

  As if sensing the shift in her thoughts he lifted his lashes and there were his intense blue eyes. Lorelei found her pulse was fluttering wildly out of control. He was looking at her as if she was naked under him in bed.

  Mon Dieu, other people would see…they would know…

  The hum of conversation died away and there was only an incredible stillness. It seemed to happen between them again and again—his eyes and her heartbeat and that elemental force that shook her when she was in his arms. Only his arms. Only him.

  What was going on? She couldn’t fall so far and so fast for this man.

  Almost to rip herself free from the spell he’d cast, she reminded herself that Nash was a public figure because of his sport, and he was about to enter that arena again. Did she really want to be the woman on his arm? To face that sort of intrusion into her personal life?

  ‘Lorelei St James,’ said one of the women, her voice a little too loud. ‘I knew that name was familiar.’

  All of a sudden her musings ground to a halt. In that instant she felt Nash’s hand close over hers under the table.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘It has to be over a decade ago now, but I remember seeing you at the World Equestrian Games.’

  Lorelei released a hurried breath. ‘Ah, oui—many years ago.’

  ‘I jump myself. My family breed Arabians.’

  She felt Nash’s hand turning hers over, his fingers finding those calluses on her palm. All of a sudden she felt horribly exposed, and she didn’t quite know why, but to pull her hand away would be the first step to getting up and walking out, and she was done with that sort of reactive behaviour. It didn’t serve her. So she mastered her nerves and continued to smile at the woman. To answer questions. To discuss the relative merits of each breed.