“It was more than that, and you know it.” She cupped his face in her hands, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must have been for you... losing someone you loved that way. No wonder Christmas is a bad time.”
He couldn’t bear her touch. Not now. He was raw inside. “Feel free to go,” he said, pushing her hands away along with her gentle empathy. “As you can see, I’m neither drunk nor high and I have no plans to harm myself in a dramatic show of grief.”
Turning his back, he paced the room, wondering how long it would take to get rid of her. The longer she stayed, the more he wanted her. And he’d done enough stupid things for one night.
Emma curled up in a chair. “Tell me about Danielle,” she said softly. “What was she like?”
He continued to traverse the room, in danger of wearing a path in the carpet. Talking to Emma about Danielle was both ironic and terribly sad. “She was delightful,” he said, casting back for memories. “A good person in every sense of the word. She threw herself into life with abandon—charming, funny, always kind to those who were out of step with the world.”
“She sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She was. I never heard her say an unkind word about anyone.”
“How long had the two of you been together?”
“Four years.”
Emma winced visibly. “And the accident?”
He didn’t want to go there. But that moment was as vivid in his mind as if it had happened yesterday. Some days he thought he would never be able to erase the recollection. So why did it matter if he told Emma at least part of the truth?
“Liam told you, I guess, that I brought Danielle home to meet my family. It was December, and the town was decked out for the holidays. Danielle fell in love with Silver Glen.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Who could resist?”
“True. At any rate, we had been here a couple of days when we got a surprise. An early snowfall, almost six inches. Conor and I were jazzed. We made plans to go skiing and took Danielle with us.”
“Had she skied before?”
“She knew how to ski, but she wasn’t very good at it, and it had been a long time. So we kept to the easy runs, not quite the bunny slopes, but close. She regained her confidence finally, and we decided to tackle something a little more challenging. Conor went first. Then Danielle. I brought up the rear. About halfway down, she lost her balance and careened off the course, headed for a clump of trees. I heard her laughing, and then she screamed, and then she crumpled in a broken heap on the ground.”
He wasn’t looking at Emma as he struggled through the dark tale. So he was startled when he felt her arms come around him.
She pressed her cheek to his chest. “I can’t even imagine what you went through. How dreadful.”
“We got her down the mountain with the help of the ski patrol, but she was unconscious. At the hospital, they determined that the blow to her head had caused a massive brain bleed. She never woke up. Two days later, she was dead.”
Emma hugged him so tightly he thought his ribs would crack. He rested his chin on the top of her head. He knew Emma was crying...for him. He wished he could cry, too. But he had buried his wounds and his emotions so deeply they were fossilized.
“There’s more,” he said, the two words hoarse.
She took him by the hand and drew him to the sofa. He sprawled in the corner and draped an arm around her shoulders when she nestled close.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I’ve heard enough.”
“But not the worst part. There’s something I’ve never told anyone.”
“You can trust me with your secret.” She squeezed his hand.
“I was the one who thought Danielle should come with us. I’ll never forget asking her. She was curled up by the fire—wrapped in a cozy afghan, reading. I told her the plan, but she said for me to go on with my brother...that she was perfectly happy to sit with her book and enjoy a quiet morning.”
Emma moved restlessly, perhaps sensing what was to come. But she didn’t speak.
“I’m to blame,” he said, shuddering inwardly. “I begged her to go with us. Told her how much fun it would be. And in the end, I won her over.”
“Oh, Aidan.”
He ignored the loaded comment.
“It was my fault she died. I have to live with that.”
* * *
Emma sat in silence, her world in ashes. Aidan hadn’t lied to her after all. When he told her the sex was only sex, it had been the truth. Because he was still in love with his dead fiancée.
He might not realize it. But she heard the emotional pain in his words...heard him describe Danielle with such love and affection. And because his grief was so all-encompassing and so deep, he had been unable to move on.
Clearly, coming to Silver Glen at Christmas for his brother’s wedding was a decision he had made at great personal cost. Every Christmas tree and wreath and sprig of holly must be a bitter reminder of all he had lost.
His reaction, more than anything, told Emma she’d never had a chance at rekindling their old romance. There was nothing to rekindle. She was the only one who had kept the glow of a youthful relationship alive. For a man to love so faithfully and so well that he still grieved years later and continued to carry a load of guilt, meant that his heart was not his own. He had buried it with Danielle.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you for telling me. She must have been a very special woman.”
Suddenly, everything seemed awkward. Should she go...leave him to his own devices? Or should she stay to give him comfort...any kind of comfort she could offer?
Aidan sat up and rested his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “Did I upset Dylan and Mia?”
Emma chose her words carefully. “If you’re asking was the party ruined...no. But of course your family is worried about you. We could go back if you want.”
“God, no.” His rough laugh held no humor at all. “I did enough damage earlier. I’m sure they don’t need me throwing a damper on things. I’ll have an early night, and tomorrow I’ll make it up to them somehow. I feel like an idiot.”
She touched his arm. “You’re a man who cares deeply. Nothing wrong with that.” Since she still had not resolved her inner struggle, she rose to her feet. “I should go now. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m really sorry. About Danielle, I mean.”
He stood and faced her. “Will you think it incredibly crass if I ask you to stay tonight?”
She searched his eyes, looking for any indication that he truly wanted her. Was it enough to know that she would be giving him comfort in a way no one else could at the moment? “I thought you said physical intimacy between the two of us was a bad idea.”
“It’s been a hell of an evening. Being rational is not high on my list at the moment. But you’re free to say no. I would say no to me if I were you.”
The humor was weak, but it was there. He had turned a corner. “I don’t believe saying no to you is my strong suit.”
He curled a strand of her hair around his finger. “I want to make one thing clear before we go any further...”
“Okay.” She braced inwardly.
“When I went all psycho tonight, it wasn’t only because I was remembering Danielle’s accident. It was also a gut-deep reaction to the idea that you could get hurt. You mean something to me, Emma. Maybe it’s not what it was in the past, and maybe it’s not what you deserve, but I do have feelings, despite my efforts to the contrary.”
Her heart warmed more than it should have. His eyes were filled with something. Affection? Attraction? What self-respecting female went to bed with a man who was in love with another woman? Was she a masochist?
“You mean something to me as well. But you should know that I don’t expect anything beyond tonight. I want to be with you. If that brings us both pleasure, that’s reason enough.”
Fourteen
Aidan was so deeply enmeshed in his lies of omission that he couldn’t even reach the moral high ground, much less stand on it. He was too busy protecting himself from Emma. And now...tonight...with deliberate intent, he was going to take what she was offering and damn the consequences.
When Emma mentioned skiing earlier, it did bring back the past and Danielle’s accident. But what had really prompted his abrupt departure was a vicious jolt of panic at the thought that the world could lose Emma as well.
For the last ten years, in the midst of anger and grief and frustration with himself for still caring about her, at least he had known that somewhere on the planet she was alive and well.
He hadn’t truly realized until this evening that if she were to die, he couldn’t bear it. Emma married to another man and happy with babies? That, he could wrap his head around. But dead? Like Danielle? The notion was unfathomable.
Gripping one of her wrists, he reeled her into his embrace. “I have fantasies about your hair,” he muttered.
“My hair?” A little squiggle of a frown appeared between her brows. “Surely you can do better than that.”
“Oh, no,” he said, drawing her toward the bedroom before she could change her mind. “It’s a guy thing. The more you pin and twist and tuck it, the more I want to muss you up.”
She laughed softly. “Be my guest. This fancy updo is giving me a headache anyway.”
Once they crossed the threshold into the inner room of the suite, he closed the door and leaned against it. A single small lamp cast an intimate circle of light. Emma eyed him warily, perhaps wondering if he were in his right mind. Maybe he was and maybe he wasn’t. Ever since the moment he came face-to-face with her in the emergency room, he had questioned his sanity.
Ten years ago she had betrayed him and made a fool of him, and yet at the same time she had been the center of his world for three amazing months. Now, the good memories battled the bad, as if trying to convince him that the past was the past...that the future held endless possibilities.
Emma had asked again and again for the chance to explain her actions. To make amends. To request absolution. He had shut her down every time she tried.
Should he let her speak of that terrible day? Let her attempt to make sense of it? Or did it even matter from the vantage point of a decade in time? He was a man. He understood that life included disappointments. The blessings of family and friends were balanced with the inevitable struggles of living. Not that all struggles were as tragic as Danielle’s death.
Shaking his head slightly, he decided such questions could wait. Emma wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe he would let her open the door to the past. But not here. And not now.
“Come closer, my English rose,” he muttered, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it free of his pants. When he shrugged out of it and tossed it toward the closet, Emma’s eyes widened.
She sighed, lips parted, as she obeyed his command. Placing her hands flat on his chest, she flicked his flat, copper-colored nipples with sharp fingernails. The tiny stings of pain arrowed to his groin and joined the rush of arousal that already had his sex lifting to attention.
“I won’t regret this,” she said softly. “I’m glad we had this chance to see each other again. Maybe we both needed closure.”
He didn’t like the finality in her description, even though he’d been the one to say they had no future. “You talk too much,” he said, only half-joking. He didn’t want to think tonight. All he wanted was to feel her body straining against his.
Without asking, he pulled the pins from her hair one at a time and dropped them into a crystal dish. Each small clink was quiet music to his ears. When he was done, he used both hands to winnow through her hair, separating the strands and smoothing the wavy tresses. “That’s better,” he said softly.
The prelude to sex was easier this time, more natural. Removing Emma’s clothes was a reverent task not to be rushed. When he had her down to a set of ultrafeminine undies and bra, he finished his own disrobing. Lowering the zipper on his slacks was tricky. His erection bobbed thick and eager as he eased it free of confinement.
Together, they climbed into the enormous hedonistic bed. The Silver Beeches Lodge spared no expense when it came to their guests’ comfort. Whether for sleep or more intimate pursuits, the bedding and mattress provided an island of physical bliss.
He leaned over Emma on one elbow, studying the dewy perfection of her skin. Maybe something about the air and water in the British Isles produced this exquisite variety of female.
“Tell me one of your fantasies,” he said. “Something naughty you’ve always wanted to do but never had the chance.”
Her instant, cheeky grin made him shiver. She sighed. “I’ve always wanted to have sex in a lift.”
“A lift?” All the blood in his head had rushed south, making him slow to comprehend.
“You know...an elevator. Preferably one with glass on the top half. So people watching might have a clue as to what’s happening, but wouldn’t know for sure.”
He gaped at her. “Emma. You wicked girl.”
Her shrug was epic. “You asked.”
“So I did.” And now all he could think about was where such an elevator might exist. Certainly not in the town of Silver Glen. “I’m going to forget you said that,” he muttered. “Although getting the image out of my head will be hard.”
“You said hard.” She snickered. “Is that a Freudian slip?”
He touched her smooth thigh, running his hand from her knee to the crevice where leg joined torso. Her underwear was tiny and sexy. Twisting a finger in the side band, he snapped it deliberately. “Freud might want to study my caveman tendencies.” Tugging the small piece of fabric to uncover her secrets, he nudged her hip. “Lift your butt.”
Now she was completely bare from the waist down. He took the opportunity to tease her with kisses that ranged from playful to deliberately sexual.
Emma moved restlessly, her hands gripping his head. “Aidan.”
“Hmmm...?” Her taste was exquisite.
“I want to do something.”
“Pretty sure we’re already doing it.”
“I’m serious.”
He winced when she pulled his hair. “Okay, okay.” Rolling to his back, he turned his head to look at her. “You have my attention.”
Emma, in turn, surprised the hell out of him by moving agilely and straddling his waist. “I want to take care of you tonight,” she said. “Will you let me?”
Her body was a pleasant weight at his hips. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She leaned forward, her lace-covered breasts in kissing distance, and took his wrists in her hands. “I want you to grab hold of the spindles in the headboard. We don’t have anything to tie you with, so you’ll have to promise not to let go.”
A fresh current of arousal flooded his veins. “Please don’t tell me being a dominatrix is on your bucket list. I’ll never believe it.” People often made jokes in tense situations. This definitely counted. “A lady never acts out of character,” he said. “I think you’ve been reading too many erotic novels.”
“I’m not always a lady, Aidan. Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think.”
Well, hell’s bells. That shut him up. With her small hands guiding his wrists, he found the slender pieces of wood and wrapped his fingers around two of them. The stretch in his shoulders was pleasant. So far.
“What next?” he asked, trying to gauge her mood.
Emma shifted her weight back to his hips again. Her expression defied analysis. Not uncertainty. More like assessment. He wasn’t sure if that aroused him or worried him. In all honesty, a bit of both.
“Are you comfortable?” she asked, her hands flat on her thighs. Considering that her lady parts were tantalizingly close to his rigid sex, it was a loaded question.
“Yes.”
She nodded once. “Good. Now close your eyes.”
“Um...” He flexed his feet, his toes cold.
“Are you afraid of me, Aidan?” Her question could have been flirtatious, but the tone suggested she was serious.
“Should I be?” he asked, dodging the truth.
“I want to make you feel good...that’s all. No need for alarm. You can trust me.”
He wondered if this were some kind of test. To prove to him that she had changed. “I’m in your hands. Be gentle with me.”
His half-hearted teasing didn’t even coax a smile from her. “I’m waiting for you to close your eyes.” She said it patiently in the tone of someone dealing with a stubborn toddler.
“Are you going to ditch the bra?” he asked hopefully. The pastel lace was mostly transparent, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to uncover what was underneath. He simply hadn’t gotten to it when she turned the tables so unexpectedly.
Emma shrugged. “It won’t matter,” she said softly. “You won’t be able to see.”
The simple statement struck him as a threat, even though there was nothing of menace in the words. Apparently, his trust issues went deeper than he realized. Now that he thought about it, he’d never allowed any woman this kind of physical control.
He’d played naughty games with females in the past, but Aidan had always wielded the power. From this side of the metaphorical whip, he felt distinctly uneasy. But he wasn’t about to reveal his reservations. Not at this particular moment.
Inhaling a deep gulp of air that lifted his chest, he let it out slowly as he closed his eyes and tightened his grip.
Fifteen
Aidan Kavanagh was an extraordinarily masculine and beautiful man. Though he had complied with her orders, Emma sat motionless for a moment, enjoying the tableau. His skin was lightly tanned, the hair on his torso and beneath his arms a shade darker than his deep brown locks with the hint of fire in them.
With his arms extended above his head, she could see the tendons and muscles that delineated his strength. Broad shoulders and a hair-dusted chest tapered to a trim waist, flat stomach and below...Oh, lordy...
His sex, though still somewhat turgid, lay against his thigh. Perhaps her offer to make him feel good was ambiguous enough to make it difficult for him to relax.
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