Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

  She stood up and placed her cup in the dishwasher before turning to him. ‘I think it would be best if I leave now.’

  He moved closer to her, his hands landing on his hips. ‘Oh, come on, Aideen. There’s no need for this. Stay. I don’t want you to go. Why can’t we just enjoy each other’s company for a while?’

  ‘I’m not up for a casual relationship, Patrick.’

  He looked at her in exasperation. ‘Fine. I’ll respect that. Nothing needs to happen between us again. You don’t even have a home to go to. The cottage isn’t ready.’

  ‘I’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Stay at Ashbrooke.’

  ‘You’re not getting it, are you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The sheer overwhelming impact of standing so close to his powerful, addictive frame but being so adrift from him emotionally had her blurting out, ‘I can’t stay in Ashbrooke. I can’t be around you, Patrick.’

  Heat fired through her body. Her cheeks were red-hot and tears burnt at the back of her eyes. She had said too much already, but she couldn’t hold back the truth. The weight of it was physically hurting her chest.

  ‘For the simple reason that I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  * * *

  Without meaning to do so he stepped back from her.

  This was all going wrong.

  She wasn’t supposed to be telling him she loved him.

  He didn’t know what to say.

  And in that moment he regretted ever opening up to Aideen. He should have kept his distance. He shouldn’t have let her in. Look at what had happened as a result. He’d said he didn’t want to hurt her. Judging by the pained expression on her face, he had done exactly that.

  ‘I never wanted to hurt you.’

  She gave a little laugh. ‘I’m sure I’ll get over it.’ She paused and then stood up a little straighter, looked him in the eye. ‘It was never going to work anyway. I always knew that. We are from different worlds. I don’t belong in this world of wealth. I want a relationship of equals—one where I bring the same as the other person. That was never going to be the case with us.’

  Though she looked as though she might crumble, she gave him a wobbly smile, her eyes brimming with tears again.

  With a light shrug she added, ‘This was never going to be anything more than a brief interlude of happy madness. And even though I can barely breathe right now, knowing it’s over, in my heart I know I will always cherish these weeks together. I’m glad I met you. And a part of me will always love you.’

  Pain and shock had him sitting there and watching her walk away. He couldn’t take it in, process all that she had said.

  Both of them were agreeing that being together wouldn’t work.

  But if that was the case why did it feel as though he was being torn apart?

  * * *

  Less than ten minutes later he was still trying to process all that had happened when she reappeared in the kitchen, her suitcase beside her.

  ‘I’ve booked a flight back to Ireland. When you return to Ashbrooke can you bring my files and paperwork from the orangery? I haven’t had time to pack them. Perhaps you can ask one of your staff to do so?’

  ‘I’ll ask William to drop them off at the cottage.’

  Part of him wanted to plead with her to stay. But this was for the best. Everything had spiralled out of control. He couldn’t give Aideen the type of relationship she needed and deserved.

  ‘I’ll organise for my plane to take you.’

  ‘No! Absolutely not.’

  He was about to fight her, but then he realised why she would feel the need to pay for her own transport home.

  With a resigned shrug of acceptance he said, ‘I’ll drop you to the airport.’

  ‘I’ve already asked Bernard to take me.’

  Fury shot through him and he said abruptly, ‘No. I’m taking you.’

  He had hurt her and let her down. The least he could do was see her safely to the airport. Say goodbye somewhere other than in the house where they had made love.

  She looked away for a few seconds, and when she spoke again, he was taken aback by the pain in her voice.

  ‘No. Bernard is taking me.’ Tears shone in her eyes. ‘I just want to go.’

  ‘Aideen...’

  Angry eyes flicked to his, and her voice was raw with emotion. ‘I don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this. I can see that deep down you want me to go.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Yes, it is. You fled from our bed this morning. You’re distancing yourself from me—burying yourself in work. Admit it, Patrick, you’re pushing me away. Like you push everyone away.’

  ‘I have never pretended that my work doesn’t come first. It has to.’

  ‘Oh, please... No, it doesn’t. You just want it that way. At least admit that much to yourself.’ She stopped and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she reopened them they were filled with pain. ‘Bernard will drive me to the airport.’

  ‘I want to—’

  She cut across him. ‘Please don’t make this any harder for me. I’m humiliated enough.’

  He reached for her. Anger at his own bungling of this situation had him saying sharply, ‘You have no reason to feel humiliated. I should never have suggested you come to Paris. This was all a mistake on my part. I’m sorry that I hurt you. That you have these feelings for me. But I can’t reciprocate them. Not with you. Not with anyone. I don’t deserve your love, Aideen. Please remember that.’

  She yanked her arm free and strode away from him.

  He followed her out to the front steps, but she was already getting into the waiting car. Not once did she look back towards him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CYCLING HOME FROM MOONCOYNE, her front basket sparsely filled with the few food items she had forced herself to buy at the weekly farmers’ market in the hope that they might kick-start her appetite again, Aideen heard the low cooing of a wood pigeon. Something about its regular familiar call reassured her. It told her that the world went on spinning even though it felt as though hers had ground to a halt.

  Spring was in full bloom. The trees that lined the road were no longer stark grey-brown statues, reaching up to the sky, but lush green flowing bodies of movement and life. Waves of white cow parsley littered the hedgerows on either side of her, yellow buttercup flowers popping through at intervals.

  Everything was changing.

  It had been a week since she had returned from Paris. She had moved back into Fuchsia Cottage immediately, not caring about the dust or the noise as the builders carried out the renovations. It wasn’t as if she was getting a lot of work done anyway. Thankfully their work was due to be completed by the end of next week. Hopefully then she would be able to give her work one hundred per cent of her concentration.

  She had neither seen nor heard from Patrick since she’d returned. A part of her had hoped he might contact her. See how she was doing. Which was pretty crazy, really. He was probably just relieved to move on from what had been a disastrous scenario from his point of view.

  He had visibly paled when she’d said she loved him. The panic in his eyes had told her everything she needed to know. Even now her cheeks glowed bright red at that memory.

  In her first days at home she had wondered if she had made the worst decision of her life, becoming so involved, so intimate with him. In those long days and sleepless nights she had lived with numbing pain and an overwhelming sense of loss. And the haunting question as to whether her judgement had been all wrong once again.

  But in the days that had followed, as her initial shock and gruelling pain had subsided a little, she’d found a clarity of thinking that had evaded her all the time she was with him.

  She had been so overpowered, intrigued, in love with him, that when they’d been together she hadn’t been able to think straight, think objectively.

  Being with him had been like being awash with emotions that left no room
for perspective. A perspective that now told her that it could never have lasted. He had said from the outset that he didn’t want to be in a relationship. And she knew only too well that they were from different worlds. But when she had been with him all she had known was desire, longing, excitement, happiness. An itch to bury herself into his very soul, to know him better than she even knew herself.

  Now that she was away from him, those emotions had lessened and she had finally got that perspective. Though her heart was physically sore, though she could barely eat or sleep, and though she sometimes thought she was going mad with her frustration, her wanting to be near him again, she didn’t regret anything.

  How could she when she had experienced such intense love and passion for another person?

  Yes, she had wanted it to be for ever. She hadn’t wanted it to end. But better that than never to have experienced it at all. How incredibly sad it would be to live a life never knowing such love existed.

  In her heart she knew he had loved her in his own way. She had seen it shining in his eyes when they had made love. In the things he had whispered to her. But he hadn’t loved her enough. And that was a fact she would have to learn to live with.

  Now she had to start focusing on her work again. And hope that with time the pain would subside.

  She neared the junction for the turning down to the road that led to her cottage and her pulse speeded up as she passed the wide entrance to his estate. But then she brought her bike to a sudden wobbly stop.

  She dismounted, turned, and stared back at the board that had appeared on the wall. A sales board, to be precise, for a prestigious Dublin firm of auctioneers. And written on it, in giant capital letters, were the words FOR SALE: Historic House and Thousand-Acre Estate.

  He was selling Ashbrooke!

  What was he thinking?

  She knew how much he loved this estate. Was he so desperate to put distance between himself and her?

  She wheeled her bike over to the imposing twenty-foot wrought-iron double gates. For a minute she considered the intercom. Should she just leave it? It was none of her business, after all. But she could not shake off the feeling that he was selling for all the wrong reasons.

  She pressed down on the buzzer and jumped when it was quickly answered. She instantly recognised his housekeeper’s voice.

  ‘Hi, Maureen, it’s Aideen Ryan. I want to have a word with Patrick.’

  ‘Aideen? Of course—come on in. I’ll give Patrick a call to let him know you’re here.’

  The gates opened slowly and Aideen drew in a deep breath before she jumped back on her bike and started to cycle up the drive.

  When she caught her first glimpse of the house, in all its magnificent grandeur, her chest tightened with a heaviness that barely allowed her to breathe. How could he walk away from this house which meant so much to him? She tried to imagine someone else living here but it seemed impossible.

  The sound of fast-approaching horse’s hooves on the drive behind her had her wobbling on her bike once again, and she came to an ungraceful stop when she hit the grass verge.

  She twisted around to see Patrick, heading in her direction riding a horse. He was a natural horseman, confident and assured. Totally in control. And heartbreakingly gorgeous.

  He pulled the horse to a stop a few feet away.

  Heat and desire instantly coiled between them. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest as his eyes held her captive.

  Memory snapshots of him making love to her had her almost crying out in pain, and she gripped the handlebars of the bike tighter against the tremble in her legs.

  He dismounted and led his horse towards her. He was wearing a loose blue shirt over his jodhpurs. His eyes matched the blue of the sky behind him, but gave nothing away as to what he was thinking.

  ‘Maureen rang to say you wanted to speak to me.’

  No, How are you? How have you been? Instead this bleak, unwelcoming comment. It made her feel as though all the closeness and warmth they had once shared had been nothing but a mirage.

  She couldn’t show him how upset she felt, so she took a deep breath and tried to control her voice. ‘I saw the for-sale sign.’

  He frowned slightly and shrugged. ‘And?’

  ‘Why are you selling?’

  ‘I listened to what you said. You’re right. I am isolated here in Ashbrooke.’

  She didn’t understand. Bewildered, she asked, ‘Where are you going to go?’

  ‘Wherever my work takes me. I have property throughout the world. I’ll move around as necessary.’

  ‘But you love Ashbrooke, Patrick. I know you do. You love this house and this land as though you were born into it.’

  His mouth twisted unhappily and he fixed her with a lancing glare. ‘I thought you would be pleased. It was you who put the idea in my head.’

  ‘No. My point was that you deliberately choose houses that enable you to be isolated. But you can be isolated in the middle of Manhattan if you really want to. I didn’t mean for you to sell Ashbrooke. This is crazy.’

  ‘I need to move on. It’s nothing more complicated than that.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Are you sure our relationship hasn’t anything to do with it? Are you worried I might still hope something can happen between us? Because if that’s the case, please believe me—I have absolutely no expectations. I know it’s over. And I accept it’s for the best. Never the twain shall meet, after all.’

  He shook his head angrily and uttered a low curse. In that moment he looked exhausted. ‘Aideen, I wish I could explain...but I can’t.’

  What did he mean? For a moment she considered him, wanting to ask what there was to explain. It was all pretty simple, after all. He didn’t love her. End of story.

  ‘Please reconsider selling Ashbrooke. Moving from here won’t change anything. Selling a house won’t stop you being isolated. You need to open your heart to others. My fear is that you won’t, and you’ll be alone for the rest of your life. And you deserve more than that.’

  He threw her a furious look. ‘Do I really, though? I hurt Orla. I hurt you. Why on earth are you saying that I deserve more?’

  ‘Because you’re a good man, Patrick.’

  His hands tightened on the reins. ‘And you’re too kind-hearted and generous.’

  She lifted her chin and glared at him. ‘Don’t patronise me. I know what I’m talking about. And maybe you should listen to your own advice sometimes. You told me once that I should believe in myself. Well, maybe you should do the same.’

  His jaw clenched. ‘I can’t give you what you need, Aideen.’

  ‘This isn’t about me. Trust me—I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t seen the for-sale sign. I want nothing from you. But I’m not going to let you make the mistake of selling the house you love because for once you actually allowed someone into your life.’

  His eyes were sharp, angry shards of blue ice. ‘That has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Are you sure? Because I’m not convinced. Are you going to reconnect with Orla and your friends once you leave Ashbrooke? What changes are you going to make to your life?’

  His mouth thinned and he threw her a blistering look. ‘Frankly, that’s none of your business.’

  She gave a tight laugh of shock and took a step back. Her heart went into a freefall of despondency. ‘Wow, you really know how to put a person in her place.’ Her throat was tight, but she forced herself to speak. ‘And it is my business because I care for you. I don’t want to see you shutting more and more people out of your life. You deserve to be happy in life, Patrick. Remember that.’

  There was nothing else she could say. She turned and picked up her bike. At the same time his phone rang.

  He gave another low curse and muttered, ‘This number has been calling me non-stop all morning.’

  As she pushed away she heard him answer it.

  She pedalled furiously.

  Seeing him again had brought home just how much she missed him. Would she eve
r meet another man to whom she was so physically attracted? Just from standing close to him her body was on fire. And her heart felt as though it was in pieces. Because emotionally she missed him twice as much. She wanted him in her life. It was against all logic and reason. But there it was. She wanted his intelligence, his kindness, his strength.

  The sound of his voice calling her and the thundering of hooves had her looking around, startled. Patrick was racing towards her. He yanked his horse to a stop, but didn’t dismount. He looked aghast.

  ‘That was a hospital in Dublin calling. Orla has gone into early labour.’

  For a moment she wondered why he was telling her, but then she saw the fear in his eyes. He didn’t know what to do.

  She dropped her bike down on the grass verge. ‘Are you going to go to Dublin to be with her?’

  He looked pale and drawn. For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her question. But then he looked down at her beseechingly. ‘I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to cause her any upset.’

  ‘Did she tell the hospital to call you and ask you to come?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, then, she needs you.’ For a moment she looked at the horse warily, and then she held out her hand to Patrick. ‘Pull me up. We need to get back to the house quickly. While you get changed I’ll organise for your helicopter to come and collect you.’

  He looked at her, taken aback, but then nodded his agreement. ‘Put your leg in the stirrup and I’ll pull you up.’

  He drew her up and sat her in front of him. It was her first time on a horse, and it looked like a long, long way down, but she couldn’t think of that. Instead she tried to think of the practical arrangements that needed to be sorted out in order to get Patrick to Dublin immediately. She tried to ignore how good it felt to be so physically close to him again.

  At the stables, a groom helped her dismount. When Patrick jumped off he hesitated, so she held his hand in hers and tugged him forward. ‘Come on—there’s no time to waste.’

  They entered the kitchen via the cloakroom. ‘Is the number for your pilot stored on your phone?’