by Annie West
She burrowed in and an emotion he couldn’t name swamped him.
‘I’m glad I’ve got you, Flynn. I love you so much.’
That ache started again, high in his chest. If he didn’t know better he’d think it was his heart. It had to be something far more prosaic. He’d forgotten to breathe, that was all. He’d been so caught up in her revelations.
A long time later, she spoke.
‘It started the same as every winter ball, only that was the year after our mother died. So I had to be the hostess.’ She shifted uneasily on his lap.
Flynn held her gently, stunned that she’d kept all this to herself.
‘The house was full of people our father wanted to impress. People with money or influence. With business opportunities he wanted to exploit. I found out later he’d been in financial trouble for some time, but you’d never have known it. He was always a lavish spender on things outsiders would notice.’
He watched her pleat the fabric of her skirt.
‘He’d bought me a new wardrobe—evening gowns, especially. He said I needed to look the part if I was going to be half the hostess my mother had been. I didn’t get to choose the clothes or I’d have picked something bright and modern. They were just delivered one day...lots of chic, glamorous gowns.’
She shook her head, an unhappy laugh escaping.
‘I’d never worn anything so low-cut. They made me uncomfortable. Plus the gowns were all white. Every single one of them.’
Flynn remembered that night. She’d worn a full-length dress that shone like spun pearls in the moonlight. Her bare shoulders had been scratched and her cleavage might have distracted him in other circumstances. A slash of scarlet lipstick had smeared across her cheek. She hadn’t looked at all like the little girl he’d remembered from his youth.
‘What’s wrong with white?’ Flynn frowned, realising he’d missed something.
‘Nothing. Except he’d done it for a reason. Why do you think brides wear white?’
‘Tradition?’
As he said it he recalled Ava’s insistence that she wouldn’t wear it the day they married.
‘It’s a symbol of virginity.’
In the silence he heard her swallow. Her hands clenched her dress tighter.
‘I didn’t realise at first, but he was showing me off to his guests. Not all of them, but a select few who knew what he was doing. Apparently I was the prize.’
‘Tell me it’s not what I think.’ Flynn didn’t recognise his own voice. This was a nightmare.
‘I wish I could.’
Abruptly she moved, leaning back in his arms, her gaze colliding with his. Her face looked pinched and pale but her eyes blazed.
‘He was desperate for money and sponsors for a new project he thought would save him. There were three men he was courting—all of them staying in the house.’
She paused as if gathering her strength, her mouth drawn down in pain.
‘He was...auctioning me off. My virginity was apparently a drawcard.’
Flynn heard the words but could barely believe them.
‘I was to go to the highest bidder—the one who gave my father what he needed. Brayson was one of them.’ Her mouth twisted and her pain transfixed him as surely as a knife thrust through his belly.
Flynn fought for air. It had grown too thick for him to inhale. Fury boiled in his veins. ‘And I let the bastard walk out of here tonight. If I’d known—’
‘Flynn! That hurts.’
‘Sorry.’ He forced his arms to loosen so she could breathe, sliding his hands in what he hoped was a soothing stroke.
Sitting still was the hardest thing he’d done in his life. His body hardened, every nerve quickening for battle. Raw hatred filled him—for Cavendish, for the other men who’d played his despicable games, even for her mother, who’d left her at such a man’s mercy. He needed an outlet for the fury filling him but it would have to wait. Ava needed him.
‘What happened?’
‘The night of the ball one of them sent me a box of long-stemmed red roses.’ She swallowed but kept going. ‘It was a sign that the auction was over. That he’d...won me.’
‘Brayson?’ Flynn would rip him apart.
‘No, someone else. He died a couple of years ago.’ No mistaking the shuddering relief in her voice. ‘But Brayson knew. He was there that night, watching me all through the ball. Knowing that at the end of it I was expected to—’ her voice cracked ‘—to go with the winner.’
She sighed. ‘It went on for a lifetime. Hour after hour of being gawked at, drooled over, until I couldn’t stand it any more. My nerve broke and I started guzzling champagne to give me courage.’
‘That’s why you were drunk at the wheel.’ He’d been surprised at the time, he recalled. It hadn’t seemed in character.
She nodded. ‘I couldn’t go through with it. I wasn’t taking the car for a joyride that night. I was escaping. Not that I got far.’
‘You should have told me. I would have looked after you.’ Flynn cursed his obtuseness. Why hadn’t he probed further? Why hadn’t he questioned her behaviour?
Ava’s hand on his chest stopped him. ‘You did look after me. I can’t tell you what that meant. But I had to return the next morning. It was stupid to run off that way. I had to face my father one last time and tell him I was finished with him.’
She huffed out a tiny laugh that held a thread of steel as well as distress.
‘Besides, I’d raced out with nothing—not even a jacket. There were things I needed.’
Flynn tried to imagine her confronting the father who’d tried to sell her in a sordid business deal, but his imagination failed. It must have taken courage. More courage than he’d ever imagined Ava would need.
‘Your brother didn’t help you?’
‘Rupe was at school in disgrace, after flunking too many subjects. Our father didn’t want to see him.’
‘So you had no one.’
Flynn’s thoughts kept circling back to the memory of Ava that night—so beautiful, but so distressed. He’d assumed that when she returned to the Hall, whole and sober, all would be well. It lacerated him to realise she’d been utterly alone.
‘Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped.’
Her eyes locked with his and something tumbled over inside him, as if internal organs were rearranging themselves.
‘I know you would have.’
She leaned nearer and he breathed in the scent of her skin—roses and sweet woman.
‘But if my father had found out it would have meant dismissal for your mother. I couldn’t do that to her.’
Flynn covered her hand with his. ‘I wish I’d known.’
He didn’t tell her his mother had already agreed, at his urging, to leave. The tragic irony of Ava trying to protect his family struck him.
‘There’s nothing you could have done. I did what I needed to by leaving. I never saw him again after I told him what I thought of him,’ she said.
How hard had that been? To leave a life of luxury and fend for herself at seventeen, with no family and, he suspected, no money? He doubted she’d had the street-smarts of a lot of teens, given her upbringing.
That had taken backbone.
Pain was still stamped on her features.
‘There’s more, isn’t there?’
‘Not really. Just...’ She drew a breath, her gaze shifting. ‘I’ve always wondered if my father saw something in me—something...I don’t know...promiscuous. Something that made him think I’d be right for—’
‘Stop right there.’ Flynn battled to keep his voice steady. How could she think like that? He cupped her chin, drawing her face up so he could look her in the eye. ‘You’re not to blame for your corrupt father. You were a kid. And, f
ar from being promiscuous, you were a virgin when we married.’
‘Only because the whole experience put me off men.’
‘Until you found the right one.’ He stroked her cheek with his thumb, tenderness welling. ‘You had a traumatic experience, but what your father did was down to him. It had nothing to do with you.’
Flynn willed her to believe him. He couldn’t stand her thinking any of it was her fault.
‘And instead of going off the rails you fought back. You stood up for yourself and built a whole new life rather than let him brutalise you.’ He swallowed hard, appalled at what she’d faced. ‘I’m proud of you, Ava.’
Her slow smile made his heart stutter. It was like watching the sun break free of clouds.
‘I’ll make sure you never have to deal with Brayson again.’ It would give Flynn great satisfaction to deal with him personally. ‘And the other one. Tell me his name.’
Ava tilted her head, regarding him steadily. Did she read in his expression the surge of violent heat? The need to wreak vengeance on the men who’d done this to her?
‘There’s no need. It’s over.’
Flynn breathed deep. It wouldn’t be over till he’d dealt with them.
‘Really, Flynn.’ She leaned closer, her expression intense. ‘You’ve already made it better.’
‘Hardly.’ Ejecting Brayson from the Hall didn’t go anywhere near seeing that he got his just desserts.
Ava shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. When you took my part, without even asking for an explanation...’
She blinked, and to his horror her eyes filled.
‘Ava, don’t.’ He brushed his thumb under her eye, stopping the overflow.
‘It’s okay.’ Her smile was unsteady, but real. ‘Truly. For years I’ve felt I carried this...this taint. I tried shoving the past into a dark hole and pretending it never happened. Tonight it came out into the open, and you know what? I’m glad.’
She dragged in a deep breath.
‘It showed me I’m stronger than I thought. And it brought home how wonderful it is to have a man who loves me like you do—who trusts and supports me and stands up for me. I’m so used to standing up for myself, I can’t tell you what it means to have someone fighting in my corner.’
Her eyes shone like a glimpse of heaven.
‘I couldn’t ask for a more loving husband.’ She pressed soft lips to his and he felt himself melt. Or was that his conscience?
How could he, of all men, live up to her impossibly high expectations? It shocked him to realise how much he wanted to.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘YOU’RE SURE THIS is the place?’ Flynn peered through the windscreen wipers at the wind-lashed pavement. Despite the lunch hour, it was almost deserted as people avoided the weather.
‘I’m sure.’ Ava smiled. ‘You’re not the only one to know London. I’ve lived here for years too.’
This was her territory, just streets from where she’d once worked.
‘I’ll see you inside the restaurant.’ He switched off the ignition.
‘No, you won’t.’ Ava put a hand on his arm. ‘Really, Flynn. There’s no point you getting soaked too.’
He’d been so protective since the night she’d told him about Benedict Brayson and her father. She’d watched shock etch his face, his olive skin turning close to white.
Flynn, like everyone else, had only seen what her father had wanted them to: the perfect Cavendish family. The ugly truth had stunned him.
‘I’ll stay with you till your friend arrives.’
‘You’re due at a meeting in fifteen minutes.’
The meeting was supposedly the reason he’d driven to London, though Ava wondered if Flynn had invented the excuse rather than let her travel to the city alone. She shook her head, torn between exasperation and pleasure at his attentiveness.
This past fortnight she’d felt closer to Flynn than she had since Prague. He’d cut back on social engagements, he finished work at a reasonable time and they’d spent the weekend together.
On Sunday they’d tramped the estate, reviewing the refurbishment of the estate cottages—a particular priority with him. They’d shared a flask of coffee and spiced gingerbread at her favourite vantage point on the high ground near the woods, surveying the estate. And they’d ended the day in their big spa bath, sipping champagne, till the wine had been forgotten in the exquisite pleasure of Flynn’s loving.
A smile tugged Ava’s lips. At last her workaholic husband was realising there were more important things than commerce.
If she’d known her revelations would have such an effect she’d have shared them with him long ago.
‘What are you smiling at?’ He cupped her face.
Her heart flipped at his expression. Her smile softened into a pout as he rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, reminding her of how he’d kissed her when they’d got into the car at Frayne Hall. His lips had lingered, tasting, sipping, as if he couldn’t get enough, yet his eyes had gleamed not with desire but with tenderness.
Flynn might never say out loud that he loved her. But he proved it in other ways. With his body, his care and thoughtfulness.
‘I’m such a lucky woman.’ She leaned in, planting a kiss square on his lips.
Instantly he responded, drawing her close.
Finally she put her hands between them. ‘The car’s fogging up.’
One dark eyebrow rose rakishly. ‘You don’t really want lunch, do you?’ His eyes danced with ebony fire.
Ava’s body grew tight, her nipples pebbling and the low buzz of desire humming in her blood. She had to force herself to sit back.
‘You have a meeting, remember? And I—’ she darted a look at her watch ‘—don’t want to be late. I’ll see you later.’ She reached for the door.
‘I’ll collect you.’
Ava shook her head. ‘Sarah and I are shopping afterwards. I’ll meet you at the apartment.’
‘You’d rather shop than be with me?’ Flynn looked so taken aback she laughed.
‘Wait till you see what I buy.’ She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. ‘I think you’ll enjoy it.’
‘In that case, you have my permission to shop all afternoon.’ His hand grabbed her as she opened the door. ‘But be back by six. I have plans for this evening.’
Somewhere between her mouth and her chest her breath disintegrated, leaving her bereft of oxygen. The slumberous promise in Flynn’s eyes did that.
Tugging her hand free, she blew him a kiss and forced herself out into the gusty rain. She’d rather spend the afternoon making love with Flynn. But it had been too long since she’d seen her friend.
In a few hurried steps she was inside the restaurant, watching the Aston Martin pull into the traffic.
‘Ava! Over here.’
Sarah, her friend and one-time manager, waved from a booth. Ava smiled and threaded her way through the tables. She took off her jacket and slid into the seat opposite, beaming.
‘It’s so good to see you, Sarah. I’d hoped to catch up with you before I left.’
Sarah had been away at the time, and that had made the news of Ava’s retrenchment even harder to bear.
‘I’ve missed you too.’ Sarah put her elbows on the table, leaning forward. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard you’d resigned. You must be absolutely smitten with this man of yours.’ She grinned. ‘But marriage agrees with you. You look fabulous.’
Ava stilled in the act of looping her shoulder bag over the chair. ‘Who said I’d resigned?’
‘What do you mean? Everyone knows. We’ve had a hard time trying to replace you. You had such passion for the work.’ She shrugged. ‘But I understand you wanting time with your husband. I hear he’s gorgeous. And as for starting a family
...’ Her eyes dropped to Ava’s waist.
Ava stiffened. ‘We’re not. Starting a family.’
‘You’re not?’ Colour etched Sarah’s cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry. I thought...’ She shook her head. ‘Sometimes these things aren’t straightforward.’
‘No, I mean we don’t have plans for children yet. Maybe in a couple of years.’ She paused, seeing Sarah’s confusion. ‘Who told you I’d resigned?’
‘The CEO. He said he took the call.’
Ava sank back, her brain buzzing. ‘He took the call? But I didn’t call him!’
The first she’d known was being told by the HR manager that her job no longer existed.
‘Ah, that explains the confusion. He said he spoke to your husband.’ Sarah paused, her eyes widening. ‘He did ask me not to talk about it with the others, but I knew with you it wouldn’t matter.’ She leaned close. ‘I was sorry you decided to go. We made a good team. But on the plus side that huge donation your husband made when you left was a godsend.’
A chill prickled its way, vertebra by vertebra, down Ava’s spine. She swung her gaze around the restaurant, half expecting evidence that this was a dream, or a hoax set up for a reality TV show. But the room remained the same.
She spread her hands flat on the table and forced out the words that for some reason she didn’t want to speak. ‘What donation?’
Sarah snorted. ‘Oh, to have so much money you lose track!’
‘I’m serious, Sarah. What donation?’
Her friend stared, her smile dying as she finally seemed to register Ava’s expression.
Did she look as sick as she felt? Ava told herself it was a misunderstanding. But one thing she knew: Sarah was sharp as a tack. If there was a misunderstanding, it wasn’t hers.
‘The multi-million-pound donation your husband made personally and on the quiet. The CEO was impressed that he insisted on being a totally anonymous donor.’
Ava clutched the table, as if that would stop the room tilting. She hardly dared breathe. She felt one sudden move might shatter her and her sixth sense warned of impending disaster.
‘Are you sure?’ Her voice wasn’t her own, but then neither was her body. She felt curiously distanced from the conversation—as if she watched it from afar.