Talib straightened, resting his hands to jean-clad thighs.
“She was there when I was finally able to open my eyes. She was the only one I wanted to talk to. I couldn’t even face my mother. I’ve never said anything to Riley either about it, I was too ashamed. I only told Lettia about the pills when my dependency started to scare me.” She shook her head and focused again on the swaying limbs beyond the windows.
“I believe the reason you blamed me for my supposed betrayal was because of all that happened between your parents.” Her gaze was defiant then as she fixed him with a glare. “That was why I had to know.”
Talib bowed his head and began to rub his fingers through the glossy curls covering it. “It didn’t take me long to know you hadn’t betrayed me.”
“That’s right. I didn’t betray you.”
“I know, and you’re right. All the baggage I carried did play into how I handled it—or didn’t handle it, actually.”
“Lettia insisted on me seeing a therapist after I told her about the pills.” Misha sighed, realizing that they had gone too far to hold back anything more. “Once I accepted that things were truly over between us I was able to get myself back on track. Then you started being nice to me and I panicked. What if we had another falling out and I was out and driving through another storm and got into another accident? What if I became a slave to those pills again?”
Talib left the foot seat and went to stand before the windows.
“Talking about those feelings helped a lot—it still does. I don’t feel weak for admitting that. Those thoughts…I sometimes have them but they don’t terrify me like they once did. I’m not their victim anymore. Regardless of what happens in my life from here on out, I never intend to be a victim again.”
Talib closed his eyes, silently thanking God for that.
“Talib?” Misha called when the silence lasted a bit too long for comfort.
Slowly, he turned from the windows. “Thank you for sharing that. I know you don’t want me to feel blame, but I am sorry.”
“Talib—”
“I’ll let you finish your bath.”
Misha wouldn’t give in to the tears when he left her alone in the room.
Later that afternoon, Misha felt up to taking a walk. Once Serena had given her approval, she set out to see the new foal everyone had been talking about. She found the mare nursing her calf and Talib there watching them. She halted in the archway of the stable, unsure whether to stay put or back away.
Talib would let her do neither. “Come over here,” he said, waving.
Misha kept her steps slow when she noticed the animals’ ears twitching. She came close and knelt to observe in wonder.
“I’ve often wondered if we’d ever have one of our own.” His voice sounded hollow.
“A horse?” Misha frowned.
Talib’s dimples flashed when he grinned. “A little one—a child.”
Misha felt her mouth go dry. She thought she couldn’t be any more stunned.
“I, well, humph. Your family already has you making me your wife—I guess the next logical step is a little one.”
Talib didn’t find her joke amusing. “That was for real, Misha. I had every intention of proposing to you before we left England.”
Her heart was in her throat. “You had every intention?”
“I understand why you didn’t want to tell me about the pills. Now that I know…” He focused on the hay he worked between his fingers. “I have to think about all of this again.”
“You mean reconsider,” Misha clarified.
“I love you.” He turned and shook his head in case she were about to doubt it. “I love you too much to risk…” He couldn’t finish and rose to his feet.
Misha stayed put, her tilting gaze still trained on the horses. “I love you, too—too much not to risk it.”
The muscle danced along his jaw when he tensed further. “But what if some other dumb stuff goes down again between us? You almost didn’t survive it last time.” He practically grunted, stroking his jaw when the words hit home. “I sure as hell wouldn’t survive it this time.”
“Could you stand not knowing where I am?” She picked up a tuft of hay and slapped it against the sleeve of her sweater. “Could you stand not knowing how I’m doing…or who I’m with?” She met his gaze slowly when he whirled around to look down at her. “I lived through that already, Talib. Doing without you again just to keep things safe…” She grimaced. “It’s a bad way to live. If given the chance, I’d prefer not going back to that.”
Talib pulled her to her feet. “I wish I could promise you—”
She shook her head, placing an index finger across his mouth to silence him. “I don’t want your promises. I want your love. I want you.”
His tension seemed to wane. A smile emerged. “Well, I can certainly promise you’ve got that, Miss Bales.” He bumped his forehead to hers. “You’ve damn well got that.”
The words melded into the kiss he planted on her lips. Misha kneaded his arms beneath the suede fabric of his burnished gold jacket as she stood on her toes, seeking as much height as she could gain. She almost didn’t even register that they’d moved from the stall housing the mare and her foal, until she was lying on a bed of fresh golden hay in the farthermost stall.
“Someone could walk in,” she warned in a small voice when Talib’s mouth trailed to the scoop front of her sweater.
He kicked the wooden three-quarter door shut. “They’ll hear you before getting close enough to see us.”
Misha laughed. “I like your confidence, Mr. Mason.”
“It takes confidence to please a woman like you.” He grew serious then.
Misha turned serious, as well. “A woman like me?”
He brushed hair from her face and followed the line of his finger as it curved her cheek. “Exquisite, sweet, to be treasured and mine—all mine.”
Misha blinked, allowing a tear to stream from the corner of her eye.
“Don’t cry, love,” he soothed, the provocative glide of his accented voice bringing an added sensuality to the moment. “I love you, Misha. Through all the stupidity, I swear I never stopped.”
“I never stopped, either.” She shook her head, gripping the lapels of his jacket. “I love you, Talib, so much.”
They sealed their vows with a kiss.
Chapter 19
The next two days were like a blur, but a most enjoyable blur as far as Misha was concerned. She’d met much of Talib’s family and found them to be as down-to-earth as Cafrey and Baron. But none of them were pleased with Talib when he insisted on getting Misha back to New York. The group was, however, somewhat pacified when he promised they’d return shortly after the New Year.
Misha was adding a few final items to her suitcase when Talib stepped into the room, closed and locked the door behind him. She smiled when he encircled her in his arms and nuzzled his face into her neck.
“I should really be doing this.” She gestured toward the suitcase then rested her head back against him and enjoyed the magnificent feel of his body behind hers.
“And I should really be doing this.”
Misha saw the diamond ease beneath the line of her gaze. “Talib.” Her voice was scarcely a whisper. “Isn’t this…too soon?” She felt his laughter rumbling through her.
“It’s been six years. Do you love me?” he asked in the same breath.
“So much.” She nodded without hesitating.
“Will you be my wife, then?”
She turned in his arms, done with excuses. “Always.” She bit her lip while he eased the ring onto her finger. “How do you think Riley’ll take the news that she’s about to lose her editor to the West?”
Talib’s black stare narrowed and he tilted his head to peer more directly at her. “You’d really do that for me?”
The “little boy” awe in his voice tugged at her heart. “I love you. We’ve done without each other far too long. Being with you, wherever you
are, means more to me than anything,” she swore, loving him all the more when he appeared truly stunned that she’d begin her life again for him.
Moments later she was rewarded by a strong kiss. The yoga pants and zip hoodie she’d worn that day were soon only memories.
“Why am I always first out of my clothes?” she murmured while he undid her bra clasp with expert fingers.
Talib suckled her earlobe. “It’s important to get to the good parts first.”
“His head is buried in a folder and the phone conversation doesn’t sound like one that’ll be done in a matter of minutes.”
Misha shook her head over Baron’s announcement. “Well, I hope you both won’t mind lunch with just me.”
“We prefer it that way, love,” Cafrey admitted, and sent his nephew’s fiancée a sly wink. “Just clearing our conscience by making sure we made every effort to include the squirt.”
Misha’s laughter was full, even as a curious frown marred the area between her brows. “Talib’s about as far from a squirt as you can get. Why in the world did you two ever start calling him that?”
Baron was already laughing. “He wasn’t always that size, love, but a short, scrawny stick of a thing and we towered over him!”
“Then one day we looked around for him and found ourselves looking up, way up!” Cafrey bellowed while raising his mug for emphasis.
“That’s my fiancé.” Misha sighed the phrase and enjoyed a sip of her tea. Shortly though, she took note of Baron’s and Cafrey’s knowing smiles.
Baron didn’t wait for her to inquire. “We like the sound of that word—fiancé.”
“You’ve no idea how thrilled we are by it, love.” Cafrey leaned over to pat Misha’s knee.
“Brother, I’d say we aren’t nearly as thrilled by it as the squirt!” Baron reclined in the armchair he occupied near the fire. “We’ve never seen our nephew more alive.”
Misha smiled. “I can’t take all the credit, though.”
“If not you, then who?” Cafrey extended his hand in pretend outrage.
Misha was shaking her head. “Talib speaking out about the past was what finally did the trick. I know he loves me, but until he was able to share all that…hurt, we would’ve never had a chance.”
Baron and Cafrey both nodded. Silently, each was giving in to their own regrets about the past.
“Olivia.” Cafrey swallowed and bowed his head to massage his nose before continuing. “Talib’s mother—she was the youngest of us.”
“The youngest and the sweetest,” Baron qualified. “We never wanted a day of unhappiness to touch her—we all felt that way.” Like his brother had done earlier, it was Baron who bowed his head then to massage away the sudden pressure at the bridge of his nose.
“Damn it all if she hadn’t taken the lot of the unhappiness,” Cafrey murmured.
“Why didn’t any of you like Talib’s father?” Misha’s voice was a whisper, barely rising above the snap and crackle of the fire in the hearth.
Cafrey murmured a curse. “The jackass was after her money. It was all clear as day to us, but he swept her off her feet.”
“And looked good while he was doing it,” Baron smirked. “Talib’s the spitting image of the bastard.”
“Libby had no intentions of taking money from us, though, once she discovered how we felt about him. She told us she didn’t need the money anyway—that her husband would do a fine job of taking care of her.”
“Pity he didn’t know his wife’s expectations before he married her,” Baron added to his brother’s explanation.
“The bloke was ambitious, though.” Cafrey picked at a loose thread on the arm of the tweed chair he held. “He figured he’d come out on top regardless. And by God if he didn’t—came out on top fast and flashy…caught the eye of that pretty assistant of his.”
“Humph, for a while.”
Misha frowned toward Baron. “What happened?”
“Hell, she left him shortly after he walked out on Libby and Talib.”
Stunned, Misha sank back into her chair. “How do you know all of this?”
The brothers exchanged sour looks.
“We’d been keeping tabs on all of them.” Baron left his chair. “When Olivia started moving around we lost track…until she called asking us to take Talib.”
“Why did this woman leave Talib’s dad? She’d gotten what she was after—why walk away from it?”
Cafrey grinned. “If she were a man, I’d say because the chase was done.”
“But?”
“Like we said before, the fool did everything fast and flashy. Shoddy may be a better word, actually.” Baron shrugged. “It all fell apart in the end.”
“Misha, most people don’t understand the true meaning of hard work. It’s that way for a reason. Hard means solid and lasting.” Cafrey looked to his brother for confirmation. “The more easily it comes, the more easily it can fall apart.”
“Davin Sorrels,” Baron said, claiming a spot on the arm of the sofa, “Talib’s dad, didn’t get that part, but we think he may have gotten the hint later on.”
“Does Talib know any of this?” Misha held her hands clenched to the sides of her slacks. She watched as both men shrugged.
“The last time we know Talib saw his father, we think he may’ve been too taken aback by seeing the man to pay close attention to how riddled the chap appeared.”
“Frayed edges on his shirt,” Baron explained, “frayed coat collar, shoes were dusty and beaten up. He must’ve taken to cutting his own hair.”
Cafrey went to stoke the fire. “We made some inquiries and found out his business had fallen apart.”
“I can’t believe he doesn’t know.” Misha was still stunned and could scarcely shake her head over the matter.
“I’m sure Talib wanted nothing more to do with him after that visit.” Baron watched the flames rage beneath the poker Cafrey rolled amidst them. “His life was looking up. He didn’t want or need to be reminded of it.”
“Besides, I think he’d have told us something.” Cafrey had returned to his seat. “Especially once the man was in his grave.”
“His grave?” Misha sat straighter. “Both of them…both of his parents…?”
Cafrey and Baron nodded in unison.
“Happened shortly after Talib went to the pros,” Cafrey said. “We weren’t about to bring him down with that news. If he ever found out, it’d have to be through his own investigating.”
“You think us cold, love? For not breathing a word of it?” Baron studied Misha’s face closely.
“I don’t.” She shook her head before staring down at her hands. “I don’t, it’s just… I think he needs to know it if he doesn’t already.” Memory carried her back to the Conrad Cove visit. “I think regardless of how he might deny it, he could have been open to some sort of relationship with his father. Whatever it may have been.” She shuddered and moved to warm her hands around her tea mug. “Leaving that possibility open in his mind…it’s not right.”
“You know him best, love.” Cafrey’s brows rose in a skeptical manner. “But I know I don’t have the strength to do it. Baron?”
Baron shook his head toward his younger brother and then toward Misha.
She’d known the chore would rest at her feet before the brothers even admitted their unwillingness to follow through on the task. Of course she had no desire to be the bearer of more ugliness when they’d already faced so much. But better now than later, she acknowledged while squaring her shoulders. She wanted it all behind them. She wanted no dark clouds from old storms looming over the happiness they’d been so blessed to find again.
Talib worked well past lunch from his Uncle Baron’s study. There were only a mere two hours left before dinner but Misha decided that her fiancé could use a break. Therefore, she used that excuse, along with some of Serena’s homemade oatmeal cookies and ale, to visit the study where she found him jotting notes and inputting data to his laptop.
“May I interrupt?” she called after knocking softly and waiting for him to look up.
The serious expression shading his features vanished like mist when he saw her. Waving once, he tossed his pen to the desk and leaned back to watch Misha walk in with the tray she carried.
“Need help?” he offered, smiling when she used her hip to bump the heavy door shut.
“I got it.” She was just setting the cookies and ale on a clear spot on the desk when Talib tugged her to his lap.
“Thanks for that—” he slanted a stare toward the tray “—but I prefer this.” He murmured next to her skin. His mouth was already trailing upward to nuzzle her earlobe.
Misha bit her lip, lashes fluttering uncontrollably as his touch affected her. For a few sweet seconds she allowed herself to forget why she’d come.
Talib’s mouth was busy surveying the sensitive area behind Misha’s ear. His fingers, meanwhile, conducted their own survey of the buttons along the cream cashmere sweater she wore. He’d undone several before her hand closed over his.
“You should have something.” She made an airy gesture toward the cookies and heard his chuckles vibrate against her.
“That’s what I’m interested in right now, love.”
She moaned and unconsciously arched into his exploring touch. “You didn’t eat.”
“I will.”
The growling intensity of the phrase had Misha thinking he was intending on something other than food to dine upon. She pulled at his hand.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
Slowing his moves across her skin, Talib’s expression regained a little of its earlier seriousness.
He cupped her chin, preventing her from looking elsewhere. “What is it?”
“I’m always coming to you with something ugly.” She felt his hand tighten on her hip.
Every Chance I Get Page 14
