Invincible

by Joan Johnston

  “I’m sorry to hear you’ve refused Max,” Bella said. “I will, of course, be taking care of all your expenses, as I promised.”

  Kristin met her gaze and said, “I’ll pay you back. Every penny.”

  Bella had seen how Max looked at the mother of his child. And how desolate Kristin seemed at the thought of a life without Bella’s youngest son. Bella was more and more certain this woman belonged with Max. Her son had handled things badly. It hadn’t helped that he’d had that abrupt introduction to Felicity. She should have planned that better. “I presume you and Max have worked out some sort of visitation schedule.”

  “We didn’t get that far,” Kristin admitted.

  “Don’t you think that might be a good idea?”

  “I’m not sure I want Max visiting Flick.”

  “That doesn’t sound fair to Felicity,” Bella said, careful not to mention how very unfair it also seemed to her son. “Doesn’t she deserve a father?”

  “It would be worse if she had a father who only showed up half the time. Or never showed up at all.”

  Bella frowned. “You believe Max would be that kind of father?”

  “I’ve always thought so.”

  “Based on what, may I ask?” Bella said, indignant on her son’s behalf.

  “Based on how badly he treated me ten years ago.”

  Bella met Kristin’s troubled gaze and said, “I thought you said you were mistaken about Max’s behavior in the past. Doesn’t he deserve a chance to prove what kind of father he would be?”

  “Not if it means Flick gets hurt.”

  “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it appears you’re the one who fears getting hurt if Max stays a part of your life,” Bella said quietly.

  “So what if I am?” Kristin retorted. “No one wants to be hurt a second time by the same person.”

  “If you and Max have unfinished business, perhaps you should take advantage of the time you have together here in London to work it out,” Bella said.

  Kristin reached up to tuck a stray curl that had slipped from her ponytail back behind her ear. “Flick and I need to leave if we’re going to catch the next train back to London. I should go pack a bag for her.”

  “You know where her room is. If you don’t mind spending the night here at the Abbey, I can arrange a ride into London for you tomorrow morning so you can meet your father at the airport.”

  “I don’t want to spend any more time in Max’s company than I have to.”

  “Max is leaving.” She’d make sure he did, after she gave him a good talking-to. “I’d enjoy your company if you’d like to stay.”

  Kristin sighed. “I didn’t bring anything with me to wear. I don’t even have a toothbrush.”

  “That’s no problem,” Bella said. “Check with the housekeeper. Mrs. Tennyson can get you anything you need. And I’m sure Emily will have something you can wear.”

  “Thank you. It’s been a long day. I’d like to spend time with Flick.”

  “I’m so glad you’re staying,” Bella said. “Dinner is at seven.”

  “I think I’ll find Flick and let her know I’ll be here overnight,” Kristin said.

  Bella waited only until Kristin had left the room before she rose and headed across the hall, hoping Max hadn’t yet left the Abbey. She found him slumped in a comfortable overstuffed chair, his stocking feet up on a petit-pointed footstool. As she crossed to him, he clumsily rose and shoved his feet back into his tasseled leather shoes.

  “Mother. What brings you here?”

  “I just spoke with Kristin,” she said. “Sit down, Max. I’ll join you,” she said, settling on the less comfortable Victorian sofa across from him.

  He dropped back into the chair but kept his shoes on. His feet stayed on the floor. “Kristin doesn’t want anything to do with me,” he announced. “The three of us are still going horseback riding, but she wants me to stay away from Flick in the future.”

  “What did you say to that?” Bella asked.

  “I told her I knew what it felt like to want a parent who isn’t there,” Max said. “And I wasn’t about to do that to my daughter.”

  She wondered if Max knew how it pierced her heart to hear about his pain. He must know. It seemed the gloves had come off. She knew the example she and Bull had set for her children had left lasting scars. It seemed Max’s wounds were still seeping. It made her more determined than ever to do what she could to keep him from living unhappily ever after.

  She was convinced that Max cared for the mother of his child. She’d done her best to get Kristin here to England so the two of them could fall in love again. But her plan had been ill-considered.

  Or maybe not. Maybe she’d challenged the wrong person to make peace with the other.

  “Kristin told me you proposed,” Bella said. “And that she refused you.”

  “Being married makes the most sense,” he said. “It’s the most logical solution to the problem of how I can be a part of Flick’s life.”

  “Did you discuss whether it was going to be a real marriage?” Bella asked. “I mean, were you each going to be allowed to carry on your separate affairs—romantic affairs, that is—as usual?”

  He snorted. “I’ve had enough experience with what happens when one party isn’t faithful to the other to know fidelity is important in a marriage.”

  Another shot, right to the heart. She met his gaze and realized he was fully aware of the verbal slap he’d taken at her. And didn’t care if she was injured by it.

  No, that wasn’t precisely true. She saw a flush in his cheeks that revealed he wasn’t as nonchalant about his ruthless condemnation of her as he wanted her to believe. She didn’t have time to pretend anymore that she hadn’t caused damage to her children. Max had suffered, and he blamed her for it.

  All she could do now was try to make amends.

  The best way to do that was by giving Max the nudge he needed to woo Kristin. He’d fallen in love with her once before. As far as Bella had been able to determine, it was the first—and last—time he’d given his heart to a woman. It seemed he’d been hurt, or felt betrayed, as badly all those years ago as Kristin had. Bella could only hope it wasn’t too late for him to find his way back to loving her again.

  “Kristin told me the two of you discussed the misunderstanding that separated you.”

  He cocked his head, apparently surprised that she’d spoken to Kristin. Or perhaps that Kristin had been so frank with her.

  “We did.”

  “Do you still love her?”

  “Still?” he said. “Did I ever?”

  Bella ignored his attempt at denial and said, “If you want her, why don’t you go after her? Woo her. Pursue her. Convince her you’d make a good husband as well as a good father.”

  He scoffed. “Why should I?”

  “I’ve never known you to take no for an answer when no wasn’t the answer you wanted,” Bella persisted. “Do you want to be a part of your daughter’s life, or not? Because without Kristin’s approval, it’s going to be a nasty uphill battle.”

  “When you put it that way, wooing her makes sense,” Max mused. “But K’s no dummy. If I start making calf’s eyes at her now, she’s going to suspect my motives.”

  “So what if she does? Convince her you care. Convince her you’ll take care of her and Flick. That you want to be a father and a husband.”

  His lip curled in a sneer. “What makes you think I want to be a husband? That I’m willing to give my heart to any woman, let alone one who’s crushed it before?”

  Bella’s heart ached for her son. Her hands were trembling with fatigue. But she couldn’t rest until she’d convinced Max to give love one more try.

  “I’ve never spoken about the mistakes I made that caused your father to leave me,” she began.

  Max lurched to his feet. “I don’t want to know—”

  “I’m not going to do so now,” she continued over his interruption. She met his anxious gaze and said, “I th
ink it’s important for you to know that the happiest days of my life were the ones I spent loving Bull—and being loved by him. You don’t have to make the mistakes we made. You and Kristin can have a long, loving life together.”

  “Why are you so determined to see us together?” he demanded.

  “I only want to see you happy, Max.” Before I die.

  “I was a lot happier before I found out my daughter has lived the first nine years of her life without a father. Something you could have remedied, if you’d only taken the time to speak.”

  “I’ve told you why I made the choice I did. There’s no going back, Max. We can only move forward. Are you going to let Kristin take Flick and walk out of your life?”

  “When you put it that way, Mother, the answer seems obvious.” He glanced at his watch, then smirked. “Time to go. I have to pick up my girlfriend at Heathrow.”

  Bella sat where she was until after Max had left the room. She wondered if her arguments had held any sway at all with him. A girlfriend? Oh, yes, the reporter from the Times. Their relationship wasn’t serious. Yet. Kristin had arrived in England in the nick of time. She had the added enticement of being the mother of Max’s child.

  Bella was simply going to have to wait and see if Max picked up the gauntlet she’d thrown down.

  22

  Max was halfway back to London, fighting to see the road in the pouring rain, glad he was in his road-hugging Porsche, when he realized he hadn’t questioned his mother about her invitation to The Seasons. She’d distracted him with the suggestion he ought to pursue Kristin in earnest.

  He still couldn’t quite believe he’d offered to marry K. Once the words were out of his mouth, it had seemed like a brilliant solution to their problem. He’d been shocked when she refused him. And, if he were honest, a little insulted. Or perhaps mortified was a better description of how he was feeling. It was humbling to be rejected out of hand.

  With an arrogance that arose from being born into a wealthy and titled family, he’d believed any woman would consider herself lucky to get a catch like him. His wealth alone was a narcotic to most women, and thanks to two attractive parents, he’d been born with good looks. His mother had pointed out exactly how unthinking his proposal had been.

  Kristin had wanted more than an easy solution to a custody dilemma. She’d wanted love.

  He’d figured sex and fidelity and friendship, and the chance to be parents to Flick, would make a pretty good marriage. Love had never crossed his mind.

  I want to care for the man I marry. I want to love him and I want him to love me and my daughter.

  Loving Flick was no problem. Loving Kristin was another matter altogether. Max shook his head. Enduring love was a fairy tale. Ten years ago, he’d enjoyed one night of love before love had ended. Recently, his fairy tale had lasted an entire week. He snickered. At this rate, lifelong happiness was an unattainable dream.

  Max thought back to the night he and K had created their daughter. Who would have thought a child so precious—and precocious—could have come from that awkward encounter?

  He remembered lying beside K in the hotel room she’d booked in London while on the tour and thinking how beautiful her face was in the moonlight. He could still hear her voice in his ear, soft and hesitant, as she lay naked in his embrace for the first time.

  “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Max. And what you’re doing to me feels so good it hurts.”

  “Is this where it hurts?” he’d asked, brushing his knuckles across her breast near her heart. “Shall I kiss it better?” He’d leaned down and kissed the slope of her ivory breast, then turned his head to listen to her racing heartbeat. He’d felt so much love for her, he’d thought his chest might burst from the force of it.

  He didn’t know exactly when friendship had turned to love. He’d simply realized one day that the sex he had with other women was simply that—sex. The relationship he had with K was something special. She understood him. She liked him. She tolerated his moods. She made him feel good about himself. She listened to him and commiserated with him. She cared. She made him feel loved—and lovable, something he’d doubted all his life.

  He’d raised his head so he could look into her eyes and said, “I like you, too, Princess. A lot.” He’d meant to say love. But the word had stuck on his tongue. It was too scary to be that vulnerable. What if she didn’t love him back? After all, she hadn’t admitted to loving him, just to loving the time she spent with him.

  He’d kept his feelings close to his vest all his life. Which made it all the more difficult to speak of them when it meant the most. He only knew he wanted to hold her and love her. And be loved by her.

  He’d watched the tears well in her eyes as she smiled up at him and said, “Oh, Max. I’m so glad—”

  He’d kissed her because his throat had swollen closed and it was no longer possible to profess his love in words. He took possession of her mouth, sliding his tongue inside. He felt a surge of arousal when she returned the favor with enthusiasm.

  He twined two fistfuls of her long blond curls in his hands and arched her head back on the pillow so he could kiss her throat. Her hands roamed his back, tracing his shoulder blades, the crease down the center of his back, the rise of his buttocks, then returned to settle around his neck, playing in the hair at his nape.

  “Max,” she whispered, kissing his ear. “Max. I feel so much. It feels so good.”

  Her words, and the whispery kisses, created an inferno of desire, a fire that couldn’t be quenched with mere kisses or touches. He needed to be inside her. Couldn’t wait another moment to be inside her, to be joined with her as close as two souls could possibly be.

  He released her hair and rose to his knees. He caught her legs behind her thighs, spreading them wide around his own thighs as he yanked her farther down the bed toward him.

  “Max?”

  He heard the hesitation in her voice, but he was too focused on his great need to consider what it might mean. She offered no resistance as he slid his hands beneath her and lifted her. He was almost mindless with desire when he thrust himself inside her.

  Almost mindless. From a deep erotic well he heard her cry, “Max! I’m—” He cut off her protest with a deep kiss.

  Max checked the speedometer in his Porsche and saw it had sneaked up to a hundred and fifty-five. Even if he translated kilometers into miles, ninety-five was too fast. He brushed a hand across a forehead that was dotted with sweat from remembering what he’d done. Stupid, thoughtless teenage boy.

  In hindsight he knew Kristin had been nowhere near ready to be entered. At the time, he’d only been aware of her willingness. And her great desire to please him.

  And she had pleased him greatly. She’d been so tight. Once he was inside her, there had been blood to lubricate the way. His satisfaction had been immense. He’d heard her making noise, but he was too far gone—his eyes closed and his head thrown back—to identify the sounds.

  He’d quickly climaxed. Faster than he’d wanted. A brash kid who couldn’t control himself.

  Max focused on the narrow, curving road in front of him when what he wanted to do was close his eyes. He would give a great deal to erase the image that rose in his mind’s eye of K’s face when he’d looked down at her after he’d taken his pleasure.

  He would never forget the tear tracks that had stained her cheeks. Or the first sound she’d made. That whimper of pain had created a knot in his gut.

  Too late he’d been full of concern for her. But the damage had been done. He’d seen the blood on the sheets and frantically asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “I’ve never done this before,” she said, her eyes lowered in embarrassment. “You hurt me.”

  He’d been too chagrined to ask anything else. Too humiliated even to apologize. He’d just wanted to get away.

  He remembered rising from the bed and crossing into the bathroom. He’d grabbed a towel and wiped the blood off himself, the
n grabbed a towel for Kristin. He’d decided a warm washcloth was a good idea and remembered it had taken forever for the water to get hot.

  When he’d returned to the bedroom, she was sitting hunched over in bed with her knees pulled to her chest and the covers pulled up all the way up to her neck.

  He’d sat down beside her and met her shy gaze and said, “Let’s get you cleaned up, Princess.”

  She’d taken the warm washcloth from him and slid it under the covers. She’d closed her eyes and he’d seen the relief on her face as the warm cloth soothed the pain he’d caused. He’d handed her the towel next, and she’d slid that under the covers, too. He’d watched her lift her bottom and slide it under her. The washcloth never came back out, and he presumed she’d left it where it would do the most good.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he’d said, tucking handfuls of curls behind both her ears so he could see her face better. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know,” she said. “I should have warned you sooner that I hadn’t done this before.”

  “Yeah,” he mumbled. “About that…”

  “It’s all right, Max,” she said, reaching out a hand to touch his cheek. “I wanted you to be the first.”

  Max swiped at his blurry eyes and grabbed the wheel with both hands when the Porsche slid on the dirt at the side of the road. He’d never thought about birth control, because the girls he had sex with took care of that sort of thing. He’d only used condoms when the girl suggested it.

  The possibility that he’d gotten K pregnant had been no part of his thoughts when he’d put his hand over hers and said, “I’m sorry, Princess.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” she’d said. “I’m not.”

  He hadn’t believed her. The tears and the blood and the winces when she’d slid that washcloth under the sheet made a liar out of her. But he’d asked, “Really? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m sure. You should go. I need to get some sleep before my match tomorrow. Besides, my dad’s liable to check on me before he goes to bed. I don’t want him to find you here.”