by Olivia Gates
Her cry cut his tirade off. “How can you love me? No one has ever loved me, starting with my parents, even before I got messed up. Don’t you see my scars? Didn’t you see them back then? Is your pity so strong? Or does it somehow turn you on?”
He reeled under the brunt of her words, jerked when her hand convulsed on his arm. “Just say you’re punishing me. I deserve it, for all the horrible things I once said to you.”
She thought—She felt—Deus! All those doubts, those feelings of worthlessness, hidden, festering inside her.
Those people who’d plagued her early life had far more to answer for than he’d ever thought. The bastards had scarred her.
Yet they hadn’t destroyed her. She’d surmounted her inner and outer scars and remade herself, become a magnificent human being and a force for good, the center of his existence.
But did what she’d just said mean she thought she was unworthy of his love and not the other way around? Was that why she’d believed he’d had ulterior motives in marrying her?
Of all the irony. She thought she couldn’t inspire abiding emotions in him when that had always been his fear, his agony.
But after all they’d been through, after all the love he’d shown her, what more could he say that she wouldn’t warp to reinforce her insecurity and drive her away?
He could think of nothing to say. Nothing, but everything.
He reached for her limp hand, prayed his confessions would heal her, let him into her trust and into her heart. He would convince her, even if it took the rest of his life.
Jewel watched words crowding on Roque’s face and her world came to a grinding halt. He was about to tell her the truth.
Please, let it be anything but a reiteration of his love declaration.
“You were eighteen when I first saw you.” His voice was a bass, bone-permeating caress, the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. “It was just a few months after I arrived in the States and you were with your father at the opening of a wing in the hospital. You were the most breathtaking sight I’d ever seen.”
She closed her eyes, trying and failing to hold back tears. He brushed them away, coaxed her eyes open. “I inched my way behind you and your every gesture and word appealed to everything in me. I followed you from then on, kept falling deeper for you. I longed to approach you, but I had to be realistic. You were too young. And I had so much to prove before I could dream of you. Then Michael started destroying my chances while at the same time pursuing you. The day you got engaged to him was agony. Then I discovered Michael was cheating on you, regularly, and I had to intervene. Then you had your accident. Deus, Jewel, I can never describe the horror I felt for you.”
“So it was pity.” The resigned conclusion escaped her. His eyes were filled only with overwhelming compassion. So now she knew.
She found she could move even with her heart ruptured. She had to leave, disappear, for ever this time. But his arms caught her in a tight embrace and she couldn’t bear it.
She cried out. “Just stop. I have nothing to be pitied for, not even then. You were wrong to pity me, so just stop, please, stop.”
He stemmed her indignant protest in a hard kiss, then caught her face in both hands, forced her to look at him. “It was a pity to see how right I was about those people supposedly close to you. It shredded me to see you so undeservedly hurt, in so many ways. What I felt was rage against those who hurt you far more than the hit-and-run driver did, and overpowering compassion for your pain. And passion. I desired you even more the more I watched your heroic efforts to get back on your feet unaided. I tried to stand by you, but you shunned me, out of misplaced loyalty to Michael. Then you set a wedding date and I couldn’t wait any more. I had to claim you for myself…”
She’d been listening in stunned awe—until his last sentences, and she couldn’t bear not putting him straight.
“I shunned you,” she gasped, “because I couldn’t bear for you to see me after the accident. I set a wedding date because I was feeling guilty over wanting you, because I thought you immoral for disregarding my engagement and pursuing me, thought Michael deserved better, especially since he didn’t abandon me like everyone else did. But I couldn’t go through with it, went to tell him I couldn’t marry him when I felt this way about you, and I found him in bed with another woman. He’d been using me as a bridge to my parents all along. It was a relief to find it out. I walked out and straight into your arms.”
His gaze had been filling with wonder as she’d talked, but that was quickly supplanted by resignation. “I tried to offer you all the love and support that would heal you, but I can see now how wrong I was to rush you into a commitment then. I should have remained by your side, let you rebuild and heal yourself at your own pace. But I pressured you and paid for it. I felt our marriage was like quicksand. The more I showed you how much I was committed to making our relationship work, the more you slipped away. Then you got pregnant and I was so blinded by joy that I didn’t see how miserable you were. Then you lost the baby, became even harder to reach, and we had that confrontation, and it was far worse than my worst fears.”
Her heart had long stopped. To listen to his revelations, to try to absorb their glory—and agony. Now it punished her, pummeling her ribcage at the sight of his face closing, warding off the blow of resurrected anguish.
“It brought back the degradation of my mother’s existence and my own in L.A. in the circles of the rich and bored. I had women pursuing me for nothing but lust and vicious competition, and at first I didn’t understand. I didn’t have much experience then, as I’d never had the time for women or anything else, studying and working myself to the bone since I was eight, providing for my mother, sparing her, since I was twelve. Then I understood and it sickened me. But you were different. I believed in you and even more so for clinging to your commitments, no matter how misplaced. Hearing you tell me you were no better than those women, that you just used me…”
“I didn’t. “ The denial sheared her. “I lied. I was just hurting so much I wanted to hurt you.”
He closed his eyes, gripped the hands that flailed for him, lowered them in a vise on his knees. “And you did. Deus, how you did. Then, after the pain subsided to a constant ache, I’d one moment tell myself you didn’t mean it, that it was a backlash at the cruelty and pain you’d suffered, that I should let you continue the growth that they’d stunted, let you heal without me, without props. The next moment I wasn’t so lucid, which was most of the time, and I was plain humiliated and mad at you.”
She choked on a cry and his hands convulsed around hers, then gentled, caressed their backs, his eyes intent on the action. “It wasn’t all bad. It did boost my drive to prove myself and I took the years to do just that, always keeping an eye on you. Then I took over the expedition and decided to pursue you again to get you out of my system.”
Yes—yes, that was a reason she could live with, that would give her more time with him, wouldn’t end up with him hurt.
He raised his eyes and destroyed that hope. “But it wasn’t how it worked out. You caught me again. For ever this time.”
It was… too huge. Too horrible. What had she ever done to deserve his love? Tears burned their way out of her eyes. “But you couldn’t have loved me. I was an empty, stupid girl, then a self-pitying, scarred mess. How could you have loved the horrible sight I made, how can you love me now?” Her hands slipped from under his, one jerking the cover to her body, the other to the healed wounds on her face, self-consciousness wringing her heart dry. “You can’t. Just tell me you don’t.”
His eyes followed her actions, then suddenly snapped to hers, vehement opals. Then he exploded off the bed.
“You win, Jewel. It seems I have my limits and you just pushed me to them. You came for answers and you got the only ones I have. Either you believe me or not, either you take my answers or leave them. Leave me to finally get on with my life!” That had been bellowed.
She looked up at him, th
e man who meant far more than life, bore the brunt of his fury and realized. She was healed.
Any other time she would have assigned the most twisted intention to his words and run away to lick her wounds. But now she believed every word he said. Every word he’d ever said.
It should have been her life’s most ecstatic moment.
She’d never known such misery existed.
But he was giving her a way out.
She’d take it, for his sake.
She rose from the bed, let the cover drop, searched his spacious, Spartan bedroom for the clothes he’d stripped off her when he’d swept her in here a lifetime ago.
She’d gathered them and was heading out of the room when he yanked her back to him, agitation setting his face ablaze.
“Deus, I’m sorry, Jewel. Don’t leave me. I didn’t mean it, I’m just—justs You need more convincing? What other motive could I have had, or have now, for wanting you, for saying I love you?”
He put her at arm’s length, razed her from head to toe with a devouring glance. “What more is there? Your scars? They were just another part of you. I looked at you and saw the woman I craved, touched you and your response drove me clear out of my mind. But when you sought so many corrective surgeries I thought you wanted to go back to your old world.” He ran a finger over her most prominent scar, his smile all embarrassed indulgence. “But I soon realized how stupid my suspicions were. And now I realize your physical scars were interfering with your psychological healing and you kept fixing your body until your outer image corrected the inner one.”
His eyes shifted color, as if with dawning insight. “But that’s not exactly it either, is it? I think your scars run so deep they’re independent of how you look on the surface. So what is it? Does knowing that you were restored surgically make you feel still damaged? Do you believe that being damaged physically means being unworthy of love? Would you stop wanting me if I got scarred now, lost an arm or a leg?”
The image tore through her and she couldn’t hold back, hugged him, warding off the horror. He hugged her back as fiercely. “Or did the bastards in your life convince you way before the accident that you’re unworthy of love anyway?” The rumble that escaped him made her believe that any of those “bastards” would be in danger if they ever crossed Roque’s path. “The parents who neglected their child, who valued her only as long as she complemented their image, who live for their whims and success, and all those who fill their circles are the worthless ones. And you can’t be more wrong. You’re everything that’s worthy, everything I can and do love, more than ever now you’ve become all that you can be. Though I know you will continue to grow and I’ll fall deeper in love with you. If you’ll let me.”
Her tears were a stream now. If he loved her that much then he loved her as much as she loved him. He’d be devastated when she left. It was still the lesser evil than if she stayed. She pushed out of his arms.
He groaned. “What now, Jewel? Have mercy!”
It was time to have mercy on both of them.
She shook, hiccupped. “I should have told you before, I would have if I’d even suspected you loved me—but I thought it wouldn’t matter to you as I thought you never would…”
“What?” His growl was stressed, fractured. “Just tell me!”
“I may be fixed on the surface, but my internal injuries” She gulped then blurted it out. “I can’t have babies!”
She struggled with suffocation, but had to go on. Explain it all. “When I lost our baby they told me I’d never carry a baby to viability, that with the scarring in my uterus and ovaries there was over a ninety percent chance I’d never get pregnant again anyway. I was so devastated I couldn’t bear for you to know. I begged the doctors not to tell you. Then you told me you wanted more children, had to have them, as—as is your right. And I guess I went mad…”
He stared at her for a heart-bursting eternity.
Then he laughed!
She was debating which of them had lost their mind when he hauled her to him and pressed kisses all over her face. “Ah, minha Jóia, my jewel, my joy. That’s why you thought it was OK to make love without protection. And I’ve been torturing myself with nightmares of you being a promiscuous femme fatale.”
“Some femme fatale, who only ever had one lover.” She smothered the confession in his chest.
A shudder ran through him then he went still. A hard-breathing moment later he raised her streaming face, his eyes wide with such wonder, relief, humility—and, oh, God, so much love. “Next you’ll tell me you never had other lovers because you always loved me, too, and I’ll die of a happiness overdose.”
His hand dug into her hair, a gentle tug bringing her eyes up to his, his breathing ragged. “I don’t care if you can’t have children. I don’t care at all.”
“Oh, God—don’t! You don’t mean that. You cared before. You told me how much you care.” She raised her voice, stopping his objection. “And even if you may mean it now, you’ll care later. I saw how you looked at the baby we delivered, I understand more than ever now why it’s vital for you of all men to have a family.”
“You’re my family. I looked with longing at that baby because you were holding her. I want to have a child only if you can have one. We can try, and if you can’t we can find a surrogate mother to carry our baby.”
“It would be your baby alone. It’s most probable I don’t have healthy enough eggs…”
“I’m not having a child with another woman. If you can’t have one even this way, we’ll adopt. Or not. I only want you. Believe that. I only ever wanted you!”
Sobs were now shaking her so hard she had to cling to him to remain upright. He clung back. “How do you know I can have children any more? Even with all the precautions, I’ve been exposed to tons of radiation during my experiments. What if we run tests and find out you can have children now and I can’t? Would you leave me? Would you want me to leave you, thinking it was best for you?”
Her head thrashed in denial. He pressed her harder, shaking as hard now as she was. “Do you know what I thought when I looked at that baby? That if you had my baby it would prove you loved me. All I ever wanted was to know you loved me. And even now, I don’t know if you do. You never told me, and now you want to leave me again…”
Sudden power surged into her, bringing her useless arms around him, protecting, absorbing his torment, confessing all. She put her lips to his chest and poured everything she felt for him, hoping it would pour right inside, fill him with peace. “Love is too small a word, an emotion—it’s nothing to what I feel for you. I worship you—even when I was unfit to know my own mind. My insecurity wasn’t born of my scars or my parents’ indifference or people’s exploitation, it was of being unable to believe my luck that you should want me, of the misery of knowing I can’t give you everything you deserve.”
“Just give me yourself, say you’ll be my wife, for real and for ever, minha Jóia.” She shook her head and her tears splashed on his naked chest, mingled with his. “You’re so afraid of not giving me what I deserve? Don’t I deserve the right to know what I need? A lifetime with the only woman I can love? Don’t I deserve some mercy?”
“Only if you promise me, if one day you change your mind, you won’t stay with me out of loyalty or compassion…”
He suddenly let her go, left her staggering as he stalked over to his jeans. He put them on with precise movements then turned to her. “Fine, I promise that if one day the paternal urge gets too much, I’ll dump you.”
She’d just asked him for just that, but to hear him putting it in words—God!
He was going on. “Of course, since having children involves a female, and I won’t have you raising my child from another woman, I’d have to marry one so she’d raise her own children with me. But since fate has already handed me my soul-mate, any other woman would be a crushing disappointment—at best. Then, when she felt how atrociously wanting I found her in comparison to you, she’d turn into a
vindictive harpy who’d turn the kids I left you to have into loathsome brats who hate my guts. And I would end up leaving them and coming back to you.” He raised his eyes to her. “So, as I’m bound to end up with you anyway, why don’t you just save us the time and hassle?”
She stared at him, stunned.
One daunting eyebrow rose, a taunt defying her to find a response. And she did the last thing she could have expected she would do in this heart-rending situation. She burst out laughing.
He watched her helpless fit, his lips twitching, his eyes still wary. Then he folded his arms on his expansive chest and cocked his head at her. “And while we’re at it, why don’t you come here and coax me a bit? I’ve been running after you for twelve years, I demand at least twelve minutes of pursuit in return.”
It was too much. Too much. Her sobering eyes told him how much, told him everything as she whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Inferno, you maddening, devastating, heartbreaking woman. Just love me.”
And she ran to him, knew she’d never stop running to him, as long as he wanted her. She was beginning to believe he’d never stop. She did believe he’d never stop.
He bolted out of reach, evaded her, made her run after him around the almost empty and huge room. With every parry, every burst of speed to capture him, every flash of joy on his beloved face, she felt all her worries dwindling, everything taking a fading back seat to the one thing that mattered. That she did the bidding of her man, that she simply loved him.
She had to catch him first.
He didn’t let her for those twelve minutes he’d demanded. And then they were over and he stood there and let her pounce on him, let her drag him to bed, push him there and come down over his lazily sprawled magnificence.
“You’re very lenient, you know?” she panted, smiling her heart out down on him, soaking up his blazing love. “I would have run after you for the rest of the night. I’d run for twelve years in atonement if you want me to.”
