Did she even have the right to ask him to?
* * *
Her first month caring for Ruby had passed in a blur of time, Alexis realized as she watched a fun educational DVD with Ruby, clapping hands with her and jiggling along with the music. She’d lifted Ruby to her feet and was holding her hands as the baby pumped her thighs in time to the beat. She couldn’t help laughing at the happy energy the little girl exuded as she squealed and danced.
“Someone sounds happy. She’s got her mother’s sense of rhythm, I see.”
Alexis turned to see Raoul standing in the doorway, a look on his face that was half quizzical and half humorous.
“Dad-dad-dad-dad!” Ruby shrieked as she saw her father.
Alexis bit her lip. Over the past few days the baby had gone from curiosity about Raoul, to grim determination to make him acknowledge her. Ruby plopped down onto her padded bottom and Alexis let her hands go, only to see the child pull herself up using the coffee table beside them and take at first one, then two, then more tentative steps toward her father.
“Oh, my God, she’s walking. She’s actually walking!” Alexis cried.
“Should she be doing that already?” Raoul said, his eyes fixed on his daughter’s tiny form as it teetered toward him on the carpeted floor.
“Well, she’s a little early at ten months, but she’s been showing signs of wanting to get onto her feet properly for a couple of weeks now. Oops, there she goes.”
Ruby lost her balance but before she could hit the carpet, Raoul was right there. His large hands hooked under her tiny armpits and swung her up into an arc that made her release a gurgling laugh of sheer joy.
Alexis felt a pang in her chest at the sight. This was how it should have been all along. Father and daughter sharing special moments like this one.
“Dad-dad,” Ruby said again, her little hand patting Raoul on the face.
“That’s right, Ruby,” Alexis said from her position on the floor. “That’s your daddy. Good girl.”
“She can’t really understand I’m her father,” Raoul said, putting Ruby back down on the floor.
He was forced to reluctantly hold her hands as she tugged herself up onto her feet again and continued to want to walk, this time with him bent over, holding her hands as she tottled toward Alexis.
“Why not?” Alexis asked, feeling her joy at seeing them together dim a little at his lack of pleasure in Ruby’s behavior. “You are her father and she ought to know that, don’t you think?”
“It would be no different if she called me Raoul. She only mimics what she hears you say,” he said repressively.
Provoked, Alexis returned with, “I prefer to think she knows you are her dad. I think she deserves that, don’t you? Or would you rather she grow up calling you Raoul? As if you were some stranger who just happened to live alongside her?”
He waited until Ruby was closer to Alexis before extricating his fingers from the baby’s clutches. Beaming a toothy smile, Ruby continued to take steps unaided. Alexis opened her arms and Ruby walked straight into them.
“Look at you, you clever girl!” she laughed as she hugged the child and smothered her neck with kisses, eliciting yet more baby giggles. “I’m seriously going to have to keep my eye on you now, aren’t I?”
She looked up and caught the expression in Raoul’s eye. Was that longing she saw there? Did he wish he could express the same spontaneous love for his daughter that she did? Alexis gave Ruby another cuddle before setting her loose. Bit by bit she felt as if she was beginning to break through the shell he’d built around himself when it came to Ruby. The thought brought her to an idea that she wanted to suggest to Raoul.
Drawing on a liberal dose of courage, and buoyed by the fact that he’d stayed in the room rather than withdrawing again quickly as he was in the habit of doing, she launched into speech.
“Raoul, I’ve been thinking. Catherine is due home this weekend and I thought since it also ties in with Bree’s birthday, the first time dealing with that date for both of you since she’s gone, that it might be nice to have a bit of a get-together here—you know, invite a few of your friends, make it a potluck dinner kind of thing. I think it would be nice—partly to celebrate Catherine’s recovery to date and partly to remember Bree.”
“I don’t need a gathering to remember her. It’s not a good idea.”
“I was afraid you’d say that,” she said, dragging in another deep breath and refusing to be cowed by his rejection, “which is why I kind of went ahead and organized it anyway. Catherine was really eager to participate and she’s just aching to see Ruby again, and Laura and Matt and the others were equally keen.”
“You had no right to do that,” Raoul said, a sharp edge to his voice that all but sliced through the air between them.
“Look, I know you’re still struggling to get back to normal—”
“Normal? Normal died along with Bree. I don’t think you quite understand just what that has meant to me.”
His voice was quiet, yet filled with emotion and anger. Sensing the change in mood in the room, Ruby crawled onto Alexis’s lap, turned her face into her chest and uttered a whine of protest.
“Which is exactly why we should honor her memory and have a get-together in remembrance of her. Catherine needs it, your friends need it. I truly believe you need it, too, and you’d agree with me if you could just let yourself believe that you don’t have to face all your grief alone.”
His hazel eyes narrowed as he stared down at her. The air between them thickened, filled with his unspoken words and met by her equally silent but no less adamant challenge.
“Fine,” he uttered through clenched teeth. “But don’t expect me to be involved.”
“Just be there, it’s all I ask.”
“Sometimes, Alexis Fabrini, you ask too damn much.”
He left the room, taking her heart with him. It was hard to feel a sense of victory when she knew how much this was hurting him.
“Dad-dad?” Ruby said, lifting her face away from Alexis and looking around the room.
“He’s gone off again, poppet. But he’ll be back. Bit by bit, he’ll be back.”
At least she sure hoped so.
* * *
Raoul looked around the gathering in his house. This was exactly the kind of thing Bree would have loved to have organized for her birthday. All their closest friends, her mother, some of his cousins who lived locally, Alexis...people he knew and should feel comfortable with. And yet, he felt like an outsider. A stranger in his own house. Sure, he went through the motions—made sure everyone had a drink, asked some opinions on his latest blend—but he felt as if he didn’t belong. As if he was a mere onlooker, not a participant.
Conversations swirled around him, things he would normally have been a part of but as he overheard snippets from here and there he became increasingly aware of how life had continued for all of them. It seemed wrong to resent them for it, but he did—fiercely. The uninterrupted way their lives had moved on after Bree only made his empty world so much more hollow—the void in his heart echo that much more.
He looked to Catherine to see how she was coping. This had to be hard for her, too, but she appeared to be taking it all in her stride—not afraid to shed a tear or two over a shared memory or a hearty laugh at some reminiscence, and eager to hear everyone’s news after her monthlong absence from the playgroup. She looked up and caught his gaze and he could see the concern reflected in her eyes—eyes that were very like Ruby’s and reminded him so much of Bree.
And there it was again—the pain, the loss, the anger at having all that perfection torn away from him. Having choice removed from his hands. Losing Bree from his life, forever. Catherine pushed herself to her feet and, adeptly using one crutch, crossed the short distance between them. She laid one hand on his shoulder.
“She’d have loved this, wouldn’t she? Alexis has done a great job.”
“Everyone contributed,” he said abruptly.
> “But Alexis brought us all together. We needed that. It’s been long overdue. I know I’m always going to miss her, it would be impossible not to, but I feel better today, y’know?”
He nodded because it seemed to be the response she expected, but inside he was screaming. No, he didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. This was all too hard. He couldn’t find it in him to allow himself to enjoy the company of everyone here today. He needed space, silence, solitude. The moment Catherine’s attention was taken by one of the guests he slipped out the room and toward the front door. Once he had it open he walked through the entrance and kept going into the night—down the unsealed lane that led to the winery, past the winery and on down the hill until he could go no farther unless he wanted to swim the inky dark waters of the harbor.
He waited until the moon was high in the sky before he clambered back up the hill. The cold air had filtered through his clothing, his long-sleeved cotton shirt—fine in the centrally heated interior of the house—was totally unsuited to the outdoors. Initially he’d barely noticed it. Now, however, he was frozen through and through.
The outside lights were still on at the house when he got back but, he noted with relief, the large parking bay outside was devoid of cars. He slipped back inside and decided to go directly to his room. He had no wish to see Alexis and face her silent or, more likely, not-so-silent recriminations for ditching the party this evening. He just wanted to be alone. Couldn’t anyone understand that?
“Raoul? Is that you?”
Alexis, dish towel still in hand, stepped out of the kitchen and into the hallway. He halted in his tracks—frozen like a possum in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. She was the last person he wanted to face right now.
“Are you okay?”
He gave a bitter laugh. “Okay? No, Alexis, I’m not okay.”
He turned to head to his room but heard her rapid footfall on the carpeted floor behind him. She put out a hand to arrest his progress.
“I’m sorry, Raoul. Maybe organizing today wasn’t such a good idea,” she said as she drew nearer.
He wheeled around. “You think?”
He could see his response stung her but he wasn’t into mouthing platitudes so others could just blithely go on doing what they did without consideration for how it made anyone else feel.
“I told you that you asked too much,” he growled.
“I know—now, at least. And I am sorry, Raoul. Everyone understood, though, especially today with it being Bree’s birthday. It was bound to be hard. Even for me. Look, I know how you feel—”
“Do you?” he said incredulously. “Do you really? I don’t think so. I don’t think that for a minute you could ever understand how I feel so don’t presume to try.”
“You weren’t the only one who lost her,” she said, her voice small.
“She was my wife!” His voice shook, with fury and with something more that rolled and swirled inside him—filling his mind with a black emptiness that threatened to consume him. “She was my world,” he whispered fiercely before striding the short distance to his room where he slammed the door solidly behind him, uncaring as to whether or not he disturbed Ruby.
He stood in the darkened room, hardly daring to breathe or move in case the angry monster that he could feel growing stronger inside him broke free. The monster that wanted to rail at the world for the unfairness that took Bree from him. The monster that was full of anger toward Bree herself, even though he could never openly express it, because she’d taken the choice of family or her away from him.
The monster that held the untold disgust he had with himself because, despite everything—the love he’d borne for Bree being paramount in his life—he still lusted for her friend, now more than ever before.
Seven
Alexis went through the motions of getting ready for bed but she was so wired right now she knew sleep would be impossible. Today had gone off well, if you discounted how it had left Raoul feeling. No one had seemed to mind when he’d cut and run from the gathering, not even Catherine who’d seemed to understand his need to be alone. The party had gone very pleasantly, even if she hadn’t been able to enjoy it, too aware of Raoul’s absence.
She’d not long thrown herself against the fine cotton sheets of her king-size bed and switched off her light when there was a gentle knock at the bedroom door. There was only one person that could be. She slid from the bed and walked quickly toward the door.
“Raoul?” she asked, as she turned the knob and opened the door wide.
His eyes flew across her, taking in her silk nightgown—one of her few indulgences from her time in Italy last year—and her bare feet in one sweep.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”
He went to walk away but she put out a hand to stop him.
“It’s okay. Did you need me for something?”
He looked at her in the dark, and through the sheen of moonlight that filtered into her room she saw the glitter of his eyes. His face was pale, his whiskers a dark shadow on his cheeks and jaw. He’d never before looked so dangerous, or so appealing to her. She took an involuntary step back and saw the look of chagrin that crossed his face.
“I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
“You’re hurting. I—” She stopped herself before she could repeat her earlier words of understanding.
He’d been right. She couldn’t possibly know or understand what he’d been through. Bree had been her friend for years, but the last two years of Bree’s life she’d barely even spoken to her, battling with envy, then guilt, after Bree and Raoul had gotten together. Now, even though she desperately missed her friend, those bitter emotions were all still there. The envy that, even in death, her friend could command such unceasing love—and the guilt that she continued to not only want that for herself, but that she wanted it from the very same man.
She drew in a breath. “There’s no need to apologize, Raoul. I should have been more sensitive to your needs.”
“My needs? I don’t even know what they are anymore. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t know anything anymore.”
She made a sound of sympathy and reached up to cup his face with one hand. “You’ve been through hell. You’re still there. It’s okay. I’ll back off with the social stuff. You obviously need more time.”
He lifted a hand to press against hers and she felt the heat of his palm on one side, the rasp of his unshaven jaw on the other. The mingled sensations sent a tingle of longing up her arm and she was appalled that even as the man was visibly struggling with a devastating loss, she couldn’t hold her attraction back. That her body, having a recalcitrant mind of its own, was right now warming to his very presence. Her nipples were beading against the sheer fabric of her nightgown and she felt a long slow pull of hunger dragging from her core.
“Time is something I have too much of. Time to think. I don’t want to think anymore, Alexis. For once, I just want to feel.”
“Feel...?”
“Yes, feel. Something, anything other than the pain inside. I want the emptiness to go away.”
He turned his head so that his lips were now pressing against her palm. If he’d seared her skin with a branding iron it couldn’t have had a more overwhelming effect. She gasped at the jolt of electricity that shuddered through her hand and down her arm. When he bent his head to hers and his hot dry lips captured her own she felt her knees buckle beneath her. Momentarily she gave an inward groan at how clichéd her reaction was, but it was only seconds before awareness of clichés, or anything else other than this man and how he made her feel, fled from her consciousness.
All there was right now was scalding heat, flames of need licking up through her body as she clung to Raoul, as she anchored herself to his strength and poured all her years of forbidden longing into returning his kiss. When he lifted his mouth from hers she just stood there, dazed by the power of her feelings for him and by the emotion he aroused in her.
“Come with me, to my room,” he rasped. “I can’t do this in here.”
She nodded, letting him draw her down the hallway and into his room. The bedroom door snicked closed behind them and he led her to his bed.
She tumbled into the sheets, Raoul following close behind. As the weight of his body settled against hers she flexed upward against him, pressing against the hard evidence of his arousal. He groaned against her throat, his unshaven jaw scraping softly against her skin, and she relished every sensation, every touch. It felt as if she’d put her whole life on hold for this very moment and she was going to savor every second of it.
Alexis fought open the buttons on Raoul’s shirt, her fingertips eagerly skimming along the ridged muscles of his abdomen as she worked the garment away from his body and then off entirely. She wanted to touch every inch of him and then to taste every inch in turn. She trailed a gentle line down his neck and then skimmed over the strength of his shoulders before tracing the definition of his chest. Beneath her touch she felt him respond with tiny tremors, especially when she circled his nipples with the pad of her thumb then lifted her head to kiss him there.
He shifted, bearing his weight on one arm as he manacled her wrists with his free hand.
“But I want to touch you,” she protested on a whispered breath.
“Too much,” he said succinctly in reply before restraining her hands above her head.
She knew she could have pulled free at any time but there was something so decadently wonderful about being laid open to him like this. About giving him her trust, total and unquestioning.
He kissed along the line of her jaw, down her neck, making her squirm and arch her back, pushing herself upward, supplicant, toward him. And then, his mouth was at her breasts. Through the fine fabric of her nightgown she felt the warmth of his lips, his breath and then, oh, God, his tongue as he suckled on her.
His whole body shook with restraint as he lingered over each aching tip, sending shock waves of sensation tumbling over her and winding up the tension in her lower belly to near excruciating tautness. He let go of her hands to grab at the hem of her nighty and sweep it off her body, laying her bare to his scrutiny in the moonlit room.
Wanting What She Can't Have Page 6