Undone by His Touch

by Annie West

  Declan shut his eyes, his sinews stiffening and hands clenching into iron fists. He wished he could shut out the pain in her voice. Wished he could shut out the crushing weight of hurt inside.

  ‘Why, Declan?’ Her demand snapped his eyes open and he drank in the sight of her pain. Anguish filled him.

  He was torn asunder between the two people who’d meant most to him.

  He’d failed them both and he couldn’t make it right.

  Declan shied from her touch as she reached for him. Ice clamped his nape and chilled his veins.

  ‘Because it’s that or believing the worst of Adrian.’ The words grated out. His heart catapulted against his ribs as he confronted the unthinkable.

  ‘I either accept that he had an affair that went wrong, or …’ he hefted a difficult breath into lungs that didn’t seem to work any more ‘… believe the brother I knew and loved was a stalker who made you fear for your life.’ Declan’s voice cracked as pain splintered inside.

  He dragged an unsteady hand through his hair. His chest felt like it would explode from the strain of holding in erupting emotions.

  ‘You ask me to believe my kid brother turned into a monster?’ He shook his head. ‘I knew him, Chloe! That wasn’t Adrian.’ His fist thumped the console and pain streaked through him, but not enough to counteract the horror he faced.

  ‘I know I frightened you with my accusations that you drove him to suicide. I overreacted, so of course you didn’t want to admit the relationship.’ The words scraped from his dry throat. ‘But I can’t believe the worst of him.’

  Depression was one thing. Victimising an innocent something entirely different. That was not his brother.

  Through a haze he eventually registered Chloe’s stricken expression. Slowly she unclipped her seatbelt. Her gaze was dimmed, cloudy, as if some inner light had died.

  His fault, his conscience screamed. No matter how hard he tried to make it right, his miasma infected her too.

  ‘You’re grieving, Declan. You feel you’re to blame for his death. You’re letting grief and bitterness blind you.’

  Declan groped for a response but words were beyond him. He held himself together only by sheer will power.

  She leaned nearer. Declan was hemmed in, trapped by her gaze and the words he didn’t want to hear.

  ‘I know what I’m talking about. I felt like that for a long time when my husband died—that it was my fault for not realising sooner he should be in hospital. That it was down to me he’d died. Or, if not me, the hospital staff.’

  ‘This isn’t the same.’ He could barely get the words out. One unwary move and he’d crack in two.

  ‘It is.’ The subtle scent of vanilla filled his nostrils, teasing him with Chloe’s nearness. ‘Until you face your guilt and grief, they’ll never let you go. They’ll tie you up so your emotions grow stunted and you find yourself living a half life. That’s what happened to me.’

  She lifted her hand to him. Her fingers stopped mere centimetres from his cheek and he sucked in a laboured breath. If she touched him …

  ‘You’ve got enough scars from that day.’ Her gaze rested on the stiff line of scar tissue that was an ever-present reminder of his failure. ‘Don’t carry more than you need to.’

  Moments ticked by, measured by the searing pain of each breath as her gaze searched his face and he fought for strength against the temptation of her words.

  He didn’t deserve absolution. She asked too much. If he’d been a better brother, Ade would still be alive.

  Finally he shook his head. ‘Finished?’ The word reflected all the searing pain within.

  Her hand dropped. ‘No.’ She regarded him steadily. ‘I don’t hate your brother for what he did, though he scared me. I feel sorry for him. He was ill.’ She paused. ‘But most of all I feel sorry for you, Declan, because you’re too scared to let go and see what’s before your eyes.’

  Chloe’s mouth twisted. ‘I love you, Declan. That’s what you’re too blind to see.’

  Declan’s heart missed a beat as he stared into her taut features. Surely he was hearing things?

  ‘I cut myself off from the world because of grief and because I was too scared to leave myself open to hurt again.’ Her words were so soft he had to strain to hear. ‘But you came along and provoked me into love. Seduced me into it. And I can’t crawl back into my safe little world again.’

  Chloe’s voice wobbled and he wanted to reach out and ease the pain written across her face. Pain he’d put there.

  His fingers stretched out but she leaned away, as far from him as possible.

  ‘I told myself I stayed out of pride but it was because I loved you, Declan. I couldn’t leave knowing how much pain you were in, not when there was a chance I could make you see the truth.’

  She hefted in a shuddering breath that tore at his soul. ‘But my love isn’t enough, not in the face of your distrust.’ She spread her palms wide.

  ‘I had no self-esteem as a kid, Declan. I was in foster care because my mum was a heroin addict who sold herself on the street for her next fix. I have no idea who my father was.’

  Declan’s heart cracked wide. ‘Chloe—’

  ‘No.’ She raised an imperious hand. ‘It took a long time and a lot of love for me to begin to believe in myself. To see that I was worth loving. And I am.’ Her chin tilted in that familiar way that made his heart clench.

  ‘I’ve loved you, Declan, but you’re no good for me. I need a man who believes in me unquestioningly. A man who knows I don’t lie. Not a man who thinks trusting me means disloyalty to his dead brother. I need a man who wants me, even when there’s no proof I’m innocent except my word.’

  The words slammed into him like projectiles, piercing him to the core. Because they were true.

  He’d been so wrapped up in his pain he’d hurt Chloe, even when he tried to do the right thing. Even with proof that she was the woman he’d first believed her to be, he’d clung to what was safe. What was comfortable—for him.

  What sort of caring was that?

  He opened his mouth to speak but she was too quick.

  ‘I’ll find my own way from here.’ Her tone stopped his instinctive grab for her. She snatched up her bag and pushed open the door. Her poise was brittle but determined.

  ‘Don’t come looking for me, Declan. Ever. It’s over. I never want to see you again.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHLOE stared at the manager’s name plate on the door and pushed back her shoulders.

  It was a week since she’d left Declan and still the world reeled out of focus around her.

  She’d been right to leave him. It would have been self-destructive to stay.

  So why did everything feel wrong? Pain paralysed her when she thought of his anguish and grief; whenever she thought of never seeing him again. She might have done the right thing but it felt like part of herself had been wrenched away in the separation. Part of her that belonged with him.

  But the world went on. Taking a fortifying breath, she knocked and was invited to enter.

  ‘Ms Daniels.’ The manager looked up with a smile. ‘This is a pleasure. You’ve saved me a call. I was planning to contact you about your foster father’s care.’

  Chloe’s heart plunged. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  At the other woman’s invitation she slid into a chair facing the desk. The office, like everything else in the facility, was welcoming and well cared-for. It would be hard to move Ted from here but she had no choice. With no reliable income she couldn’t afford it. Having emptied her savings to install Ted here, it was all she could do to keep a roof over her head in the tight rental market in the mountains. She’d discovered jobs were at a premium as well.

  ‘I wanted to warn you, Ted will be moving,’ she blurted out, her chest cramping with pain at what she had to do.

  ‘Really?’ The other woman’s eyebrows stretched up. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Chloe licked her lips, preparing to
explain, but the manager continued before she could speak. ‘I thought you were happy with the care here, especially after receiving this.’ She picked up a paper from a neat pile.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Chloe frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Wordlessly the manager passed over the paper. Letterhead danced before her eyes as she tried to focus. A familiar name appeared at the bottom of the page: David Sarkesian had signed it on Declan’s behalf.

  Heart pounding, Chloe stiffened in her seat, scanning the text. She gaped.

  ‘Declan Carstairs is footing the bill for Ted’s care?’

  ‘And for any extra therapy or medical expenses.’ There was a pause. ‘You didn’t know?’

  Dumbfounded, Chloe re-read the missive. ‘I had no idea.’

  What did it mean? Why should Declan pay the expenses of a man he’d never met?

  ‘Well.’ The other woman’s voice grew brisk. ‘I hope perhaps that changes your plans. The occupational therapist has seen promising changes in your foster father and wants to expand his program. I have the details here.’

  Declan stared out onto the vast lawn between Carinya’s shrubberies and the pool.

  In his mind’s eye he watched a chubby boy race across the grass, his grin triumphant as he retrieved a ball and hurled it at the cricket stumps.

  This was where he’d taught Adrian to play cricket, in those endless, dry summer holidays while their parents had been busy making more money and socialising in the city.

  He could almost hear the plock of ball against bat, the crow of delight as Adrian mastered his drive. The same triumphant cry he’d given when he’d perfected his tennis serve on the gravel court around the side, after weeks of Declan’s coaching. Or when, sinuous as an eel, he’d learned to somersault into the pool, creating a splash that would wet any unwary bystander.

  Declan’s mouth tilted up. Ade had always been utterly focused on each new achievement to the exclusion of all else. It was a trait that ran strong in the Carstairs men.

  But in Adrian, had that strength also been a weakness? How easily had that tendency for tunnel vision morphed into obsession with a woman, with a fantasy? Had it been easier to lose himself in that than face the destruction of the life he’d devoted himself to for years?

  Declan’s smile faded as he recalled his recent conversation with Ade’s ex-business partner in London. A woman who, he’d discovered, had rose-gold hair and ivory skin like Chloe. A woman who’d clammed up when asked about Adrian’s personal life, but who had admitted she’d been disturbed by his mood swings and increasing despondency.

  Declan shoved his hands in his pockets, fists tightening. Had Adrian fallen for her, the woman he’d worked closely with, and who was now so recently wed to a wealthy banker? Had Chloe merely been a reminder of the lover who’d dumped him? She could have been a convenient focal point for his thwarted feelings.

  Declan would never know.

  He wished things had been different. That he’d been able to intervene before Adrian had self-destructed. That regret would stay with him. But at least now he saw beyond it.

  Turning, his belly tightened as he surveyed the spotless kitchen. Even empty it was full of Chloe’s presence. He’d never seen her in this room, but like every other room in his home it was full of memories.

  He only had to close his eyes to hear her husky laugh as she argued with him over how much chilli was too much in his favourite curry. To smell the sugar and yeast aroma of her baking and the even more delectable vanilla-and-sunshine scent that was pure Chloe. He felt warmth, not from the sun’s rays, but from her presence.

  He’d been happy. It was here he’d first faced his desire to be with her. Was that why he’d rejected so violently any hint his sight was returning? Because change might threaten their fragile relationship?

  He’d hated the dark world of blindness but now … He surveyed the kitchen and emptiness welled.

  Now with his sight and vigour returned, secure in his world once more, he knew a desolation that tormented him and turned his haven into a soulless place. He longed for just one day without sight, basking in Chloe’s no-nonsense care, her tender concern, her love.

  He’d had her love and he’d destroyed it.

  His heart hammered and the bitter taste of self-disgust filled his mouth. He’d thrown away the most precious thing in the world, shoved aside the woman he should have cherished, not vilified.

  Hearing about her past, he’d been stunned by her strength and resilience and shamed by the knowledge of how he’d treated her.

  She was right to have left him.

  She was better off without him.

  He didn’t deserve her.

  Yet how could he go on without Chloe?

  He spun on his heel and strode out the door.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHLOE widened her stance on the tiled floor, trying to concentrate on the latest dinner orders. But her head was muzzy with exhaustion and her limbs felt heavy, aching with tiredness. Heat and the pungent odour of deep-fried food pressed down on her and in a sudden wave nausea hit again.

  Staggering, she reached for the water she kept handy. There was a crash, glass splintering across the floor and she grabbed desperately for the worktop, trying to keep her balance rather than step into the shattered glass.

  Her breath came in shallow pants as she fought back bile and tried to steady her spinning head.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ An angry baritone thundered from the door to the café’s dining room.

  Great. Just great. Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, trying to summon strength to deal with her irate employer. He’d been in a foul mood all day, particularly since her replacement for the afternoon shift hadn’t turned up, and he’d been taking out his ire on the overworked staff.

  If she didn’t need this job so badly, she’d have walked weeks ago.

  She urgently needed to put away some savings plus she had to repay Declan for Ted’s care. She hadn’t been proud enough to reject his offer to foot that bill. But she was proud enough not to want to be beholden to him in the long term. She couldn’t afford any ties to Declan.

  ‘I said,’ her boss bellowed, ‘What’s going on here?’

  Slowly she turned, forcing herself to stand tall, though every muscle in her body ached. She slid one hand over her empty stomach, trying to force down the need to retch in the thick, fat-filled air of the kitchen.

  ‘Just a broken glass.’ She looked down at the shards littering the floor and realised she hadn’t a hope of gathering them up. One unwary move and she’d either collapse or lose her battle with welling nausea.

  ‘I really need to leave,’ she found herself saying again. Only this time she’d make him understand. ‘My shift finished five hours ago and I’m exhausted.’ Not to mention she’d started the day well before that, cooking breakfasts in her other job in the kitchens of the mountains’ most exclusive guesthouse. ‘If I stay on, there are bound to be more accidents.’

  ‘Stop making excuses.’ He crossed beefy arms over his chest. ‘There’s no one else to cook. Just get on with it.’

  Chloe stifled a protest. She knew half a dozen other staff who’d willingly work the extra hours. But she suspected he’d have to pay them more. She’d been so desperate to find a job locally she’d only just begun to question her very low wage. Had he read her desperation and taken advantage of it?

  She untied her apron with fumbling fingers, then drew it over her head.

  ‘I told you, I can’t. I’m making too many mistakes. It’s dangerous.’ The sound of sizzling fat underscored her words and she turned to rescue an order of fish and chips.

  ‘Walk out on me and you lose your job,’ he snarled.

  Chloe faltered, her flesh chilling at his threat. She needed this income so badly.

  He paced towards her and automatically she stepped back into the corner. The look in his eye frightened her. She knew his temper …

  ‘Lay a finger on her and you’ll wish you’d
never been born.’ The lethally soft voice cut the thick air.

  Chloe’s head whipped round towards the door and shock froze her. Declan? Was she dreaming about him when she was awake now, as well as in her sleep?

  Her boss dropped his beefy arm and swung round.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’

  Declan stepped into the kitchen, letting the swing door close behind him. Instantly the room shrank. ‘I’m the man who’ll see you treat Ms Daniels right.’

  Two more steps and he stood toe-to-toe with her boss. He looked down into that florid, choleric face while the other ranted.

  ‘Enough.’ One powerful hand sliced through the air and, remarkably, her boss’s tirade stopped. Chloe swayed and groped for support.

  Ebony eyes cut to her, seeming to take in everything from her stained black trousers and fitted T-shirt to the feelings she couldn’t hide: disbelief, excitement and sheer exhaustion.

  Declan’s voice, glacial as she’d never heard it, penetrated her hazy brain: words like ‘assault’, ‘threatening behaviour’, ‘exploitation’, ‘official reports’ …

  She told herself she could fight her own battles. She’d been doing that all her life, but right now merely staying upright was challenge enough.

  ‘Don’t move.’ His voice pulled her up short when she would have shuffled to one side.

  Looking down, she saw Declan’s dark head, his long fingers gathering up wickedly sharp fragments of glass and depositing them in an old container.

  The scene seemed unreal. If she dropped one hand she’d touch his thick, dark hair, feel the strength of his broad shoulder beneath her palm.

  Chloe wanted to so badly. She blinked back hot tears as emotions bombarded her. Why couldn’t he stay away as she’d demanded? It didn’t matter that she’d regretted it ever since. That despite the need for self-preservation she didn’t feel whole without Declan.

  She’d saved her sanity and her self-respect but in leaving him she’d left part of herself behind.

  ‘Don’t cry, Chloe.’ His voice was husky and his eyes fathomless as he looked up at her.