Tempting the Knight (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 2)

by Heidi Rice

  She’d made a decision five years ago during rehab to stop trying to attract Seb’s attention. To stop caring about what he thought of her, because it had only made her think less of herself. But Ty was right; she didn’t deserve to be treated this way, not anymore.

  “When they kicked me out of St. J’s? I would have loved you to interfere then. But you didn’t say one word in my defense. They tore me away from the only friends I had. Mercy and Dawn and Faith were so important to me, and yet you didn’t do a single thing to stop them.”

  “If you’d wanted to stay at the school, you shouldn’t have stolen the bloody wine,” he said with unswerving certainty.

  But I didn’t steal the bloody wine.

  She wanted to scream the truth at him. But the futility of protesting her innocence, ten years after the fact was obvious. And it would only make her remember the man who had been convinced of her innocence after knowing her for only three days. Not that she was ever likely to forget him.

  “You wouldn’t have defended me anyway,” she said, seeing it all so clearly now. “Because it would have meant actually bothering to see me.”

  “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think? Even for you.”

  The droll comment sliced to the bone. But she could see it for what it was now. A distraction technique. One that Seb had used countless times before.

  “Really?” She shot back. “It’s melodramatic to want your support, to need some small sense that the one family member I have left at least cares enough about me to be there when I need him?”

  The problem hadn’t been that she felt too much. It had been that he refused to admit he felt anything at all.

  “I survived the accident,” he said. “What more do you want?”

  “Much, much more,” she said. “I wanted you to hold me, when we stood by their graves together. I wanted you to stay with me instead of running off to join the French Foreign Legion weeks after they died. I wanted you to let me come home for the holidays without making me beg. I wanted you to welcome me back a few months ago and I wanted you to accept a simple dinner invitation tonight without making up some pathetic excuse.”

  He flinched, his whole body going rigid. And for a moment she thought she might have pierced the armor plating he had worn around his emotions ever since he had regained consciousness in the emergency room all those years ago. But within seconds, the inscrutable expression had returned.

  “At least I didn’t get lost in a haze of booze and pills and God knows what else,” he murmured.

  “No you didn’t,” she said. “And you’re right, I did. And it’s true that wasn’t your fault, it was mine.” Because blaming him for her addiction issues would be as damaging as blaming herself for his emotional withdrawal. “But I did eventually face my demons, Seb. And I’m prepared to spend the rest of my life making sure they don’t beat me again.” Even though it meant letting go of the one thing that could have made her truly happy. “What I’d like to know is when exactly are you planning to face yours?”

  He stared at her for the longest time, but his dark eyes remained blank, his expression revealing nothing, until he finally said. “I don’t have any demons.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said, even though she already knew the argument was pointless. “The accident changed you. I don’t know how or why particularly, but maybe you need therapy to get over that?”

  One eyebrow rose in cynical disbelief. “I don’t need therapy. I’m absolutely fine.”

  She threw up her hands. “Right, yes, of course, you’re absolutely fine, Sebastian. Silly me.”

  He didn’t respond, but then she hadn’t really expected him to.

  She walked back through the rambling bushes, refusing to let the foolish, self-indulgent tears fall.

  The lush blooms and vibrant colors seemed to mock her, a testament to how much care and attention her brother had lavished on them. He’d obviously nurtured their mother’s old plants, coaxed all this fragrant beauty out of them with a patience and tenderness he’d never been able to show her.

  As the anger drained away, it left the hollow sense of loss in its wake. Not just for the brother she’d once had, but for the man who might have been able to love her—if only she had been able to turn back the clock.

  She took the staircase back to the second floor landing and walked into her own rooms. Fabulous, well that had been a staggering success, now she felt even less worthy of affection than a bunch of bloody rose bushes.

  The sound of a commotion from outside had her peering out of the window to see Dawn, Mercy, and Faith piling out of a cab. And the surge of joy and surprise eased the hollow loss, at least a little.

  Her friends were here. The women who had stood by her no matter what.

  She had lost Seb’s affection through no fault of her own all those years ago and killed Ty’s stone dead eight days ago. But she had this, she had them, and right now, she needed them, more than ever.

  Sucking in a careful breath, she rushed out of the room and headed down the stairs, determined not to give in to her pity party and fall to pieces in front of them.

  The bell rang and the housekeeper appeared from nowhere to check the peephole in the door.

  “Let them in, Mrs. Jempson.” Zelda called out, countermanding the order she’d given that morning.

  The flash of bulbs, the whirr of shutters and the shouts for a statement burst into the quiet entrance hall as her three friends spilled through the door as if propelled by a hurricane. Mrs. Jempson slammed the door shut behind them.

  Zelda raced down the last few stairs as Faith lifted the large flask she had stowed under her arm. “We have virgin mojitos!”

  “And Bridget Jones and Eliza Bennett,” Dawn chimed in, holding a selection of classic DVDs aloft.

  “And enough truffles to sink the Titanic.” Mercy finished, brandishing a bag from Zelda’s favourite chocolatier.

  Zelda smiled as tears of gratitude clogged her throat.

  Bloody men, who needs them anyway? When you have handmade chocolates. Faith’s delicious virgin mojitos. Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy.

  And girlfriends to die for.

  “Then it must be slumber party time,” she said, but her voice broke on the words and the traitorous tears slipped down her cheeks.

  Mercy rushed forward to gather her close. “Zel, it’s okay. We’re here now. We’ll keep you safe from those pigs.”

  “I know.” She eased back, furiously scrubbing away the tears. “It’s not them; I’m used to them saying crappy things about me. I know it doesn’t matter.”

  “Then what is it?” Faith asked, sounding concerned. “Because you look devastated and that’s not like you.”

  “It’s silly. Stupid.” She shook her head, struggling to come up with a convincing reason for her pity party, because she couldn’t tell them about Ty. She just couldn’t. “It’s just… I had a row with Sebastian,” she said, deciding to throw her brother to the wolves.

  “That beast! What has he done now?” Fire flashed in Mercy’s eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She laid her hand on Mercy’s arm, her friend’s reaction more volatile than the sympathetic looks she was getting from Dawn and Faith.

  “It does matter,” Mercy said. “What did he do?”

  “I asked him to join me for dinner, and he came up with some lame excuse,” she continued. “So I confronted him about it. But it was a disaster, as usual. He looked right through me, the way he always does. And I let it hurt me, when I know I shouldn’t.”

  “Is he upstairs?” Mercy asked, the fire still blazing.

  “Yes, but…”

  Before Zelda had a chance to say more, Mercy pressed the bag of chocolates into her arms. “Take these, and don’t eat all the butterscotch walnut ones. I shall be back shortly.”

  Mercy swept past her to charge across the foyer towards the staircase.

  “Where is she off to?” Zel asked, bemused, as her friend’s heels cracked like rifle fire on
the parquet flooring, the waves of ebony hair bouncing on her shoulders with each defiant stride.

  “My guess…” Faith piped up. “She’s gone to give your beast of a brother a taste of the Spanish Inquisition.”

  Chapter Twelve

  ‡

  “I still can’t believe they’d lie like that… in a freaking press release. It’s unreal…” Faith trailed another of the strawberries Mercy had stashed away in her Godiva haul through the white chocolate dip, looking relaxed even though she would have to return to the pub soon, because she’d only managed to get a couple of hours cover. “You should sue.”

  “And I think we all know who she should get to do the legal work,” Dawn added.

  Zelda took a long gulp of the chilly drink, Dawn’s teasing making the blush fire across her cheeks and her throat close. Of course her friends had seen the photo of her and Ty watching the fireworks at Coney Island. She’d expected them to comment on it, eventually. And she thought she’d been prepared for it.

  But she wasn’t prepared. She couldn’t talk about him. Even with her friends. She’d avoided calling them all week, ever since disappearing so abruptly with him during their monthly meet up at the pub. And apart from a text from Mercy the next morning, which read—If you need to talk about a certain hot attorney, call me—her friends hadn’t contacted her about the incident, because they were being thoughtful and giving her space. And perhaps they were being discreet for Faith’s sake.

  They knew how close Faith was to her brothers. And they also all knew about Zelda’s less than stellar track record with men. And they had probably concluded Ty was just another of her many, many fuck-and-forget flings. And she hadn’t wanted to disabuse them of that fact. She’d told herself it was because she didn’t want to upset Faith. But that was just a cowardly excuse to protect herself, because the truth was talking about Ty was the same as thinking about him, it only made her more aware of how much she missed him.

  Keeping her silence now would probably be best, but despite those good intentions, try as she might she could not stop the ache in her throat forming into a huge boulder.

  “Shit.” Tears welled again, and she brushed them away with her fist, but it was already too late.

  “Oh hell, I’m so sorry, Zelda.” Dawn wrapped an arm round her shoulders. “You’re under a lot of pressure because of that dumb photo. I shouldn’t have kidded you about it.”

  “No, you should have.” She sniffed.

  Mercy offered her the tissue dispenser, her face still flushed from her earlier showdown with Seb—which she’d refused to elaborate on, except to say ‘your brother is a disaster.’

  Zelda took the tissue and blew her nose, and quashed the cowardly urge to use her argument with Seb to deflect attention again. No doubt he had blanked Mercy, too, which was probably why her friend didn’t want to talk about what had happened upstairs.

  Poor Mercy, she was such a loyal friend, and such an optimist about people. And always so determined to face any problem head on. But even she would now finally be forced to admit Sebastian was a lost cause, if she couldn’t make an impression on him in all her glorious Argentinian fury.

  But as the four of them lounged on an array of colorful pillows in the living room of Zelda’s suite, and Zelda observed her friends’ expressions, all shadowed with concern for her, she knew she couldn’t pretend Seb was the real cause of her distress. Any more than the jackals still amassed outside her front door.

  “The press stuff doesn’t bother me,” she said.

  “But they flat out lied about you,” Faith said. “They shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.”

  “If I wanted to sue them, I’d have to prove I have a reputation to protect. And I don’t. And that’s my fault, not theirs.”

  Faith opened her mouth to protest again, but Dawn interrupted. “So what is bothering you, Zel? And don’t tell us it’s because of what happened with Seb, because he’s been a lost cause for a long time…”

  Mercy swore softly in Spanish in agreement.

  Zelda stared at her mojito, blotting away another tear. Even if she wanted to confide in them, was there really any point? This thing between her and Ty, whatever it was, was already over, and she’d never been one to pick through the wreckage. Not that she’d ever actually had any wreckage worth picking through before.

  “You looked very happy in that photo with Faith’s hot brother.”

  Zelda’s gaze met Mercy’s at the quietly spoken observation. Mercy had seen through her lies and evasions. Just as she had once before, when she had come to Paris for a flying visit five years ago and found Zelda living in a squalid unheated apartment in the Pigalle, strung out on quaaludes and vodka.

  Mercy was the one who had made her see what a mess she was making of her life. And made her acknowledge how low she had allowed herself to sink. Not with angry words or accusations, but with the exact same expression she wore now which simply said: I am here for you, and I will help you, but only if you want to be helped.

  Guilt assailed her. She should never have used her friend’s passion and loyalty against her, pretending Seb was the problem, when he really wasn’t.

  “Did Ty do something to upset you?” Faith asked. “He’s one of the good guys, I swear, but he wasn’t behaving like himself last Thursday. If he’s done something dumb, you can tell us. He’s my brother and I love him, but he’s still a guy.”

  Zelda shook her head. God, how much worse could she feel about this? Now even Faith was willing to stand by her, to trust her and support her. She couldn’t keep silent about this, and let Faith believe that Ty was at fault, when she was the one who had messed up.

  “He didn’t do anything wrong. He is one of the good guys.” Which was precisely why he was too good for her. “All he did was tell me he was falling in love with me.”

  The silence could only be shock, Zelda decided. Not that a guy would say he was in love her, because she’d had tons of half-assed declarations of undying love over the years. It was the hazard of being a supermodel with a very liberal attitude to sex. But that a guy like Ty would say it. A guy who was brave and honest and sincere and always meant what he said.

  “And this is bad because…?” Dawn asked, pouring another virgin mojito and handing it to Zelda.

  Zelda swallowed, easing the dryness in her throat. “I hadn’t told him the truth about me. Now he knows the truth and he knows we can never be together and I hurt him and I wish I hadn’t, but I did.”

  “What truth are you talking about?” Mercy probed.

  “That I’m an alcoholic, of course,” she said.

  “And this means you can’t be together because… Why exactly?” Dawn asked.

  “Because my recovery has to be a priority. And who wants to live with someone that can’t ever fully commit to a relationship? He deserves better than that. I could never make him happy.”

  “Umm, excuse me,” Dawn interceded again. “Surely it’s up to Tyrone to decide what he deserves and what will make him happy.”

  “And knowing Ty, he won’t be shy about telling you,” Faith chipped in. “Because he overthinks every damn thing. He’s had a five-year plan in place since he was about ten years old. So if he’s decided he wants you…?” Faith let the question hang in the air.

  “I think now he knows the actual extent of what he would be taking on, he’s reconsidered.” Zelda countered.

  “What makes you say that?” Mercy asked.

  “He hasn’t contacted me again, since last Thursday. We had one final fuck in Sully’s basement. He told me he loved me. I told him I was an alcoholic and that was the end of it.” Okay, maybe she had also told him to leave her alone, or words to that effect—and maybe she had banged on rather loudly about the importance of her recovery. But even so, he hadn’t exactly put up much of a fight, once her secret was out. She felt a tiny prickle of irritation at his instant capitulation surfacing beneath the hurt. Which had to be about as insane as her stealth attack on Sebastia
n while he was building his trellis. But she’d take insane over devastated any day.

  “I don’t think I needed to know about the final fuck, thanks,” Faith said.

  “Sorry,” Zelda mumbled, contrite.

  “Oh, I don’t know, for those of us not getting any, it creates a rather compelling visual,” Mercy said.

  “For you, maybe.” Faith rolled her eyes in exaggerated patience. “He’s not your brother.”

  “Enough you two.” Dawn held up her hands, acting in her familiar role as adjudicator. “Can we just focus here for a minute on something other than the compelling picture of Zelda and Faith’s hot brother bumping ugly in Sully’s basement?”

  “Yes let’s,” Faith said, sounding relieved.

  “Moving swiftly on.” Dawn smiled at Faith. “I just want to ask you one question, Zel. Did you at any time give Faith’s studly brother reason to believe you returned his feelings?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Why not?” Dawn shot straight back. “When it’s blindingly obvious to everyone here present and anyone who has seen that photo, you are completely nuts about the guy.”

  Was she? Was that why she felt so miserable? Was it possible to fall for a guy who was totally wrong for her in every conceivable way, in the space of three fricking days, when she had never fallen for anyone before? With the question came a wave of panic, very similar to the wave of panic that had assailed her the first time he’d said it.

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel,” she said. “Or how he feels. My recovery has to come first. Always.”

  “That’s true, and that’s laudable,” Dawn said. “But seriously, Zel, why does there have to be a conflict between the two?”

  “Because there just is. I can’t make those sort of changes in my life without thinking it through carefully, knowing what I’m getting into, anticipating all the pitfalls.”

  “Which would totally explain why you panicked when he told you how he felt. But does not explain why you’re still panicking,” Dawn commented, with razor-sharp logic and intuition. “Surely those are all things you can talk through with your sponsor Amelie? Or us? Or in your meetings? Or even with Ty?”