Carides's Forgotten Wife

by Maisey Yates

So she had gone back into hiding. But it had done her no earthly good. She had gone back into hiding, putting her head down, hoping that someday she could convince Leon to care for her, too.

  But why would anyone care for a pale little crustacean hiding inside a shell? One that didn’t even act like it wanted to see the sun.

  But she did now. She wanted to have the warmth of it bathe her bare skin. Here and now out in the garden she wanted the sun to touch her skin; she wanted Leon to touch her skin. And who cared about the consequences?

  She had nothing to lose. She had given him her heart years ago and had never gotten it back. She had already been broken by him, broken into tiny pieces so many times it was a miracle she hadn’t been blown away by the breeze.

  She wouldn’t be. She resolved that then and there.

  She would become more. She would be filled. With her own desires. With him. She would be too substantial to blow away. Too substantial for anyone to ignore.

  She kissed him back. And like every kiss that had come before it, there was nothing simple to it. It tasted of years of longing, of missed opportunity, of grief and pain. But there was hope, too. Hope for more. Hope for absolutely everything, because the alternative was to exist in silence.

  She unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders, baring his chiseled body to her gaze. She placed her fingertips at the center of his chest, moving her hand over his heated skin.

  “Nothing is ever as good as you think it’s going to be,” she said, her throat tightening as she skimmed her touch down over his abs. “Fantasy is limitless. It’s also painless. You direct everything. You control all of the movements. Your very own composition.” She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “Reality doesn’t have a place in it. It’s like walking in the stars. Knowing that you can’t fall back down to the earth.”

  A rough growl rumbled in his chest. “You make it sound beautiful.”

  “It’s been most of my life. Safe and secure, dreams without consequences.” She pressed against the firm heat of his skin. “You never sweat. You never get dirty. You never get injured.” She leaned in, pressing her lips to his angular jaw. “And you never reach the heavens. Why walk in the stars when you can go so much higher?”

  “Because you might fall,” he responded.

  She nodded. “I might. We both might. I don’t care anymore.”

  She tilted her head, claiming his lips with hers. It was as reckless, as intense as she was. She vibrated with it. Her need, her desire, coursing along her veins. She raised her hands, grabbing hold of his face, holding him to her as she attempted to quench the thirst that only he could satisfy.

  She let her hands drift down to his belt buckle, and that was when she found the control wrenched away from her completely. He growled, reached down and gathering fistfuls of her dress, pushing it up over her hips before tugging it up over her head.

  That left her in nothing more than a lace bra and wispy panties, outside in the waning light. She never would have imagined she might do something like this. Ever.

  But Leon made her crazy. And she didn’t really mind.

  She was full with her feelings for him. With her need. Desperate for release.

  “Fall with me,” she said.

  “It might hurt.”

  She leaned in, pressing her lips to his. “Then we’ll be bruised together.”

  “My main concern is breaking you.”

  “I think we’re already both a little broken.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, splaying her hands over his back. “Maybe that’s why we fit so well.”

  “Just a couple of jagged pieces.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Except I fear I’m the one who broke you.”

  She fought against the dry, stinging press of tears putting pressure on the backs of her eyes. Denying this would be easy. Absolving him would be. She wanted to. For his conscience, if for no other reason. But he had broken her. Or at least, he had broken her heart. More times than she could count.

  “I think I needed to be broken,” she said finally. “So that I would finally start fighting.”

  She nipped his bottom lip, an echo of what she had done the last time they were together. When they had fought, and they had made love, and she had cried. That day she had been completely broken in her bedroom. Destroyed as she faced the realization that her husband had betrayed her.

  Destroyed as she realized she didn’t possess the capacity to be eternally patient. That perhaps she couldn’t be eternally forgiving. That, perhaps, in light of that she and Leon couldn’t make a future together.

  But now she felt like it might be different. Now they were out here in the sunlight together. And it really did feel new. Not because the past was a blank slate. Not because they were starting over. But because they were walking forward.

  Because the secret things had been dragged out into the light, and while some of them had proved to be monsters, now that she could see them, she could see how to fight them. Now that she had decided she would stand up and fight.

  “You’re going to fight me?” he asked, grabbing hold of her hair, tugging her head back so that she was forced to meet his gaze.

  “I don’t think I could win. In terms of brute strength I’m most definitely outmatched.” She fought against his hold, not minding the little pinpricks of pain that dotted her scalp as she did. She pressed her lips to his chest, scraping his nipple with her teeth.

  He jerked beneath her touch, growling like a feral beast. Appealing to the wild thing in her. “You plan to use other weapons then?”

  She looked up at him, and she smiled. She felt powerful. More powerful than she ever had in all her life. She felt his muscles shift beneath her touch and she scraped her fingernails across his abs, scoring his skin lightly.

  His expression was that of a man carved from stone, his entire body gone rigid beneath her touch. Suddenly, she was overcome with a desire to taste him. With the need for it.

  She leaned in, tracing a line down the center of his abs, tasting salt and skin and Leon. She was starving for him. She didn’t know how she would ever get enough.

  She had been with him when he didn’t have memories of who she was. She had been with him when she was angry. But this was different. This was different in every way.

  This time, when she put her hands on his belt buckle, he didn’t pull them away. This time he let her undo his belt, let her pull the zipper on his pants down, exposing himself to her. The breath rushed out of her lungs, desire replacing it.

  She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head of his arousal. He stiffened, grabbing hold of her hair again, pulling her away from him. “Don’t,” he said, his words hard.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t deserve that.”

  “Life isn’t about what we deserve. Sometimes it’s just about what people want to give. Or don’t. You were never my reward, Leon. And I’m not yours. This isn’t a reward. But it’s what I want. I want to taste you. I want to be filled with you. Let me.”

  She took him deep into her mouth then, his harsh groan of pleasure washing over her as she slid her tongue down his length.

  He clung tightly to her as she continued to pleasure him. As she gratified herself. Because she made him shake. Because he wanted this. Because he wanted her. Because there was a time when he had not wanted her enough to take her, when he had been able to resist.

  But that time wasn’t now.

  She tasted him until his thighs began to tremble, until his whole body was shaking with pleasure. And then, just as he was about to lose control completely, he pulled her away. He stripped her of the rest of her clothes and laid her down in the grass, the sun washing over her skin.

  He kissed her deep, hard, kissed her as he thrust deep inside her, joining his body to hers. There was a rock just beneath he
r shoulder blade, and it dug into her skin. She knew it would leave a mark. But it was perfect in a way. Because this wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t clean. It would leave a mark deep down in her soul, and she felt like her skin should bear the evidence of it, too.

  She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, urging him to go deeper, to go harder.

  His each and every thrust sent a shock of pleasure through her, and she refused to remain silent about it. She encouraged him, told him just how much she wanted him. Just how good he was.

  She gasped as her climax washed over her, shuddering out her pleasure as it consumed her completely.

  And as she lay there with him, naked, unashamed, exposed in the sunlight, she knew she could never go back to the way things had been. She knew she could never go back to being invisible.

  Right here in this place where her love for him had been cemented, she’d found something new. Love for herself. A need to have more than a quiet, nonconfrontational existence.

  Even the way she was planning to leave him had been too easy. Because even leaving him possessed no risk. Kept her hidden.

  Kept her from revealing just how much she cared for him.

  But here and now it was all laid out in the open. And she wasn’t ashamed.

  He rolled over, cupping her cheek. “It’s time for dinner. That is actually why I came to find you,” he said, his voice gruff.

  “I guess we had dessert first,” she said.

  He laughed. Genuine. Real. Balm for her soul. “I guess we did.” He pulled her close, his hands drifting over her curves, his touch hotter than the sun. “We should probably go in.”

  “I don’t want to,” she said. “I want to run away into the mountains. And then we won’t have to do anything. It won’t matter what you remember, or what the papers say. You can grow a beard and chop wood.”

  “Would you like me to grow a beard and chop wood? I could. But I don’t think we should move to the mountains.”

  “Why not?” she asked, pretending to sound tragic.

  “Because our home is here. Our family is here.”

  His words tapped into a well of longing that expanded in her chest. Deep. Intense. So very needy it stole her breath. “You’re right,” she said. “It is.”

  “I take it you want to…try?”

  She knew what he meant. To try for a marriage. To try and be a real family. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Leon. I do.”

  This vow was deeper than those she’d spoken at their wedding. Because then, she hadn’t known all they would face. Hadn’t known how he might hurt her. How he would heal her. Then, she hadn’t truly known how deeply she could care. She hadn’t known how much it might cost.

  But it was the cost that made it valuable. It was the cost that made her yes matter.

  When they walked back into the house, it was the first time it felt like theirs. And it was the first time she truly felt like Leon’s wife.

  * * *

  Leon’s memory continued to improve over the course of the next few weeks. Filling in gaps that had previously been vacant. And it was a good thing, too. Because it was time for him to get back to work. He could no longer leave his company unattended and expect that it would thrive. He was in the business of investments, and he knew well just how fraught the market could be. Truly, it was a miracle that everything had been left standing in his absence.

  He was beginning to do a little bit of work from home, and he hadn’t destroyed anything. Now that he was certain he wouldn’t break things simply by touching them, he was beginning to feel a similar level of confidence in his dealings with Rose. Though he was slightly less confident on that score. She was so beautiful. Fragile, and easily bruised much like her namesake. He wanted no part in harming her in any way.

  At least, no more than he already had.

  Those memories, the memories of how he had treated their marriage, were the most difficult to reconcile.

  He still couldn’t remember April, Isabella’s mother. Couldn’t specifically remember dealing with her when she had told him about her pregnancy. He could only make assumptions. He was consigning a certain amount of memories to that file. Memories he would simply have to forget ever existed.

  He knew enough now to function as Leon Carides. He knew enough to see to his work. To be a father. And to be a husband. He didn’t need anything else.

  Rose walked into the studio space that they were beginning to share more often than not. He was holding Isabella as he sought to work on his computer. He had missed so much time with her, he liked to make it up when he could.

  “I thought I might find the two of you in here.”

  “I’m never anywhere else,” he responded.

  She smiled, her expression almost sad. “That’s going to change. Soon you’ll be going out and going to work. Probably traveling again.”

  He frowned. “Yes. I was thinking about that. I see no reason why you and Isabella can’t travel with me. I know you’ve been working to archive your father’s writing. To compile your family history. But surely once you have a good amount of that digitized you can start to travel away from the manor.”

  “Yes. I don’t see any reason why I can’t.” The offer made her glow; the response made him warm in his chest.

  “Well, that’s settled then. Of course, this is assuming that you aren’t sick of me.”

  “Not even a little bit,” she said, treating him to a smile that he knew down in his bones he didn’t deserve.

  “I have also been thinking about the fact that we never did have a party here in the manor. I know it isn’t Christmas. But I will be returning to work. I’m going to need to put on a strong face. Of course, most of the world doesn’t know about the exact effects my accident had. But I am going to have to put on quite a show to restore confidence in my abilities as an investor. Beyond that…there is the small matter of introducing Isabella as part of our family.”

  The look of pain on Rose’s face stole any warmth that had just lodged itself in his chest a moment ago. “Of course we will,” she said, her tone practical.

  “It is a necessity. But of course, the world will not believe that you secretly gave birth to a child. I’m going to have to confess my indiscretions.”

  She nodded slowly. “And I suppose I’ll stand behind you like a dutiful wife as you make the claim.”

  “You do not have to stand behind me. You can stand in the crowd and throw rotten fruit if you like.”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not going to do anything that would cast you or our family in a negative light. No, we can’t hide the truth. Obviously, Isabella isn’t my baby. And, honestly, if we tried to maintain that fiction it would only come crashing down around us later. Nothing is going to stop April from coming forward if she sees the potential opportunity for a payday. She didn’t seem like a terrible person, but she did seem like a woman who might find herself in desperate straits eventually. We don’t want to open ourselves up to that. The truth is the only way forward.”

  It had been true for the two of them; of course it would continue to be true for their family.

  “I agree. We will release a statement, but quietly. After our party.”

  “You want to have a party?”

  “Yes. With my beautiful wife by my side. A statement. Of my commitment both to you and to the business. A show of how things are changing after the accident.”

  “I see. And what will you tell the public?” she asked.

  “Simple. I will tell them that you nursed me back to health. I will tell them that my brush with death caused me to reevaluate some things. And that I have changed. All of these things are true.”

  “Yes. Just leaving out the part about the amnesia.”

  “I feel that amnesia is best left unmentioned.”

  “That is probably tru
e. First of all, I doubt very many people would believe it,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “We are rather like a bad soap opera, aren’t we?”

  She crossed the space, coming to sit down beside him, and pressed kisses on his cheek. “With a little bit less tragedy, I hope,” she said.

  “One can only hope.”

  “Then, I suppose we are going to be very busy planning a party,” she said.

  “Or rather, the staff will be. I would rather keep you busy with me.”

  Rose smiled. “That can be arranged.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  PUTTING ON FORMAL dresses never did end well for Rose. That was why she was unaccountably twitchy and deeply uncomfortable as she zipped up the crimson gown, smoothing the silky fabric, watching the weight conform to her figure. First there was her prom. Then there was her wedding. And now this.

  It made her feel a deep sense of encroaching doom. It made her feel so uneasy she could hardly breathe.

  She looked at her reflection. At the wide-eyed woman staring back. She was expertly made up, shadow highlighting the blue of her eyes, her lips a deep crimson.

  But she still saw plain, bookish Rose. Who would have to go downstairs and stand next to Leon, who couldn’t be called plain or bookish in any circumstances.

  She took another breath. It would be fine.

  This was different. This was their first party as a married couple. This was a symbol of Leon’s commitment to moving forward with her. This was their new beginning. And yes, eventually, they were going to have to deal with the fact that they had to tell the world about him having a child with another woman. But, for tonight, they would just have their party. For tonight, Leon would show off his improved health, and they would stand together, truly a couple for the first time in the eyes of the world.

  She took a deep breath, looking down at Isabella, who was in the small bassinet that was currently in the room she shared with Leon. The baby was sleeping, and Elizabetta would be upstairs to ensure that she was taken care of during the party.

  Still, it was Rose’s first instinct to stay hidden up here with the baby. Mostly because she was used to hiding. Used to staying out of the spotlight. Out of the way.