He was silent so long she thought he wasn’t going to reply, and then his shoulders rose and fell and he said quietly, ‘They were perfect.’
Her heart was suddenly pounding. It was an odd word to use, but it was the way he said it—so wearily, so unhappily—that made her feel as though she were breaking in two.
Her eyes fixed on the photograph.
‘You look a lot like your mother,’ she said carefully. ‘But your eyes are just like your father’s.’
Laszlo watched her glance anxiously from the photo back to him. ‘At least I inherited something from them.’
He hadn’t meant his remark to sound so sharp, and his neck tensed as she turned to look at him.
‘What does that mean?’
Instead of answering he gave a casual shrug and leant forward, intending to kiss her. Kiss away his pain and confusion.
But, stepping backwards, she stared at him confusedly. ‘I want to help—’
‘I don’t want your help!’
He spoke quickly—too quickly—and she lifted her head, her eyes suddenly darker than steel, her voice glacier-cold. ‘But you do want to have sex with me?’
As he met her gaze, he felt relief, for her anger was so much easier to respond to than her concern. ‘I don’t see a connection.’
‘I want you to stop pushing me away.’
‘I don’t push you away. I can barely keep my hands off you.’
‘I’m not talking about that. That’s just sex.’
She looked away. There was a pulsing silence. A muscle flickered in his jaw and he groped for something to take the pain from her eyes. And from his heart.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t want to.’ His face was suddenly stiff with tension. ‘I’m not trying to push you away—’ Prudence stared at him anxiously. She could almost feel the weight of misery in his heart.
‘But you are pushing something away. Or someone...?’
It was conjecture—nothing more than a feeling—but his face tightened.
‘Is it your mum and dad?’
He looked almost dazed, and then his eyes seemed to scramble away from hers. There was a silence, and then he said quietly, ‘I let them down. And not just them. My grandparents too.’
‘I don’t understand...’ she said slowly. And then suddenly—incredibly—she did. ‘Are you talking about our marriage?’
Even as he nodded, she was shaking her head.
‘No. Laszlo. That doesn’t make sense. None of them knew about our marriage. So how could you have let them down?’
His face quivered. ‘You’re right. You don’t understand.’ He frowned. ‘Even now people in my family talk about my parents. They were so perfect together. And they made everything look so effortless. Marriage. Love. Life.’
He grimaced. Even the difference in their backgrounds had been no obstacle to their happiness; instead their passionate belief in each other had simply blurred the lines between the Romany and non-Romany world.
‘And you wanted to be like them.’ It was a statement not a question.
After a brief hesitation he let out a breath and nodded. ‘I wanted what they had. That passion—that rightness.’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘I think, actually, it’d be more accurate to say that, as their son, I expected it. As my right. And I thought I had it.’
‘Why?’ she whispered.
And she was suddenly more grateful than she’d ever been that it was his turn to speak, for she couldn’t have opened her mouth again without crying.
‘I met you.’ He smiled again, but this time his smile seemed to illuminate his whole face. ‘And I was desperate—no, determined not to lose you. We married and everything was perfect. At first.’
She stared at him, feeling a spasm of nausea. ‘And then I ruined it?’
Abruptly he grabbed her arms and shook her, his face tightening with anger. ‘No. You didn’t ruin it. You were just young and nervous and inexperienced.’
She struggled against him, words tumbling haphazardly from her lips. ‘You were young too.’
‘Spoilt and arrogant is what I was! I was used to getting what I wanted,’ he said harshly. ‘And what I wanted was for you to make our marriage work—because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. I just assumed everything would fall into place.’ His eyes fixed on her face. ‘I was wrong.’
‘We were both wrong!’ she raged back at him.
His hands dropped to his sides and he let out a ragged breath. ‘I thought it’d be easy.’
He frowned, remembering how inadequate he’d felt. How lonely too—for he’d been too proud to admit his problems to anyone.
‘Only it wasn’t. And when it got hard I blamed you. I pushed you away,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m the one that ruined everything, pireni! I hurt you and I lied to you, and because of my arrogance and stubborn pride I let you go when I should have done everything in my power to make you stay. And then I had to lie to both my families. All my grandmother wanted was to see me happily married before she died, and I messed that up too.’
His voice cracked and he lowered his head.
‘I never meant to hurt you, Prudence. You have to believe me. I just wanted it to be perfect.’
Feeling tears prick the backs of her eyes, Prudence shook her head. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And I don’t blame you for what happened.’
Her throat tightened. It was no wonder he’d reacted so badly when their marriage had seemed to falter.
Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it. ‘You know this morning, when you said we’re more alike than we thought? You were right. Our parents’ marriages influenced us way too much.’ She laughed weakly. ‘I actually think it was some kind of miracle that we even got together in the first place.’
Gripping his hand, she dragged him across the room.
‘Listen to me, Laszlo!’ She picked up the photo, brandishing it like a weapon. ‘I’ve spent years looking at photos, paintings and sketches. And it’s true what they say: every picture does tell a story. And this is their story. Not yours.’
She put the frame down carefully.
‘I don’t have a photo of you, but if I did it would tell me your story. The story of a young man who made some mistakes but who is loyal and devoted to his family and who has learned to forgive and trust.’ Her eyes flared. ‘You haven’t let anyone down. Your parents’ marriage may have looked easy from the outside, but you only knew them as a child. And I’m sorry that your grandmother didn’t know about our marriage, but you made her very happy, Laszlo. And you took care of her—just like you’re taking care of Janos now.’
He caught hold of her arm and pulled her tightly into his arms, burying his face in her hair. ‘I don’t deserve you,’ he murmured.
For a long, long time, he just held her, his warm breath on her neck. Then at last, he sighed.
‘Talking is so tiring. How do women do so much of it?’
She pulled back slightly and smiled up at him. ‘We are the stronger sex,’ she said quietly.
He nodded, his face serious. ‘Stronger. Wiser. You’re probably the wisest woman I’ve ever met, Prudence Elliot. The most beautiful. Most compassionate. Most forgiving.’ He sighed again.
‘If only I could make a proper Hungarian goulash I’d be perfect,’ she said shakily.
He smiled weakly. ‘I’ve had enough of perfection. I’m happy with what I’ve got.’
Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth against his. ‘Me too!’
He kissed her back fiercely and then, groaning, broke away from her. ‘You know, all that talk about goulash has made me think about food again. How about we go downstairs and show Rosa where she’s been going wrong all these years?’
* * *
Later, lying with Prudence curled against his body, Laszlo felt strangely calm. He’d told her everything, and she’d listened while he talked. Not once had she judged him. Instead she’d given him the courage to face his fear. A fear that had chafed at him for so long and corroded his relat
ionship with the only woman he’d ever loved.
Closing his eyes, he felt his heart contract almost painfully.
The woman he still loved. His wife.
His hand tightened around her body and he was suddenly close to tears, for he had so nearly lost her again. And then he almost laughed out loud as he remembered their teasing conversation of earlier. For he was the one who was trapped in the tower, and she had rescued him.
Abruptly, he felt his chest grow tight. And then, like a balloon popping, his happiness burst. His relationship with Prudence would soon be over and all his thoughts of love and marriage were just speculation and hope. At no time had Prudence even hinted that she wanted to give their relationship another chance.
He frowned. Come to that matter, he hadn’t either.
In fact, he’d made it pretty clear that their relationship was nothing more than a cathartic fling that would terminate at the same time as her period of employment at the castle.
Opening his eyes, he stared bitterly at the photograph of his parents. He needed to show Prudence he’d changed. Words wouldn’t be enough this time. But, having convinced her that all he wanted was a loveless affair, how was he going to persuade her that he wanted to give their marriage another chance?
CHAPTER TEN
‘ARE YOU READY?’
Laszlo’s voice drifted up the stairs, causing Prudence to glance in dismay at the discarded clothes strewn across her bed. So far she was wearing only her underwear and her shoes.
‘Nearly!’ she called out quickly.
‘Nearly? How is that possible? You’ve been up there for hours...’ His voice trailed off as he stepped through the doorway. ‘Nice dress,’ he said slowly. ‘Where’s the rest of it?’
She glared at him. ‘This isn’t the dress. It goes underneath.’
His eyes slid over the sheath of satin.
‘And what goes underneath that?’ he murmured softly.
‘Nothing. That’s the point.’
He grinned. ‘It’s a very good point. Very convincing, in fact.’ He walked across the room and kissed the corner of her mouth. ‘Although if you took it off I think your point might be clearer still.’ He pulled her towards him and kissed the soft hollow at the base of her neck.
She looked into his eyes and gave him a teasing smile. ‘Really? You don’t think it might be a little risqué for the party?’
She squirmed against him and he looked down at her, his gaze darkening.
‘Hell, yeah! I’m the only person who gets to see you naked,’ he growled, lowering his mouth onto hers and kissing her fiercely.
Head spinning, Prudence clung to him, feeling heat—scorching, dizzying heat—wash over her. Just as she thought her legs would give way, she heard him swear softly under his breath.
Groaning, he broke the kiss and released her. ‘I can’t believe we have to go to this damn party. I’ve already spent all day with my family.’
He stopped and stared incredulously at the pile of clothes on the bed.
‘You’re not going to say you don’t have anything to wear, are you?’ he said slowly.
‘No. Yes. I don’t know... It depends.’
He frowned. ‘On what? What about the dress you chose in Budapest?’
She bit her lip. ‘I did get a dress. Only now I’m not sure if it’s more of an evening one than party.’
Laszlo winced. ‘Can’t it be both? We are going to an evening party, after all.’ His eyes lit up hopefully. ‘If you’re really worried then maybe we should just stay here?’
Smiling, she shook her head. ‘Nice try! But we’re not bailing. What would your family think?’ She frowned. ‘I don’t know why you don’t want to go anyway.’
Throwing himself down onto the bed, he pushed the dresses to one side and pulled a pillow behind his head. ‘Because I want to stay here,’ he said sulkily. ‘And, as it’s taken you nearly two hours not to get ready, I think the party will probably be ending by the time you’re dressed.’
Laughing, Prudence picked up a scarf from the back of a chair and threw it at him. ‘It’s easy for men!’ she said, reaching round and sweeping her long blonde hair into a loose topknot. ‘They just put on a suit!’ Glancing at him, she felt her smile fade and gave a small cry of exasperation. ‘Only you’re not!’
Winding the scarf around his neck, he looked up at her calmly. ‘Not what?’
‘Wearing a suit!’
Looking down at his jeans and shirt, Laszlo frowned. ‘What’s wrong with this?’
She glowered at him crossly. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you? Laszlo! I thought you said everyone was dressing up?’
He shrugged. ‘They are. And I have dressed up; this is the shirt I bought yesterday. Anyway, it’s my party—I can wear what I like.’ Reaching out, he grabbed her hand and pulled her next to him on the bed. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said gently.
‘I don’t want to let you down in front of your family.’
‘How could you ever let me down? If it hadn’t been for you I might never have gone through with being Pavel’s godfather.’ He pressed her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. ‘Besides, you’d look beautiful wearing that rug.’ He glanced at the riotously patterned Afghan carpet on the floor and grimaced.
Stroking his hair off his forehead, she smiled weakly. ‘They won’t be looking at me anyway. You’re the godfather, remember?’ Her eyes grew soft and misty. ‘The very handsome, very serious godfather.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m so proud of you.’
He pressed his thumb against her cheekbone. ‘You’re a good person,’ he said softly, leaning forward so that his warm breath tickled her throat. ‘Good enough to eat.’
His words excited her unbearably, and she could feel heat pooling between her thighs. Cheeks burning, she gritted her teeth, trying to stay calm. ‘You don’t want to spoil your appetite. And I need to get dressed,’ she said lightly.
He sighed. ‘I still don’t really get why you’re so worried, pireni. Although I suppose I’d probably feel the same if I was in your shoes.’
Summoning up a smile, Prudence looked down at her high-heeled black court shoes. ‘If you were in my shoes I think you’d bring the party to a standstill!’
He grinned. ‘Don’t tempt me!’
His eyes met hers and she felt a shiver of desire run over her skin as Laszlo ran his hand slowly up her leg and then abruptly rolled to the other side of the bed.
‘You know what? I don’t care what you wear.’ He groaned. ‘But you have to put some clothes on or I won’t be responsible for what happens.’ He stood up. ‘In fact, just to be on the safe side, I’m going to go back to the castle. If I put a couple of fields and metre-thick stone walls between us I might just be able to keep my hands off you until after the party!’
He paused and pulled her scarf more tightly around his neck.
‘Oh, and I might change into something that’s a bit more “evening and party wear”!’
She giggled and their eyes met.
‘I’ll be back to pick you up later...ish.’ Blowing her a kiss, he grimaced and shook his head. ‘The things we do for love!’
After he’d gone, she spent at least ten minutes mulling over his words. Finally she roused herself. It was just a phrase—a jokey remark that people used all the time. She would be crazy to read anything more into it.
Twenty minutes later she slid a lipstick across her lips and stared critically at her reflection in the dressing table mirror.
She turned her head from side to side. The neckline was perhaps a little lower than she’d normally wear, and her pinned-up hair would probably not survive the dancing, but overall she was satisfied. Still staring at her reflection, she bit her lip. She seemed to be looking at two separate versions of herself. One was serene and cool, the deep smoky grey of the long silk dress highlighting her classic English rose skin and fair hair. The other Prudence was visible only in her eyes, which were dark, apprehensive. Aroused by Laszlo’s imagined response to her transforma
tion.
She heard a knock at the door and felt a stab of excitement. Laszlo!
Heart pounding, she opened the door—and took a step backwards, her hand over her mouth. He looked impossibly handsome in a classic black dinner jacket, his snowy white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, bow tie hanging loose around the collar.
‘It—it’s a dinner jacket,’ she stammered.
He glanced down at himself nonchalantly. ‘This old thing? I found it at the back of my wardrobe,’ he murmured.
He smiled, his teeth gleaming in the darkness. She saw the flare of approval and desire in his face and felt her body respond.
‘You’re beautiful, Prudence,’ he said softly. Reaching out, he tugged gently at a tendril of honey-coloured hair, shaping the curl between his fingers. ‘I love your hair up like this. You’re like a goddess—an Aphrodite.’
Prudence stared at him breathlessly. He was more beautiful than any god she could name. And sexier too, with his shirt open and his eyes dark and teasing.
‘That would explain why I can’t ever seem to get warm. I should really be on some hot Greek mountain,’ she said lightly, her heart banging against her chest.
He studied her in silence. ‘Speaking of cold...are you going to invite me in or shall I just wait out here?’
She blushed. ‘Sorry. Of course—come in. I just need to get my bag.’
Shutting the door behind him, Laszlo pulled off his jacket and hung it carelessly over the back of the sofa. He sat down in one of the armchairs, picked up a magazine and began to flick through it.
After a moment he sighed and put his feet up onto the coffee table. ‘What do women put in their bags anyway?’ he said idly.
Prudence smiled. ‘All the things men keep in their jacket pockets. Money, keys, lipstick...’
‘I don’t have any lipstick,’ Laszlo said sadly.
She laughed softly. ‘You don’t have any money or keys either.’
Grinning up at her, he tugged her leg and she let herself fall into his lap.
‘Is that so? How would you know? Or have you been going through my clothes as well as breaking into my house?’
He shook his head and, laughing, she wriggled free of his hands. Standing up, she pulled down his jacket and began patting the pockets one by one.
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