‘I’m not.’
‘You are.’ He heard her smile in her voice. ‘You’re just a great big chicken.’
He drew in his breath. How to answer that one?
With the truth. ‘I’d rather be a chicken than a squashed hen.’
‘There’s a brave prince.’ She chuckled. ‘Is that your royal creed? “He who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.’”
‘It has a whole lot going for it.’ It was surreal. Lying in the dark, talking to her as if nothing was between them.
Only these damned cushions!
‘Seriously, though…’
‘Seriously what?’
‘Why don’t you let yourself love…Belle?’
Because I’ve never been the least bit tempted to love Belle, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Whereas you…
But he had to give her a reasonable answer. An answer he thought was the truth. ‘I’ve told you before. I don’t do love.’
‘Because you might get hurt?’ Her voice was carefully neutral.
‘Because I will get hurt. Eventually. Or you…or Belle would. Nothing lasts for ever.’
‘So…’ She’d forgotten to whisper. Her voice was curious now. Nothing more. ‘So when you’re designing buildings, you’re planning on them lasting a thousand years?’ she asked.
‘Like your fences?’ He smiled into the dark. ‘Nope. You’re the master builder in that direction.’
‘So how long would a building of yours last-on average, say?’
He didn’t understand what she was getting at. ‘I’d like to think a hundred years.’ He shrugged. ‘But probably only forty. Maybe less.’
‘But you still think it’s worthwhile building them.’
Damn. He’d walked straight into her trap. And the cushions weren’t high enough!
‘Buildings are different,’ he managed.
‘I imagine they are,’ she said softly. ‘Different to relationships. But in some ways they’re the same. If they only last for forty years they can still be incredibly wonderful while they last.’ She frowned then, and he heard the frown in the dark. He was starting to know her so well…
‘You lost Lissa,’ she said gently. ‘You said she was your best friend. Today you told me about teaching her to swim when you were kids. If you had your time again, would you choose not to have that time with her? Because she might die?’
‘That’s none of your business.’ She was cutting too close to the bone here.
‘I’m just interested.’
‘Well, stop being interested. Go to sleep.’
Ha! That was a good one. How could they possibly sleep?
‘I don’t think you’re being fair on Belle-that’s all.’ She was still probing, right where it hurt most. ‘I think marriage is all about loving someone to bits.’
‘Like your father’s and mother’s marriage?’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Isn’t it?’
‘At least they took a chance,’ she said, and now she sounded angry. ‘At least they tried. They didn’t lock themselves up in some antiseptic world in case the big bad love-bug bit them so hard it hurt. So, yes, they loved and, yes, it did hurt. My mother made a bad marriage but she had four kids and she had a life. And she loved my dad to bits, even if he was a loser. She loved him and even when she knew she was dying, I suspect she never regretted a thing.’
‘Apart from leaving you all.’
‘We had her,’ Penny-Rose said strongly. ‘We had her for enough time to love her and be proud to be her kids. Even Michael has the stories we tell about her, and the knowledge that he was loved. You think we’d abandon that love or not embrace it in the first place because we knew she’d die? If you do, then you don’t know what way your head is screwed on, Alastair de Castaliae.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake…’
‘There’s no “for heaven’s sake” about it. You loved Lissa. You should try loving Belle.’
‘I can’t love Belle.’
There. He’d said it. It hung between them, almost as big a barrier as the cushions.
‘Then don’t marry her.’
‘I’m married to you.’
‘No, you’re not,’ she said reasonably. ‘You can’t be married to someone when there’s two feet of cushions between them. That someone refuses to be married on that basis. This is pretend, Alastair.’
‘I… Yes.’
‘But you and Belle aren’t pretending.’
‘We don’t need to,’ he said, exasperated. ‘It’s a business arrangement.’
‘But…’ She reflected on this for a moment. ‘You’re not paying her.’
‘No.’
‘And you’re intending to have kids?’
‘Maybe. Yes! I’ll need an heir.’
‘Poor little heir,’ she said softly. ‘I hope Marguerite loves it enough for all of you.’
‘I’ll love it.’
‘No.’ Penny-Rose shook her head, and anger vibrated harshly in her voice. ‘How can you? Because that’s commitment, too. That’s risking your precious independence, and you don’t want that.’
‘Rose…’
‘It’s Penny-Rose. And what?’ she said crossly.
‘Can we go to sleep?’
‘How can I go to sleep?’ she demanded. ‘How can I sleep when I’ve had such a wonderful, wonderful day, and I’ve learned to swim and I’ve seen dolphins and I’m now lying in bed wide awake beside the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met and…and you expect me to sleep?’
Silence.
Hell, she was feeling the same as he was!
‘I…’
‘You took a cold shower,’ she said carefully. ‘I know. The bathroom didn’t steam. You think my bath was hot?’
‘Rose-’
‘This is impossible,’ she snapped. ‘Cold showers aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. I’m going nuts, and there’s twelve months to go. You’d better take me home to your castle and dig a few moats. Right through the middle of the castle. And fill the moats with alligators-with you on one side and me on the other. Because this year’s getting out of hand already.’
Alastair tried reason. ‘Rose, if we’re sensible-’
And that was enough for her. She sat up, and in the dim light he could see her eyes flashing with temper. ‘Why the hell do we need to be sensible?’
‘Because…’
‘Because why?’ A cushion tumbled toward her and she lifted it and hurled it to the other side of the room. ‘Stupid cushion.’
‘Rose-’
‘Don’t “Rose” me.’ She was so angry she was almost spitting. ‘OK. Here’s the truth. I didn’t want to do this-I didn’t want to tell you-but it’s too much for me to hide and I can’t go around like you-an ostrich with my head in the sand-for twelve months.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
But he did.
‘You can’t feel this thing between us?’
‘No!’
‘Liar.’
The word hung in the air between them. A threat…
The truth.
And then she’d had enough. She took a deep breath and she said what she’d promised not to say. Whatever the outcome, it had to be said.
‘I love you, Alastair de Castaliae,’ she said, and her anger was all around them. She was furious with him. She was also furious with herself for betraying what she hadn’t wanted to reveal. But there was suddenly no choice.
He was so close.
And there were these stupid cushions!
Another cushion went flying.
‘I love you,’ she repeated. ‘I know. It’s stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But you picked me up and rescued me from a life of poverty, you took me to Paris and fed me snails and cheeses and strawberries, you bought me the sexiest knickers a girl could ever have-and then refused to look at them. And you rescued me from traffic and you gave me the most gorgeous dog…’
That was a good one. The most gorgeous dog…
‘Shut up.’ She glowered. ‘Just listen. And then you take my little brother as your best man and you stand there in your gorgeous suit and you smile at me, and you make those vows! And you give me copestones for a wedding present. Damn, a girl would have to be abnormal to ignore that, and I’m not abnormal. I’m truly, madly, deeply in love with you. So there. I’ve said it. You can do with it what you like, Your Serene Stupid Highness. Like it or lump it.’
Her breath caught on a sob. ‘And you needn’t worry that it changes anything. At the end of the year I’ll still walk away as I promised. But for what it’s worth, you should know what you’re letting go. You have a wife. I might not be the wife you planned, but I’m a wife all the same. Not a pretend wife, Alastair. I’m a wife who loves you so much it hurts, and who’s given you her heart and who doesn’t expect a single thing in return.’
And she flung herself over onto her breast and buried her face in her remaining pillows.
And then she sat up again and swallowed. The situation was impossible and somehow she had to strive for lightness.
‘Except another swimming lesson tomorrow,’ she managed, while Alastair stared at her in open-mouthed amazement. ‘I do expect that. You know, this doesn’t mean anything has to change, but I thought you ought to know the facts-and the facts are that I’m yours. If you want me. But if you don’t want me then that’s OK, too. As long as I get to swim tomorrow.’
And that was the end of that.
She buried her head again, and Alastair sat staring down at her, trying to figure out what the hell to say.
What was there to say?
He could think of exactly nothing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ALASTAIR slept on the beach.
Or rather he tossed and turned on the beach. He’d taken a spare blanket and gone down to the sand. Back in the cottage, his wife’s body had been rigid. Her breathing had been even and measured but he’d known she hadn’t been asleep and there would have been no sleep for either of them if he’d stayed where he was.
So he’d left, and lay in the moonlight and listened to the waves gently lap the shore-and wondered what on earth he had done and where he could go from here.
Back to Rose, his body screamed at him. He had only to make the slightest move…
She…loved him?
Nonsense. That was impossible. Fantasy stuff. He’d let himself get too close, he told himself, and she was too alone in the world. She’d built him into something he couldn’t be.
He’d never pretended with her. She knew him…
She knew what she wanted to know. Love? It’d fade. Romantic love. Ha!
But…his mother and father had been in love, and their love had endured for over thirty years.
And then it had been shattered in one instant, he remembered bitterly. One drunken driver on a motorway and that love had been splintered into a thousand shards, each one capable of hurting to death…
His mother had shrivelled since his father’s death. And so had he.
Lissa had accepted a ride from Paris with Alastair’s father, and the two had been wiped out in milliseconds. Love lost…
Love found? Rose was back in their cottage, waiting. Waiting for her husband.
All he had to do was take her, he thought savagely. It would be so easy. To accept her love.
But he was incapable of giving that love in return. Because he knew that giving meant pain. He couldn’t… He just couldn’t expose himself to that sort of pain again! No matter how desirable she was, he couldn’t take that last final step. He couldn’t depend on her for his sanity.
And he surely would depend on her if he let himself believe in her loving. It would be so easy to lay his life in her sweet hands.
To love and lose… That was the way of madness!
So he was better here, under the stars. For twelve months, if necessary. For however long it took for this strange marriage to run its course.
Penny-Rose came to find him just before dawn.
He was half awake, half asleep, and his dark form was a mere shadow on the sand. She came flying down to the beach and almost fell over him. As he reached up and steadied her, she fell to her knees.
‘Alastair…’
And all of a sudden things had changed. There was no hint of the passion-or the anger-of the night before. There was only fear in her voice, and the fear was raw and real.
‘What is it?’ He was sitting up, and she was kneeling, still in the lovely negligee of last night, her curls tumbled and wild and her eyes huge in the pre-dawn light.
‘Alastair…’
‘Just say it.’
‘Alastair, it’s your mother.’
Marguerite had had a heart attack. The call had come through to the resort, and the manager had come to the cottage to break the news.
‘My…my husband’s gone for a dawn walk,’ Penny-Rose had managed. ‘Just tell me what’s wrong, and I’ll find him.’
So now she told Alastair what the manager had told her.
‘Marguerite went back to Paris the day after we were married,’ she explained gently. ‘But apparently she’s had chest pains, and they’ve been growing worse. Finally she made an appointment to see her local doctor, but by the time she reached him it was a full-stage heart attack. She’s in Intensive Care.’
‘I’ll go.’ Alastair was rising, and Penny-Rose was right there with him.
‘I’ll come with you.’
But Alastair was no longer seeing her. His thoughts were only on his mother. ‘I’ll find the manager and see how fast I can get back to Paris.’
Getting back to Paris was easier said than done. The supply boat pulled into the island once a week, bringing the guests from the mainland. Otherwise they came by helicopter.
‘And the hire chopper’s out of action,’ the manager said apologetically. By the time Penny-Rose and Alastair reached his office, he’d already made enquiries on their behalf. ‘The engine’s being reconditioned. I’m afraid it’s useless until Thursday.’
‘That’s two days.’ Alastair took a deep breath. ‘You mean there’s no way I can get off the island until then? I can pay the boat.’
‘The boat does the rounds of the islands. It’ll take at least a day to get back here. But if I could make a suggestion…’
‘Anything.’
‘One of the outer islands is owned by a reclusive fisherman.’ The manager gave a deprecating smile. ‘A rich, reclusive fisherman. He’s somewhat of an eccentric. He lives alone and doesn’t socialise. But he owns his own helicopter.’
Alastair frowned. ‘Will he rent it out?’
‘Maybe, but it only holds one passenger.’ The manager cast an apologetic glance at Penny-Rose. ‘And while I might be able to persuade him to make a mercy dash for one, I doubt he’d take kindly to doing more.’
‘That’s fine. It’s only me that’s going.’
‘But…’ Penny-Rose flinched. ‘Alastair, I need to go with you.’
‘There’s no room,’ he said briefly. ‘And no need either.’
He didn’t need her. Of course he didn’t. Penny-Rose’s face tightened. But it was Marguerite she was worried about. Wasn’t it?
Damn it, she was worried about both of them. And if anything happened to Marguerite and she wasn’t by Alastair’s side…
‘I’d still like to come.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t, ma’am,’ the resort manager apologised. ‘At least, not straight away.’ He lifted the telephone and looked enquiringly at Alastair. ‘The plane from Suva to Europe leaves at nine this morning. That means there’s very little time. If I make fast arrangements I can have you on it.’
‘Do it,’ Alastair growled. He turned and found Rose watching him. She looked…
Hell, she looked like she’d been kicked. And like she was expecting to be kicked again.
He couldn’t resist then. He put a hand out to trace the outline of her cheek, and if it had been meant to comfort her, then who could blame him if he took a modicum of comfort himself? ‘Have a wonderful time. Come back when they leave.’
‘You don’t want me.’
‘I don’t…need you.’
And that was that.
‘Belle?’
‘Alastair…’ It was early evening in Paris.
Alastair telephoned Belle’s cellphone while he sat in the departure lounge at Suva, and she answered on the first ring. There was a party of some sort in the background. He could hear laughter and voices and the clink of glasses…
‘Alastair, what is it?’
Briefly he outlined what had happened, and she was horrified.
‘Oh, Alastair, that’s dreadful. You poor darling…’
He didn’t want sympathy for himself. That was the last thing he needed. He wanted tangible help.
‘Belle, she’s alone. You know we have no family in Paris, and my only aunt’s in Yorkshire and too frail to travel. It’ll take me twenty-four hours to get there. Please…can you go to her?’
‘Visit her in hospital, you mean.’
‘Yes,’ he said gratefully. ‘Belle, I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you stay with her until I get there? I can’t bear to think of her being alone. Of her being in pain…’
‘Of course I’ll go, darling.’ He heard her pause and speak an aside to someone in the background, and then she came on the line again. ‘Sorry about that. Damn clients. Just tell me what hospital she’s in and as soon as my guests leave I’ll go.’
‘Not now?’
‘Alastair, these are important clients-’
He said something exceedingly rude about the clients.
She didn’t appreciate it. ‘Alastair! There’s no need to be coarse. I’ll go as soon as I can.’
And that was all he could do.
A Royal Proposition Page 16
