by Julia James
But he hadn’t known her.
He hadn’t known her at all.
Slowly, very slowly, he spoke.
‘What did you just say?’
She started. Had she not heard him approach on the soft sand?
‘What did you just say, Clare?’ he said again.
Her shoulders hunched. When she spoke, her voice was shaky, raking.
‘I said I hated you. I said I loathed you. And if I didn’t, I should have. And I’ll say it now instead.’
He shook his head. She couldn’t see the gesture, but he didn’t care. It came automatically to him.
‘But that isn’t true, is it, Clare? That’s not true at all. Not four years ago when you sat at that table in the St John and I told you it was over. You didn’t hate me then. It wasn’t hate, was it, Clare? Not then.’
His hands curved over her shoulders. He turned her around to him. The sunlight blinded her eyes. Or something did. She stood looking at him. Hollowed out, emptied out.
‘I hated you,’ she whispered. ‘You threw me out of your life. I hated you.’
He shook his head. Sunlight glanced on the sable of his hair. She felt faintness draining through her, her legs too weak to stand. He held her steady by her shoulders. His hands were warm and strong, pressing into her through her T-shirt.
‘You didn’t, Clare. You didn’t hate me then. You didn’t hate me at all.’
‘Yes, I did. I did and I do!’ Her voice was fierce, so fierce.
His thumbs rubbed on her collarbone, slow and strange.
‘You gave yourself away, Clare. Just now. Gave yourself away. For the first time. The only time. Gave yourself clean away. And now I know, don’t I? I know why you walked away from me never to return, not even for your clothes, your books, your tooth-brush—everything you left at my apartment.’
‘You should be grateful that I did. Grateful.’ The fierceness was still in her voice, raw and rasping. ‘I must have been the easiest mistress to dump you’d ever had.’
His face stilled. There was something very strange in his eyes. Very strange indeed. She couldn’t tell what it was. It must be the sun blinding her. That was all it could be…
For a long, endless moment he was silent. She felt the gentle lap of water round her feet. Felt the hot sun beating down on her. Felt his hands over her shoulders, pressing down on her. They were completely still—like him.
Then, into the silence, he spoke.
‘You were the hardest,’ he said.
Her eyes flared. ‘The hardest?’ she jeered bitterly. ‘You said “It’s over” and I went! I went without a question, without a word! I just went!”
‘You were the hardest,’ he said again.
He dropped his hands from her. She felt bereft.
His face was sombre.
‘I got rid of you because I had to. To save my sanity. To keep me safe. Because I was scared—in the biggest danger I’d ever been in. And I couldn’t hack it.’ His jaw tightened. ‘When I went to New York that last time I knew I had to act. I knew I could put it off no longer. Because the danger was—terrifying. And I knew when I came back that I had to deal with it. Fast. Urgently. Permanently.’
His eyes rested on her. They had no expression in them. She had seen them look that way before…
‘So I did. I dealt with it. Immediately. Ruthlessly. Brutally.’
He paused again. ‘And it worked. Worked so perfectly. But as I realised that you had simply…gone…I realised something else as well.’
His eyes were still on her. Expressionless eyes. Except for one faint, impossible fragment…
‘I realised,’ he said, and each word fell from him like a weight, ‘I would have given anything in the world to have you back.’
His eyes moved past her. Out to the sea beyond. A sea without limits. Without a horizon.
‘But you were gone. As if I’d pressed a button. Just…gone. I started to look for you, to wait for you. You had to come back—you’d left everything with me. So you had to come back. But you never did. You just—vanished.’
‘You said I did it to try and make you come after me.’ Her voice was still very faint.
He kept looking out to sea, far out to sea. As if into the past.
‘I wanted it to be for that reason. I wanted it to be for any reason that meant that you didn’t want to go. That you wanted to come back to me—that you wanted me to come after you.’ He breathed in harshly, spoke harshly. ‘That you did feel something for me. Then—when finally I’d accepted that when I’d said “It’s over” to you, you had indeed gone for ever—then…’ His eyes went to her, hard, unforgiving. ‘I told myself that I had made the right decision after all—that there was no point regretting it, no point wishing I had not done what I had. You’d felt nothing for me. Nothing at all. Which meant I had to move on, get over it. Get on with my life. So that’s what I did. I had no choice—you were gone. So I got on with my life.’
She shut her eyes, then opened them again.
‘You were angry with me when you saw me again.’
The sombre look was in his eyes again.
‘I was angry with you because you’d been able to walk away from me without a second glance. With nothing—nothing at all. I was angry with you because you’d made me live with the choice I’d made. The decision I’d made. To play safe. And by playing safe to lose what I most wanted.’
He took another harsh breath. ‘You. That’s what I wanted. You.’
She looked into his eyes. ‘Why?’ It was all she said—all she could say.
Something moved in his eyes.
‘Why?’ His voice changed. ‘Why?’ he echoed. ‘Because I wanted you there, still. With me. Not to let you go.’ He looked at her again. ‘It scared me. I’d never wanted that before. Never. Not with any woman. Not even with you until I realised, that last time we had together, before I went to New York, that you had become important to me. And it scared me—scared me senseless—because I had never felt anything like that before, because it made me feel afraid and out of control—and worst, worst of all, it made me realise that I had no idea, none, of what you felt.’
He looked at her.
‘You never showed your emotions to me, Clare. You were always so reserved. I couldn’t read you—I didn’t know what you felt, if you felt anything at all. That scared me even more. So I wanted out. Because that was the safest call to make.’
His eyes slipped past her again.
‘I was a fool,’ he said heavily. ‘I made the wrong call. And because of that I lost you. And I lost the son you were carrying. The son you hid from me. And now I know why—I know why you never told me about Joey.’
His gaze shot to her again, holding her like rods of fire. ‘I know why, and the knowledge kills me. And it hurts me to think what I did to you last night. Do you know why I did it, Clare—do you?’
His hands had come up again, to lie heavy on her shoulders. ‘I deliberately, cold-bloodedly took you to bed last night with one purpose only—to get you pregnant. I had to get you pregnant! I had to. Because if you were pregnant again, then this time, this time, you would have to marry me. You couldn’t turn me down. I’d make sure of it. And that way I’d get Joey—I’d get Joey, and he’s all I wanted. When I discovered you’d hidden my son from me, the only reason I could come up with for why you’d done it was to punish me for finishing with you. The reaction of a woman scorned. And it vindicated me. Vindicated what I’d done to you, the call I’d made. A woman who could vengefully hide my son from me wasn’t a woman I wanted in my life, wasn’t a woman I should…care about. But that wasn’t why you hid Joey from me, was it, Clare? Was it?’
‘No.’ It was a whisper. All she could manage.
‘It was because I hurt you,’ he said. ‘I hurt you so badly that night at the St John that all you could do was walk. Run. Hide. For ever. And there was only one reason why I could have hurt you.’
His hands slid from her shoulders, cupping her face, lifting
it to his so that she had to look deep, deep into his eyes.
‘Why was I able to hurt you, Clare? Hurt you so badly?’ His voice was strained. Desperate. ‘Please tell me—please. I don’t deserve it—but—’
‘I was in love with you,’ she said.
For one long, agonising moment there was silence. Then, ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Thank God.’
His thumbs smoothed along her cheekbones. Silent tears were running.
‘Don’t cry, Clare. Don’t ever cry for me again. I’ll never let you cry again. Not for me. Not ever for me.’
He gazed down into her swimming eyes. ‘I’m going to do everything in my power, Clare, to win that love again. Everything. Because, fool that I was—that I am—fool that I have been in everything to do with you—I at least now know this. I had fallen in love with you then, four years ago, and didn’t realize—refused to believe I was capable of it And I still love you. I know that completely and absolutely, because last night—’ he gave a shuddering breath ‘—last night was my own punishment. My punishment for having denied what I felt for you—a terrible punishment. Because last night I realised, with all the horror in the world, that I still love you—love a woman who had felt nothing for me, had been able to walk away from me without a word, who had wreaked vindictive revenge on me for having spurned her by keeping my own son from me.
‘But it was never, never that that stopped you telling me about Joey. It was because you could not bear to have anything to do with the man who had hurt you—because you love me.’ His voice changed, and she could hear the pain in it. ‘I’ve wronged you so much, Clare. Four years ago I hurt you unbearably—and I’ve hurt you again. I can’t ask for your love again, but I will win it back—with all my being. Ah, no, don’t weep, Clare—not for me, never for me!’ His thumbs smoothed again, but her eyes were spilling, spilling uncontrollably, and her face was crumpling, and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop.
He wrapped her to him. And the feel of his arms going about her, holding her so close, so safe, was the most wonderful feeling in all the world, all there could ever be. He held her so tightly, as if he would never, could never let her go. She could hear words, murmuring, soothing, and she could not understand them, but it did not matter.
She could hear them in her heart. Know them in her heart.
And it was all she needed. All she would ever need.
Slowly, holding her hand, Xander walked her back towards the villa.
‘I didn’t know anything about love. Did not know that that was what I had started to feel for you. I only knew that you were a woman I did not want to lose. A woman whose cool composure seemed to inflame me with desire.’
A sensual, reminiscent smile played at his mouth, and Clare felt the so-familiar weakness start inside her.
‘It got to me—every time. More and more. I revelled in the difference that only I could make in you, the sensuality beneath the surface that only I could release in you. When we were out together I didn’t like you to touch me. I liked you to look untouched—untouchable. Waiting for me. Waiting for me to get you back to the hotel, the apartment, where I could finally indulge myself in doing what I’d been holding back from all evening…’
Clare looked at him. Was that why he had been like that? Not because he’d thought her out of line being physically demonstrative towards him even in the briefest way?
‘I didn’t know,’ she said. Her voice was faint again.
He glanced at her, frowning. ‘You must have known—I couldn’t keep my hands off you. You must have seen that I was…losing control. And that last time—surely that last time you must have seen, known, sensed that I was…?’
Her throat tightened. Pain, remembered pain, pierced her.
‘I did! I thought it meant—meant that you were beginning…that I might mean something to you. But then…’ she could hardly speak ‘…then you came back and took me out to dinner, and I was trying to screw up my courage, to pin my hopes on a future with you and tell you…tell you that I was pregnant.’ She swallowed. ‘And then you spoke first.’
His hand crushed hers, tightening automatically. He stopped dead.
‘Theos mou—that it should have hung in the balance on so fine a thread. How the gods mocked me that night. If I had only—only—’
Anguish silenced him. She lifted his hand with hers, bringing it to her mouth and kissing it as she might Joey’s, to comfort him.
‘We can’t undo the past, Xander—neither of us can. We can only—’ her voice caught ‘—only be grateful—so very, very grateful—that we have been given a second chance.’ She took a deep, painful breath. ‘I know I should have come back to tell you about Joey. I know that. I’ve known it all these years, and fought it. Fought it for my own selfish reasons. Because I was too much a coward to think of anyone but myself. Because I could not face letting you back into my life after you had thrown me out of it. Could not face being what I knew I must be—the unwanted mother of your son. I told myself I did not need to tell you because you would not want Joey anyway—that you would, out of common decency, pay for him, but you would not want him. And when you found out about him, and you were so angry, I knew—I knew you had a right to be. But I didn’t want to admit it—to face up to it!’
She took another unforgiving breath.
‘I’ve been punished for keeping him from you—not just by your anger, but by my shame at keeping him from you, not giving you the chance to say you wanted him, not giving Joey what I knew he could have had. A father. And by more—by the knowledge that if I’d just gone back to you, if I hadn’t in my pride, my own pain and anger, kept away from you…’
‘It would have been a reward I did not deserve,’ Xander said heavily, condemningly. ‘Not after my cowardice in not admitting to myself what I had come to feel for you, in denying my own emotions. Not after my cruelty in the way I ended it—so brutally, so unfeelingly. Even if you had not loved me it would still have been brutal. But knowing now what you were feeling as I sat there and said those words to you—’ He broke off, pain in his eyes.
Clare’s heart filled. ‘It’s over, Xander. It’s gone. Don’t torment yourself. Let’s start again—a clean slate, a new beginning.’ She paused, her eyes lambent suddenly. ‘Did you mean it—about last night? That you were trying get me pregnant?’
His face shadowed instantly. ‘Theos mou, Clare—forgive me for that. I should never have—’
‘But I don’t forgive you,’ she said. ‘I thank you! Oh, Xander, can we have another child? Now?’
Xander caught her and swept her up into his arms. She gave a gasp, and clutched her arms around his neck.
‘Joey can have a dozen brothers and sisters. And I, my most adored one, will take the greatest, most grateful pleasure in fathering each and every one of them.’
His mouth caught hers, warm and soft and so full of love that it was like heaven in her heart. She felt her body quicken, answering with swift eagerness the arousal of his touch as he carried her off, bearing her away, striding swiftly over the grass to reach the terrace, sliding back the bedroom door with a powerful glide of his arm.
Inside, the instant cool of the room embraced them—but it could not quench the heat rising between them, the heat of passion, of desire, as they came down on the bed in a sweet tangle of limbs.
‘I love you so much,’ he said, gazing down into her eyes. ‘I loved you then; I love you now. I will love you for ever. I love everything about you. Everything that is you. Everything. Except—’ his expression changed suddenly, and there was a disapproving frown on his face ‘—this.’
He lifted the long frayed end of her pigtail and eyed it with critical disdain.
‘This has to go,’ he told her. ‘No negotiation.’
‘It’s very practical,’ said Clare.
‘You don’t need practical,’ he said. ‘You just need me. And I—’ his fingers deftly disposed of the restraining band and then started to unplait the strands, ‘—just need you
. And we both—’ he flicked free her hair, running his fingers through the pale gold of it ‘—need Joey, and Joey needs us—and a new brother or sister!’
She pulled his head down to her and kissed him. Then she pushed his head back a little, so she could speak.
‘Xander,’ she told him, ‘Joey has been with Juliette for a good long time now, and soon he’s going to have finished hosing down the cars, and anyone else within range, and realise that he hasn’t been swimming yet. And that means he’s going to want you to take him. And that means—’ she pulled him down to kiss him again, then let him go to finish speaking ‘—we had really, really better get on with this! Right now.’
‘Oh, Kyria Xander Anaketos-to-be…’ Xander’s voice husked, his eyes agleam with anticipation. ‘How very, very happy I am to oblige.’
His mouth lowered to hers, and softly, sensuously, with tenderness and desire, passion and pleasure, he began to make love to her.
EPILOGUE
THE sun was setting over the Aegean in a splendour of gold. Enthroned in a huge bath chair on the foredeck, and adorned with a very extravagant hat, Vi surveyed the scene, a satisfied smile on her wrinkled face. But it was not the gold and crimson sky that drew her approbation. It was the sight of Clare and Xander, still in their wedding finery, their arms around each other’s waists, gazing out over the sea through which the huge yacht was carving its smooth path.
On her lap sat Joey, resplendent in a tuxedo the miniature version of his father’s.
‘Tell me a story, Nan,’ said Joey.
Vi settled her shoulders into the cushions and reached for the cup of tea that wasn’t quite as good as proper English tea, seeing how it had been made by a Greek chef, but was very welcome for all that. It had been a long day for her, but one that had brought a lift to her heart. Young people really could be so foolish, so blind and so stubborn—it took such a lot to make them see sense.
‘A story?’ she said, and took a mouthful of tea before setting down the cup carefully. Her eyes went to the couple by the rail, who had turned to each other. ‘Well, let’s see. Once upon a time there was a princess, and a prince fell in love with her, but he was very silly and didn’t say so. And the Princess fell in love with him, and she was very silly and didn’t say so. And so they parted. And the Princess had a baby, but she was even sillier then, and didn’t tell the Prince, and so—’