by Lucy King
Of course there’d be only one bedroom in the house. Everything about her, to do with her, was designed to torment him, so the less than ideal sleeping arrangements were par for the course.
What wasn’t par for the course, what had had him scything through the water as though a pair of great whites were snapping at his feet, was Kate’s response to his declaration that he still wanted her. He’d had no intention of telling her, hell, he barely admitted it to himself, but when she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion about why they would not be sharing a bed, she’d deflated right in front of him and he hadn’t liked it.
She’d certainly perked up when he’d recklessly corrected her misconception. Her eyes had darkened to indigo and her breath had caught, and he had no doubt if she knew what she’d revealed she’d be appalled. He, on the other hand, had experienced a jolt of surprise, inexplicable relief that he wasn’t alone in this and, unbelievably, even hotter, more desperate desire, which meant that this was going to be one very long weekend because while the attraction might be mutual there was no way he was going to do anything about it.
‘Drink?’
With Herculean effort, Theo switched his gaze from where Kate was chatting to Elaine Bridgeman over by the window of the elegant drawing room to his host, the man he was here to see and to convince. ‘Whisky,’ he said, ruthlessly blocking out the sound of Kate’s laughter and the threat to his peace of mind she presented as he accepted the drink. ‘Thank you. And thank you for the invitation this weekend.’
‘It was time,’ said Daniel gruffly. ‘I’ve been following recent events with interest. Congratulations on your engagement.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Kate’s very striking.’
‘She is,’ Theo agreed, resisting the monumental temptation to glance over at her.
‘How long have you known her?’
‘Not long. Seven weeks.’
‘A whirlwind romance.’
Inwardly he recoiled, every cell of his body rejecting the idea, but outwardly he barely moved a muscle. ‘Something like that,’ he replied evenly.
‘She used to work for you.’
‘She did.’
‘But she resigned recently.’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re okay with that?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Has she got another position lined up?’
Theo felt a flicker of annoyance. He could hear the scepticism in Daniel’s voice and he didn’t like it one little bit. ‘Not yet.’
‘Pre-nup?’
‘No.’
‘Is that wise?’
It was irrelevant. Kate wasn’t after his money. She wasn’t after anything. Which was exactly how he wanted it. ‘It’s no one’s business but mine.’
‘Nevertheless—’
‘Daniel.’
The older man looked at him shrewdly. ‘Interesting. Well. Good. Glad to hear it. Very glad indeed,’ he said, nodding and smiling as if he, Theo, had passed some sort of test. ‘It may sound trite,’ he added with a fond glance in the direction of his wife and sentimentality in his tone, ‘but when you know, you know. I knew the second I laid eyes on Elaine that she was the one for me. We were married within eight weeks and I haven’t regretted it for a second.’
It was a good thing Daniel didn’t appear to expect a response to that because Theo didn’t have one. What he did suddenly have was a churning gut, clammy skin and a thundering pulse, because whatever Daniel might be insinuating, Kate wasn’t the one for him. She couldn’t be. No one ever would be. She was a temporary fiancée, that was all. They barely knew each other. On Monday, with the deal in the bag, they’d go their separate ways. The all-consuming desire and the worrying sense of impending chaos would finally be gone and he couldn’t be more looking forward to it.
‘Have you set a date?’ said Daniel, briefly yanking Theo out of the dark maelstrom of his thoughts.
‘Not yet,’ he said. Not ever.
‘The pregnancy must be an added complication.’
The pregnancy wasn’t anything except a means to an end. ‘In some respects.’
‘You’re a lucky man.’
No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t lucky at all. Nor could he seem to get a grip. Because now not only did he feel as if he were about to pass out, but an image had slammed into his head, the image of a small child with his dark hair and Kate’s blue eyes. No matter how hard he tried to wipe it out, the picture wouldn’t budge, and suddenly his entire body prickled as if being stabbed with a hundred daggers.
Daniel continued to talk, but about what Theo had no idea. His host’s words and his surroundings faded. His vision blurred. All he could see were the images that were whipping around his head, pushing aside everything else, making it pound and his heart race.
Why couldn’t he block them out? he wondered, holding himself still through sheer force of will while inside he felt as if he were falling apart. He’d done so successfully so far. He’d hardly noticed the way Kate kept touching and stroking her abdomen. He’d got more than used to the ring blinking at him and tormenting him by making him wish for things he had no right to wish for and could never have. So what was different about tonight?
The pressure. That was what it had to be. Immense and crushing, it was bearing down on him like a thousand-ton weight and exposing hairline cracks in his armour. This weekend was the most important of his life. He couldn’t afford any mistakes. Nor could he afford weakness. Ever. He had to plaster over those cracks and bury that weakness. Now. For good.
‘Are you all right, Theo?’ he heard Daniel ask as, with superhuman effort, he cleared his head of the images, the sense of suffocation and chaos, and refocused his attention.
‘Couldn’t be better,’ he replied smoothly, savagely dismissing the fear that it was a lie.
‘Then let’s go through to dinner, shall we?’
* * *
To hell with playing nice, thought Kate grimly, passing by Theo as he held open the villa’s front door after what had to be one of the most excruciating, most stressful evenings of her life.
What was wrong with him?
He’d been tense ever since he’d returned from his marathon swim, the progress of which she’d surreptitiously watched from the bedroom window while admiring the way he powered through the water, but tension was nothing new. It seemed to be embedded in his DNA.
However, the moment they’d gone through to supper, she’d noticed a dramatic change in his demeanour. He’d been even more on edge than usual, his mood black and rippling with swirling undercurrents that luckily it appeared only she had been able to detect. Outwardly he’d engaged, but inwardly he’d been somewhere else entirely and she’d lost count of the number of times she’d had to cover for him. He’d ruined for her a delicious dinner on a terrace that had the most incredible views with interesting and gracious hosts, and she badly wanted to know why.
‘Okay,’ she said, turning round to face him and crossing her arms over her chest as he closed the door and locked it. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong,’ he said flatly.
‘Was it something I said? Something I did?’
‘You were fine,’ he muttered, moving round her and fixed himself a drink from the kitchenette. ‘Want anything?’
‘A glass of water, please.’
He filled a glass with some water and thrust it at her. As she took it from him, their fingers brushed and electricity arced through her, setting fire to her blood and charging the air surrounding them with a crackling sizzle.
‘Thank you,’ she said, firmly banking down the heat, ignoring the sizzle and getting a grip.
‘You’re welcome.’
‘Well, something was up,’ she continued, not planning to let it go any time soon despite his reluctance to share because she was done with guesswork and as
sumption and always getting it wrong. ‘You were all right at drinks and then not all right at supper. What happened in between?’
‘Nothing happened.’
Right. ‘Is there anything you want to talk about?’
His mouth twisted and he took a slug of his drink. ‘No.’
‘Sure?’
His jaw tightened. ‘Leave it, Kate.’
‘Because if there’s something I can do to help...?’
‘Okay, fine,’ he snapped, slamming his glass down and shoving his hands through his hair. ‘Actually, you are what’s wrong.’
Oh. That was a blow. ‘But I thought you said I did all right,’ she said, frowning.
‘You did,’ he said, stalking towards her with a look in his eye that had her instinctively wanting to retreat. ‘Do you want to know what I was thinking at dinner when I should have been paying attention to the conversation?’
Did she? Suddenly she wasn’t at all sure. Every drop of intelligence she possessed was telling her that if she had any sense of self-preservation at all she should get far, far away because she sensed he was on the brink of a confession from which there’d be no return. But she’d pushed for this and she wasn’t going to back down now, so she ignored the warning voice in her head, and said, ‘Of course.’
‘I was thinking about you, Kate,’ he said, his voice low and rough as he came to a stop just in front of her. ‘In that bed upstairs. With me. And no pillows down the middle.’
His eyes blazed into hers with more heat than she could possibly have imagined and her body flamed in response. Her pulse galloped and desire pooled between her legs. ‘Well, that’s not going to happen,’ she said a lot more breathlessly than she’d have liked. ‘Let’s not forget the only reason I’m here, Theo. Because you blackmailed me. I wouldn’t sleep with you again if you were the last man on earth.’
‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘No.’
His dark eyes glittered. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘I’ve never been surer of anything.’
‘I could prove you wrong.’ His gaze dropped to her mouth and her breath caught in her throat. ‘Easily.’
And now she did take a step back. ‘I would advise against it,’ she said with a tiny jut of her chin, even though every inch of her was demanding he get on with it. ‘Anyway, I don’t believe you.’
His gaze snapped back up, a deep scowl creasing his brow. ‘What, exactly, don’t you believe?’
‘You wouldn’t let a little thing like desire get in the way of this deal.’
‘It’s hardly little.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she said, refusing to get distracted by thoughts of what exactly he might be referring to. ‘This is nothing more than a diversionary tactic. Something else was bothering you. I know it. I know you.’
As if she’d dumped a bucket of cold water over his head, the heat left his gaze and his expression turned stony and forbidding. A chill ran through her and she shivered.
‘You know nothing, Kate,’ he said icily, ‘and you most certainly don’t know me.’
‘Then talk to me.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
And quite suddenly Kate had had enough. If Theo couldn’t see that this weekend would go a whole lot better if they worked as a team then that was his lookout. What did it matter if he didn’t want to tell her what troubled him? They were nothing. She didn’t need to know. In fact, it was probably better that she didn’t know, because the last thing she wanted was to develop sympathy for him. Or any kind of feelings, for that matter.
‘Okay, fine,’ she said with a shrug as a wave of weariness washed over her. ‘It’s late. I’m tired. And I give up. Have it your own way. I don’t care any more than you care about the fact that I’ve given up my weekend for this and for you and am therefore missing a visit to my sister for the first time in years. But you really ought to rethink your attitude, because I might have been able to cover for you tonight but I can’t keep doing it, and Daniel Bridgeman is no fool.’
Annoyed by the inexplicable disappointment rushing through her and now just wanting to be anywhere he wasn’t, Kate turned on her heel to head up the stairs. But as she did so the glass flew from her fingers and smashed into the wall, sending water flying before shattering into a thousand tiny pieces.
For a second she simply stood there staring at the broken glass lying on the floor, the echo of the crash bouncing off the walls, and then she snapped to. ‘Terrific,’ she muttered beneath her breath, stalking to the kitchen and yanking open cupboards in search of a dustpan and brush. Pregnancy induced clumsiness. Just what she needed.
But as she marched back and began to sweep up the glass, she caught a glimpse of Theo out of the corner of her eye, and something about what she saw made her stop. Straighten. And abandon the clearing up. Because he was utterly rigid. White. A bead of sweat was trickling down his temple and he didn’t appear to even notice.
‘Theo?’ she asked in alarm, her frustration with him suddenly history. ‘Are you all right?’
But he didn’t answer. He didn’t move a muscle. He seemed completely lost in his own world, and for some reason her heart squeezed. Before she could consider the wisdom of it and spurred on by an instinct she didn’t understand, she walked over to him, avoiding the remains of the shattered glass, and lifted her hand to touch his face.
And then he reacted.
With lightning-like reflexes he grabbed her wrist and held it. Kate let out a startled gasp and for the briefest of moments they, time, everything, froze. She could hear nothing but the thundering of her heart, could see nothing but his eyes, which burned with myriad emotions she couldn’t begin to identify.
And then a split second later the shutters slammed down and he let her go as if scalded and now it was her turn to remain rooted to the spot. She slowly lowered her arm and absently rubbed her wrist, but her entire body trembled and her mind reeled with the sickening suspicion that Theo’s reaction had been the instinctive response of someone anticipating a blow. Expecting it. And the unexpected tumult of emotion that rushed through her at the thought stole her breath.
‘So. Nothing to talk about, huh?’ she said quietly when she could finally speak, her heart hammering and her entire body filling with a sudden and inexplicable burning rage towards whoever was responsible for it.
‘Go to bed, Kate.’
* * *
As he watched Kate head slowly up the stairs and then disappear into the bedroom, the door closing behind her with a quiet click, Theo felt the icy numbness fade and into its place stormed such revulsion, horror and repugnance that his knees nearly gave way. The room spun around him and he couldn’t breathe.
He’d grabbed her wrist, was the thought hammering around his head as his pulse pounded and his gut churned. Not tightly. But definitely firmly. He’d acted on instinct. He’d lost control. Not once in the years since he’d walked out of the squalid flat he’d grown up in had it happened. There’d been triggers, the occasional flash of memory, but he’d handled them. However, not so just now, and if he’d ever doubted the wisdom of his decision to stay away from Kate and the child that doubt was gone for ever. A better man would send her home.
What could she possibly think of what had happened? She had to be horrified. Maybe even terrified of what he might be capable of. At the very least she had to have questions. And since he wasn’t a better man and he wasn’t going to send her home, he had to give her the answers. He had no option. Despite every cell of his body rejecting the idea, he owed her an explanation. She had a right to know about the genes he carried and he couldn’t have her looking at him with apprehension and uncertainty for the next forty-eight hours. He needed to clear the air. He needed to give her reassurance. Now.
Setting his jaw and galvanising into action while his brain shut down everything but the cold bare facts,
Theo took the steps two at a time and banged on the door. ‘Kate?’
‘Come in.’
Bracing himself, although for what he had no idea, he opened the door and went in. Kate was sitting on the edge of the bed, her face pale and her eyes troubled.
‘Are you all right?’ he said grimly, scouring her expression for signs of pain and fear. He saw none, but he well knew that that didn’t mean they weren’t there.
‘I’m fine.’
‘Did I hurt you?’
‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let me look.’
With a tiny sigh, Kate held out her arm and he stalked over to her, taking the wrist he’d grasped and examining it for marks, which thankfully didn’t exist.
‘You see,’ she said softly. ‘It’s fine.’
He let her go and stepped back, shoving his hands through his hair. ‘It’s not fine.’
‘Really.’
‘I owe you an explanation.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said with a quick shake of her head. ‘If anyone owes anyone anything, I owe you an apology.’
Theo frowned. ‘What for?’
‘Pushing. I had no right.’
‘You had every right.’ Because she’d been bang on when she’d confronted him on his attitude over dinner. Despite his conviction he’d dealt with it, he hadn’t been able to shake the image of that child, and the realisation that his hold on his control wasn’t as invincible as he’d assumed had been deeply disturbing and worryingly all-consuming.
‘When you dropped the glass,’ he said, addressing the part of the evening he understood marginally better and did need to explain, ‘it triggered memories. Bad ones.’
She swallowed hard and lifted her shimmering gaze to his. ‘Of abuse?’
