by Jennie Lucas
Chapter Fifteen
“WE’RE still running tests, Mr. Novros, but we’re optimistic.”
Xerxes sagged in relief against the white concrete wall of the medical clinic. “Thank God.”
“We’ll keep you updated.” The doctor looked at him with concern. “But you should get some rest. Before we have to check you in here as well.”
“I’m fine.”
The doctor clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly. “Don’t worry. She’s young and strong. Her chances are excellent for a full recovery.”
After he’d left, Xerxes closed his eyes, feeling the fresh drizzle of rain on his face. His sister was safe. Laetitia was now receiving the best medical care possible. For the first time in a year, he did not have that driving fear inside him, the fear that he might fail her, the fear that she might die after he’d promised to always look out for her.
He should have been overcome with relief and joy. And yet he found himself still hunched over with grief. He looked up to see a blond woman coming out of the mist in the parking lot.
“Rose,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. Had she read the letter? Had she changed her mind?
Then he saw the blonde embrace another man, a male nurse who’d just come out of the clinic. Looking at her more closely, Xerxes realized the woman looked nothing like Rose. His vision was playing tricks on him.
She’d told him she loved him. And for his answer, he’d traded her. He’d given her into Växborg’s hands.
Had she read the letter yet? Would she keep her promise?
His hands clenched into fists as he rubbed his stinging eyes. All he wanted was to have Rose in his arms, to share his joy about his half sister’s prognosis. For Christ’s sake, to even tell her that Laetitia was his sister!
Instead, he’d made a promise he never wanted to keep. He was powerless to pursue her. And now he was a prisoner of his own word.
Maybe it was for the best, he told himself wearily. God knew Rose deserved better than a man like him. She deserved a husband with an open, loving heart, an equal partner who would share everything with her—not a closed-off, vengeful man with a scarred heart like Xerxes.
But I can change, his heart cried. I already have changed, because of her.
All he wanted was for her to be happy. And the last time he’d seen her, her face had been so wan and pale, her eyes so sad, as she’d driven past him in the Ferrari with Växborg at her side. The baron, on the other hand, had looked smug and satisfied.
And something more.
Xerxes blinked. What had been in the man’s eyes? He’d been too distracted by worry and grief to pay much attention to Växborg at the time, but now there’d been something in the man’s expression. He’d dismissed Växborg as a weakling. But even a weakling could be vicious when cornered.
Trying to tell himself he had nothing to worry about, Xerxes reached for his cell phone. His hands shook as he dialed the number of her parents’ house an hour to the south.
But when Vera answered on the third ring, she sounded bewildered at his questions. “Rose? No, we haven’t seen her. No, she hasn’t called. Why? What’s wrong? We thought she was with you!”
“I’ll explain later,” Xerxes replied, but when he hung up his whole body was cold with sweat.
Rose would not have willingly run off with Växborg. She detested the man’s lack of morals, his selfish cruelty. She would have wanted to go straight home to her family. She wouldn’t have detoured for a cozy chat with the baron.
At least not willingly.
Xerxes raked his black hair back with his hand. How could he have been so arrogant as to assume that Växborg was no threat, and he would meekly accept Rose’s refusal? How could he have believed the man would relinquish her—and her new fortune—without a fight?
The man’s weakness, his cowardice, were exactly what made him dangerous. And now Xerxes could do nothing to save her.
Sucking in his breath, he punched the concrete wall of the clinic, causing little pieces of rock to crumble and scatter. Blood oozed from his knuckles as he covered his face with his hands. He was helpless to find the woman he loved.
Or was he?
Slowly, he lowered his hands.
All his life, he’d considered his promise to be his worth as a man. But in this moment, he realized that there was something even more sacred than a man’s word.
His love.
It was honor beyond any promise: A man had to protect his woman.
He had to keep Rose safe.
Opening his cell phone, he dialed his chief bodyguard, his top private investigators, his connections in San Francisco, even the sheriff in Rose’s hometown. No car accidents had been reported. As he waited for news, Xerxes paced back and forth in the parking lot of the medical clinic. He no longer felt the cold drizzle of the rain against his face. His muscles ached to jump into his car and drive to find her. But where? Which direction should he go?
Lars wouldn’t take her to a motel. He wouldn’t take her anywhere she might be seen. And he no longer had the money to charter a plane.
Unless he married Rose. Xerxes had thought it was such a tidy way to get revenge on Lars, to use the man’s arrogance and greed against him, to get Laetitia to safety while allowing Rose to make her own choice about her life. He raked his hair back again. He’d been a fool!
The phone rang in his hands and he answered on the first ring. “Yes?”
“A red Ferrari was seen on the I-50, heading east,” the investigator told him. “No license plate information, but a car like that stands out.”
Heading east. Why east? There was nothing in that direction, nothing but the wild mountains and eventually Lake Tahoe, which in February would still be thick with snow and frozen rain. Why would anyone be insane enough to drive a low-slung race car in that direction? Where was the man going?
Then Xerxes knew.
Closing his phone with an intake of breath, he ran for his SUV.
“Get in there!”
Cursing, Lars shoved her into the old cabin before he slammed the door behind them. Rose backed away, still glaring at him, rubbing her half-frozen wrists that he’d bruised with his sinewy grip.
They’d walked for three hours in the frozen rain, up the snowy, rutted dirt road on foot after Lars’s Ferrari had slid on a patch of ice and blown a tire. Her black dress and thin black coat couldn’t hold up against these wintry conditions. Her black leather pumps were soaked through, her feet like ice, and she’d almost forgotten what it was like to be warm. She didn’t know if she would ever feel warm again.
But still, when Rose had seen the cabin in the clearing, she’d tried to run away. She’d turned blindly back toward the woods to take her chances in the frozen mountains. But Lars had had other ideas. Now, he blocked the door, locking it behind him.
“What is this place?” she choked out, huddling near the cold fireplace.
“Laetitia’s great-grandfather built it.” He looked around with a twist of scorn on his lip. “I left my wife here with an incompetent nurse right after her accident. I hoped I would return from San Francisco and find she’d joined her mother in the afterlife. No such luck. My wife—” he spat out the word “—still lived.”
Lars picked up a piece of the wood stacked neatly by the fireplace. “This is who their family really is,” he said. “Jumped-up nobodies. Peasants who earned money with their hands. Like Novros.”
Rose sucked in her breath. Xerxes’s name hit her like a blow. If only…
“He came here last year, hot on my heels,” he said coldly. “He very nearly found Laetitia. I barely had time to pull her into the woods with the nurse to hide. After he left, I started leaving false trails around the world, hiring look-alikes to distract him.”
She thought of all the anguished energy that Xerxes had spent trying to find his sister. “How could you be so cruel?” she demanded.
He shrugged. “It was easier to keep him on a hopeless wild-goose chase than risk mov
ing Laetitia away from here.” He added in a sullen voice, “I thought the car accident was fate finally rewarding me as I deserved. I never thought she would live for a whole year.”
Rose stared at him, her eyes wide, her hand covering her mouth as she whispered, “You’re truly a monster. You tried to kill your own wife!”
“No,” he bit out. “No one can say I tried to kill her. All I did was help fate. She should have died. I deserve her money more than she ever did. She married me. I earned it. I deserve it.” He looked at her. “Just as I deserve you.”
With an intake of breath at the hard hunger in his eyes, Rose took a step back.
Lars must have seen the fear in her expression, because he turned back to the fireplace in a posture of confidence. Leaning forward to open the flue, he placed a single log inside and lit a match. He pressed the flame up against the wood.
Without any tinder, the log wouldn’t light. All Lars succeeded in doing was burning his fingers as the flame burned down. As Rose watched, he lit four matches all to the same result, and with every failure his anger grew.
Finally, with a curse, he blew out the fifth match and tossed it to the floor. He glared at Rose, who was hiding her incredulous expression with her hands.
His scowl changed to a sensual, threatening smile.
“I’ll start the fire later,” he purred. “In the meantime—I’ll just warm myself with you.”
He lunged toward her. With a yelp, she tried to run away, but he was too fast for her. Grabbing her, he pushed her against the kitchen table.
She fought him with a scream. When she bit the hand he placed over her mouth, he roughly turned her over on her belly.
“This will only hurt at first,” he said, panting. “Then you will realize you love it.”
“No!” she screamed, thrashing.
“Stop fighting!” he yelled. Brutally, he grabbed her by her hair then banged her head against the hard wooden table. She went limp, dazed as she saw stars.
“Once you’re pregnant with my child,” he panted, “you will accept me as your husband.” Unzipping his fly, he started to lift up her dress. “You will—”
His voice ended with a choke as he dropped her.
Weakly, Rose turned around against the table and she saw a miracle: Xerxes had him by the throat.
“You like to hurt women you claim to love,” Xerxes said in cold, deadly fury. “You deserve to die.”
“No, please,” Lars cried. “No—”
Mercilessly, Xerxes punched him in the face, knocking him to the rough wooden floor. Lars dropped like a stone.
“Xerxes,” Rose whimpered.
With an intake of breath, Xerxes went to her, gathering her up tenderly in his arms.
“Rose, oh, Rose,” he breathed, holding her. “Oh, my darling. Did he hurt you? My God, tell me I was in time!”
“He didn’t hurt me. You came,” she whispered, touching his face in wonder. “Oh, Xerxes, somehow you came.”
“Rose, I have to tell you something. I…”
Lars got up behind them, then with a last shouted curse he stumbled for the door. Flinging it open, he ran out of the cabin, heading for the snowy forest.
Xerxes started to chase him, but Rose grabbed his hand.
“No, please,” she whispered. Her cold fingers curled around his. “Please stay with me.”
“Yes.” He instantly turned back to her. “You’re so cold,” he murmured in a worried voice. He pulled her back against his chest, wrapping his coat around her. “I have to get you warm.”
Rose looked up at him. Cold? She wasn’t cold any longer. Dawning joy was slowly thawing her heart from within. “You broke your promise,” she said in shock. “You came for me.”
“I came.” He drew back, looking down at her with troubled dark eyes. “Forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” She laughed even as tears streaked down her face. “For saving my life? All right. Just this time, I will.”
But his eyes were serious. “I always prided myself on keeping my word above all else. But today I realized honor means nothing without love. Without you.”
Xerxes gently stroked her face, tilting her chin upward.
“I love you, Rose,” he said in a low voice, searching her eyes intently. “Tell me it’s not too late. Tell me I have a chance to win you back. I love you. I love you so much.”
Her heart ached at the words she’d waited a lifetime to hear, from the man she’d waited a lifetime to find. The strong, honorable, noble man she could love for the rest of her life.
Reaching her hand up against his rough cheek, she felt warmth and joy overwhelming her heart. “I never stopped loving you,” she whispered. “I will love you forever.”
Looking down at her, his black eyes were suspiciously wet. “Marry me, Rose.”
In answer, she nodded as tears streaked her face.
He sucked in his breath. As he lowered his mouth to hers, he whispered, “You are my family. My wife. My love. You…you are my promise.”
Two months later, Rose stepped out of the white clapboard chapel into the spring sunshine, still gripping her new husband’s hand.
“It stopped raining,” Xerxes said in amazement, looking up at the fluffy clouds in the blue sky. “Is that the sun?”
Was he implying that his new home in northern California wasn’t exactly the sunniest place in the world? She grinned at him, her heart full of love. “I wouldn’t know. Every day seems sunny to me,” she said over the lump in her throat, “as long as I’m with you.”
His dark eyes caressed her. Lifting her left hand to his lips, he gently kissed her fingers, and her simple gold wedding ring.
Family and friends followed them outside, cheering and throwing flower petals as Rose and Xerxes headed for the car waiting to take them to the airport. They had no time to attend their own wedding reception; they barely had time for their honeymoon. Resting her hand on his arm, Rose looked at her incredibly handsome husband with a sigh of regret. “I’m sorry we only have two days to spend in Mexico.”
He grinned at her. “We’ll make it count.”
“And missing our reception—”
“Rose.” He put his hand over hers. “A wedding is just a single day. We have the rest of our lives to celebrate our love together.”
She looked up at him gratefully. “I promise once Linden Candy is off the ground,” she vowed, “I’ll take you somewhere romantic for a full month.”
“My wife, the business tycoon,” he teased. “I can see I’m going to have to step it up just to keep up with you.”
In the last two months, she’d rebuilt and refurbished the old factory, installing brand-new equipment. She’d hired back most of the old crew, except for one former CEO who’d flatly refused.
“I’ll only be available for meetings on the golf course, sweetie,” her father had said with a laugh, then he’d put his hand on her shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Rose. This is what you’ve worked for.”
She intended to get national distribution of their signature nostalgic taffies, but she also wanted to create new candy bars for a more modern palate. She grinned. She could hardly wait to get started on candy research and development. But then, she’d been craving sweets even more than usual lately.
In front of the vintage 1930s Ford decked in flowers, Xerxes pulled her into his arms. By the look in his eyes, they would barely have time to reach the airport before the honeymoon started.
With the whole town watching, he lowered his mouth to hers, searing her body with his rough embrace, until she was surprised the ladylike vintage wedding dress she’d borrowed from her mother didn’t burst into flame.
“Get a room!” her youngest brother yelled.
“Let them enjoy themselves,” one of her sisters hissed. “A honeymoon only happens once in a lifetime!”
A new voice chimed in, “Yeah, get a room!”
Blushing bashfully, Rose pulled away. She smiled at Laetitia, Xerxes’s nineteen-year-old sister,
who was watching them and laughing from her wheelchair. Laetitia was in physical therapy, growing stronger every day. Just last week she’d managed to take her first steps. The doctors expected a full recovery.
Lars Växborg, however, hadn’t been so lucky. He’d apparently lost his way in the snowy wilderness near Lake Tahoe, and hadn’t been found again—until spring thaw. Rose felt bad for him. Almost.
“Throw the bouquet!” one of her old friends from high school called. “Throw it this way, Rosie!”
Turning away, Rose tossed the bouquet recklessly behind her. Whirling back around, she was shocked to see who’d caught it, but not nearly as shocked as her youngest brother Tom, a football player, who must have grabbed it by pure instinct. He stared down at the bouquet of pink roses in horror.
Rose laughed until she cried. As her new husband led her toward the limousine, she said wistfully, “I wish we could stay for the reception.”
“I wish we were already at our honeymoon,” Xerxes growled in reply. “I want to see you in that bikini.”
“I don’t know about a bikini,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “I’ve gained ten pounds since our last time in Mexico.”
“In all the right places.” As she smacked his shoulder in mock rage, he pulled back to thoroughly look at her. “I can’t get enough of you,” he murmured, and he kissed her again. When he pulled away, he gasped, “Forget the beach. We’ll just get margaritas delivered to our room.”
She took a deep breath. “I can’t.”
“Champagne, then.”
“I can’t do that, either.” With a mischievous smile, she stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I’m pregnant.”
Jerking back, he stared down at her in shock. “You’re—what?”
“You’re going to be a father,” she said happily.
He gaped at her, unable to speak.
