by Paula Roe
“And I’m not buying it.”
She crossed her arms protectively. “I was lonely, depressed. Homesick. I felt—” she grappled for the right words, desperate to make him understand, “—alone in a crowded room.”
“So after three months of marriage you just up and quit.”
“That’s it.” She reached for the cutlery drawer, pulled out two spoons. “I gave up, straight after your no-child declaration. Is that what you want to hear?”
“The woman in those letters was in love, completely committed and determined to make our marriage work. She wouldn’t have just given up on that.”
She turned on him, grateful for the anger that fuelled her indignation. “I left everything behind to be with you, not to visit museums and historical attractions by myself. Not to play second fiddle to your father’s company. And not to fall asleep at night without you, then wake up in an empty bed. How much longer was I supposed to torture myself? I spent my childhood being ignored by my parents and I wasn’t going to let that happen again. Sure, I believed love could conquer everything—in the beginning. Boy, was I wrong.”
He refused to jump to the bait, instead remaining diplomatically silent.
Yet the war he was waging inside reflected clearly in his eyes, on his face and suddenly, despite all those words they’d thrown at each other, she felt regret creep in.
She swallowed and softened her voice. “You were right.” She turned away to put the spoons in the cups, then pulled out a couple of plates. “You said your work was a major part of your life and the culture shock would be enormous. But I also discovered my own individual identity suddenly didn’t matter. I hated how I was expected to act a certain way, do certain things because of who you were. And I hated how you’d lied to me.” She opened the refrigerator and took out the milk. “I handled it badly. It was…the type of person I was then.”
She grabbed the coffeepot with more annoyance than care and poured. Hot coffee slopped over the cup, scalding her hand.
With a soft curse she slammed the pot down then brought the throbbing skin to her mouth and sucked. “I didn’t try hard enough. I know that. I was desperate to fit in, to belong. But I was a poor foreigner, not suitable for you. So with every ‘you must make an effort’ I was subtly frozen out.”
She’d hated Finn for his demands, his high expectations. His refusal to understand how difficult it was to fit in, to work at being accepted. She’d hated the shy, insecure person she’d become because of her all-consuming love for one man.
“Ally,” he said now, his voice so soft she barely heard it with all the thoughts tumbling about in her head.
“What?”
He took her burned hand and swept his palm over the red skin. She tried to pull back but he held on fast. And when she dared to look up, he was so close she could see the small flecks of gold ringing his pupils, see those long lashes that used to close in passion when she kissed him—
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It was just…I didn’t…” She ended with a sigh, letting him rinse her hand under the cold-water faucet. “Look, I was young and insecure and felt betrayed. And you…”
“I was proud and refused to chase after you.” He dabbed at her skin with a clean towel.
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
He released her, stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched those broad shoulders. “Thanks for being honest.”
Not completely, her conscience niggled. “If you’re not honest with yourself, you could end up living a life you don’t want.”
“Do you have a life you want now?”
Yes. No. I don’t know any more. She settled for a shrug and felt his eyes graze her, almost like a physical caress.
“Ally.” Finn wanted to touch her again but she turned back to the sink, effectively dismissing him. In very subtle ways, she’d been dismissing him—no, rejecting him since he’d gotten here. Her walls of self-protection were so solid that he was unsure of how to breech them.
Then she sniffed.
Dammit, was she crying? “Does your hand hurt?”
“No.”
With all the thrust of a newly sharpened knife, her watery denial cut into his stomach and twisted. He had made her cry.
“Please turn around,” he said softly.
“Why?”
“Because I need to see your face.”
“No, you don’t. You forgot about me, remember?” Her laugh came out strangled. “Of course you don’t remember. Stupid question.”
His hands on her shoulders were so gentle that at first, Ally didn’t feel it. When he grasped her more firmly, turned her to face him, she glared at him and set her jaw.
“Don’t. I…” But Ally couldn’t say another word because the look in his emerald-green eyes undid her. His gaze reflected emotion so deep, so powerful that it nearly winded her. Something she couldn’t quite place…
He was right. He was so different to the man she had once known it was as if a stranger stood before her. Where he’d been quick to lay blame and freeze her out, now she only saw a man needing answers. A man wanting to support his child and getting frustrated by her less-than-honest responses.
And to her complete mortification, she felt the soft track of tears slide down her cheeks.
She tried to force herself to stop, but that only made it worse. Finn had hated to see her cry. It made him angry and defensive. Once he’d accused her of emotional manipulation. So she’d done it in private, alone. He’d never known.
“It’s the hormones.” She attempted a smile and ducked her face, but he reached up and brushed her damp skin with a gentle stroke of his thumb pad. The shock and pleasure jump-started every single vein in her body.
She didn’t want to stare at his mouth but she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to imagine kissing him, but her thoughts were seized with the memories of a thousand aching kisses. And when she brought her gaze up to his again, it was as if he had read her very thoughts because suddenly, his lips came crashing down onto hers.
His skin smelled like every memory she still had of him, all of them hot. Sexual. His lips tasted of heat and forbidden promises. His hands engulfed her face and, mouth on mouth, their breaths mingled, then their tongues.
Her senses erupted with familiar awareness and longing as he pulled her closer to his warm, hard body, caressed and stroked her back, wrapped his arms around her.
Ally gave one desperate moan and knew she was lost. It was like coming home after being away for an eternity.
Every nerve ending crackled, every inch of her skin was alert and craving to be touched. A thin sheen of sweat broke out and trickled down the small of her back as reality and memory entwined—those deep soul kisses, the soft intimate touches. And those lazy mornings making love…
Somewhere in the back of her mind the warning signs began to clamor feebly. Danger, danger. Don’t let him stroke your neck. Don’t let him—oh, my!—suck on your bottom lip or nibble your jaw or let those warm hands creep under your shirt and touch your…
Ally jumped, drawing in a sharp breath as his expert fingers stroked the sensitive skin of her gently rounded abdomen. She didn’t want to get used to this again—his kisses, his touch. Get used to having him in her life when she knew he would eventually turn right back around and leave again.
Even as common sense sent out all the warning signs, she couldn’t think straight with his mouth pressed to her neck while his hot, skilled hands unsnapped the buttons on her pants.
She was past the point of caring anymore.
When his palm curled around her hip, she stiffened. “Finn…I…”
“Don’t, elskat. There’s nothing you need to hide from me.”
Oh, God. That old, worn endearment felt like rain to her parched throat. She groaned in frustration as the last remnants of her iron will came crumbling down.
And still Finn was doing things that made her body sing with pleasure. Warm arousal spiraled between her legs as he conti
nued his kissing, stroking, teasing. She let him. She let him put his mouth wherever he wanted, over every inch of her craving skin. Let him peel up her shirt and trail those magic hands toward one sensitive breast.
Her knees buckled. She could do nothing but cling to him, a drowning being on a sea of desire. How many nights had she dreamt of this? How many days had she spent desperately wanting to be back in his arms, in his life? In his bed?
Another moan dragged from her lips, ending on a sigh when he dipped his head and gently bit her nipple through the thin satin of her bra.
“Finn. We have to…”
He raised heavy-lidded eyes to hers. The passion in them blew her away. “Kæreste, please don’t tell me to stop. I don’t think I can.”
“My shirt,” she got out. “Take it off. Quick.”
The look on his face was worth a thousand heartaches. He yanked her shirt over her head and she heard a seam give way. Then they were clawing at each other like two eager teenagers, exchanging hungry kisses. Groping. Tasting. Teasing.
Half undressed, Finn pulled Ally into the living room and down onto the rug.
“For months I’ve been having these dreams,” he murmured, hot in her ear. “I saw you naked, lying on a rug exactly like this one. Making love to you.” The soft acrylic fur enveloped them both, a thousand sensual fingers tickling every inch of exposed flesh. “Moving inside you. You were all warm and wet.”
Ally let her eyes close, reveling in the feel of his hands on her body, the rug’s feathery decadence on her back and bottom, his hot, urgent kisses on her breasts.
Her fingers dived into his hair and held on as she whispered sweet words of encouragement. And when she took a deep breath he was in her senses completely—the bittersweet memory of his cologne, musky skin and faint sheen of sweat that was so typically Finn.
Almost wondrously, she swept her palms over his shoulders and down his arms, discovering the swell of bicep and sinew and hard male. She had missed this so much, this touching. She placed soft feathery kisses on his nape and he shuddered. She’d also missed having this seductive power over a man—this man. Missed feeling the sweet tremble her kisses, her touch, could evoke. It was humbling and empowering all at once.
His hand slid down to the juncture of her thighs, eyes registering a silent question. He needn’t have asked. She willingly parted for him. As his fingers unerringly found the hot center of her arousal, she gasped, her hips instinctively jerking up, writhing for his touch.
Gently he rubbed his thumb across her most sensitive part, again and again until Ally’s breath became ragged. Trembling, she clamped her teeth down on her lip to stop from crying aloud.
“Don’t hold back, elskat,” he said, kissing her. “Open your eyes.”
She couldn’t refuse him—could never refuse him where making love was concerned. He could whip her up into a sexual frenzy with just a simple look, a touch and a promise of things to come. Time had not dulled her eagerness to fall into his arms.
Finn paused, his arms trembling from the thin control he’d thrown over his rampaging passion. He was raw and open and completely into the moment and when he looked down at Ally—his wife—he saw a flash of something deep behind the arousal shining in her eyes. Was it fear? He had no idea. He didn’t want to know because if he did…
She shuttered her eyes closed and drew him down.
He yanked down his jeans and, with a groan, eased into her moist warmth.
Her breath hissed out against his cheek, ending in a gasp as he pushed deeper. Her eyes were still squeezed tight, almost as if it pained her.
“Ally?”
To his amazement, a lone tear leaked out from beneath those smoky lashes and slipped down her cheek. He caught it in a kiss, tasting the hot saltiness before nuzzling her skin.
“Ally? Are you okay? I’m not hurting you?”
Ally groaned, mortified. You’re killing me. Her heart split in two, the shards stabbing, reopening the old wound. “No. Just keep going.”
“You sure? I can—”
“No!” She tightened her legs around his hips, holding him in. “Finish it.”
Even though the moment had abruptly shattered, he did as she asked.
It was over too soon. Finally he rolled off and she withdrew, curling up into a ball, her back to him.
They both lay apart, short ragged breaths loud in the cavernous silence. Slowly, the shadows lengthened as the sun disappeared behind gathering storm clouds.
Soon rain began to fall softly. It pattered against the windows, the ocean breeze sweeping a gentle blanket of raindrops inside the open patio door.
She heard Finn get to his feet and draw the door closed.
Then nothing.
In silence she reached for her clothes, pulled on her pants and did up the buttons with an unsteady hand. After the third try she managed to get her shirt over her head.
Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him at the window with his back to her, his glorious body naked and dotted with rain.
She ached to touch him so badly her hands shook.
“That shouldn’t have happened,” he said gruffly, his back still to her.
Her heart twisted that tiny bit more. He’d hated it. He hadn’t wanted her, just what she could give him.
His memory.
“Guess your theory didn’t work, huh?”
He turned then, the look on his face unreadable. “I meant I shouldn’t have been that rough.”
“Oh.” She straightened her shirt, feeling lost and incredibly stupid.
“Why were you crying?”
“I wasn’t crying.”
“Yes, you were.”
“I wasn’t,” she insisted. “I—”
With a soft growl, Finn strode over and grabbed her arms. She gasped, confronted with his ferocious glare.
“Don’t lie to me, Ally. I was inside you, this close to your face, and you were crying. Why?”
The look in his eyes wounded a thousand times over, reached inside and squeezed the very life from her heart. But like the fool she was, she couldn’t keep the emotion from bubbling to the surface.
“You make me too vulnerable, Finn! Just like a teenager begging for a scrap of attention. I don’t need you to tell me again how I can hardly look after myself, let alone a baby. How I’m not ready, totally selfish and trying to hold on to a dying relationship.” Hot irrational anger choked her throat, clogging it until she couldn’t think straight. “Yes, running away is something I’m not proud of but I wasn’t going to stay with a man who didn’t want a pregnant wife!”
Eighteen
Ally’s fury crashed to the floor and died a sudden death the very second she realized what she’d said. With a gasp, her hand flew to her mouth but the words hung in the air like a poisoned cloud, floating in to destroy everything in its path.
What have I done?
“Finn. I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…” Her words stuttered in her throat, a small cry of distress on her lips.
A car revved up in the street below and screeched around the corner. A breeze sprayed a fine mist of rain against the window and set the wind chime tinkling furiously outside. Yet still the silence was a thousand times more deafening.
“Didn’t want…?” Dark frown lines creased his forehead. “I don’t understand. I thought I didn’t know.”
She put a hand to her belly and sighed, swallowing her last shred of resistance. I’m so sorry, baby. I need to stop fighting this.
“I had a miscarriage the first time…two weeks after we arrived in Denmark.”
“How?”
“It was an accident. I fell down a flight of stairs.” She refused to elaborate, knowing no good would come of it. It would serve no purpose to tell him she’d been overwhelmed with anger the first night they’d had that argument, when he’d told her the cold hard truth that Sørensen Silver would always come first.
She’d miscalculated the stairs, her vision blurry with tears.
No one knew.
And she would take that secret with her to the grave.
Ally could only stare mutely, her heart twisting at the look of pure pain etched on his face, the profound depth of grief in his eyes. His back straightened as if someone had stuck a knife in it and given a vicious twist.
And to her complete misery, he took a step backward.
Away from her.
“Finn.” She swallowed thickly, forging on past his cold, closed expression. How quickly he had turned from passionate lover to less than a complete stranger. “It was…something that just happened.”
“Tell me what happened after that.”
She dropped her gaze, unable to bear the look in his. “I got out of hospital and we went on with our lives for another two months. But something had changed, something we both knew couldn’t be fixed. Then I got a stomach bug. Apparently antibiotics render the pill ineffective.”
“In the meantime I told you I didn’t want children. Ever.”
The underlying bitterness wounded her very soul. Somewhere deep inside, she wept for him—for the confusion, the fury and the desire to lash out that was surely eating away at his control. With a sigh she continued.
“You never talked about your parents’ divorce or your childhood so I guessed there were some issues there that had hurt you,” she said quietly. “I didn’t realize how much. When we got to Denmark the change in you was astounding. I could see you loved your father and his company, but it’s taken me up till now to figure it out. You were afraid your involvement in the business would overshadow everything else in your life—including a child.”
“That I’d turn out exactly like my father?” he snapped.
“Yes.” She made a move forward, to offer him comfort and understanding but, unsure how he’d take it, stopped herself just in time. “You need to know that I don’t blame you for anything.”
And incredibly, that was the truth. Dropping her gaze, she gave a sad sigh. Somewhere, somehow, as they had recalled memories and relived their past, she’d purged all bitterness about his decision. Using it as a weapon against someone who couldn’t remember didn’t change that fact.
Their lovemaking had only compounded it.
