by Nina Milne
There was no need for words; instead he cupped her face in his hands and brushed his lips against hers, the movement so natural, so right, that he let out a small groan as her lips parted beneath his.
The kiss seemed timeless. It could have been seconds or it could have been hours before the limo glided to a halt. By then he was gripped with a desire so deep he ached, and he felt her answering need in the press of her body against his, the tangle of her fingers in his hair.
As they emerged, hand in hand, he tugged her towards the revolving door of the hotel, through the lobby and towards the stairs. Once inside their suite they didn’t—couldn’t—wait. His jacket fell to the floor and her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, crept underneath the material, and as she touched his chest, he exhaled a pent-up breath.
The words of their vows rang through his head: ‘With my body I thee worship.’ And without further ado he scooped her up and carried her to the bedroom.
* * *
Holly opened her eyes, turned to look for Stefan and saw the empty bed. Her languorous happiness started to fade and for a moment she clung to it, allowed herself the memory of the previous night. Laughter, joy, passion, gentleness... The swoop and soar of desire and fulfilment.
Her face flushed and she suddenly wondered exactly how to face him. But she had to—she had plans for the day...plans she was determined to see through.
Swinging her legs out of bed, she felt gratitude that he had discreetly exited, saving her an undignified scramble for clothes. Far better to face him clothed. Unless, of course, he had left because he was worried she’d request a replay. What if she hadn’t measured up? Hadn’t been woman enough? No—that was foolish. Last night had been magical—she knew it.
Yet that certainty dipped as she entered the living area. He looked so gorgeous and yet so remote that for a crazy moment she wondered if she’d imagined the previous night.
‘Hey...’
‘Hey.’
Misgivings continued to smite her. There was a grim set to his mouth, and his lips strained up into a smile that did not match the cool glint in his eyes.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Sure.’
His fingers drummed against his thigh and she could sense his frustration.
‘Last night... I’m sorry... It shouldn’t have happened like that.’
The onset of hurt began to pool inside her tummy, and she focused on keeping all emotion from her face and her voice. ‘How should it have happened?’
‘I should have checked that it was really what you wanted.’
‘I think it was pretty clear what I wanted.’
‘I meant in the longer term. We decided that we didn’t want this relationship to become physical. Last night it did—without either of us considering the consequences.’
‘We used protection.’
‘That isn’t what I meant. I meant the consequences to our marriage of convenience, to our deal.’
‘So you regret last night?’ Damn it, she hoped that hadn’t been a tremor in her voice.
‘No, I don’t. But I do regret that we didn’t figure out the rules first. Now we need to decide what happens from here.’
What did she want? Right now her body still strummed in the aftermath of the previous hours, and it was telling her in no uncertain terms that it really didn’t want to give up that sort of pleasure.
‘You said to me that you believe relationships with a time limit work—relationships based around physical fulfilment and a bit of sparkle over the dinner table occasionally. We could do that.’
‘And you said that that sort of relationship wasn’t for you. I think you may have mentioned “clinical sex”.’
‘Yes... Well, it turns out I may have been wrong about that. Turns out clinical sex is right up my street.’
Her words pulled the glimpse of a smile from him before the grimness returned.
‘This isn’t about that, though. The point is this is not the type of relationship you want and I knew that. So last night should not have happened. You are looking for a real husband, a father for your children, and I am not that person.’
‘I know that—and I knew that last night. If I hadn’t wanted to go ahead I would have said so. You are right that I want a real marriage and a family, a man who shares my values and beliefs. You don’t—and I get that. But right now you are in my life and we do have some sort of attraction thing going on.’
She hauled in a breath.
‘So last night happened and I don’t regret it. As you said, the question is where do we go from here?’
Stefan has a point! yelled a voice in the back of her head. This is not what you want—imagine the humiliation when he tires of you.
I may tire of him.
Yeah, right. Dream on.
Fine.
‘I think we should have a very short-term relationship—just for the honeymoon. Once we get back to London we’ll live separate lives for the year.’
He hesitated, searched her face as if he wished he could penetrate her very soul. ‘You are sure that is what you want?’
‘Yes.’ This was under her control—she was putting the time limit on it. This way she couldn’t get hurt and she would get to replay last night. Win-win, right? ‘But only if you do.’
‘Oh, I definitely do.’
Finally his face relaxed into a grin that curled her toes and sent a thrill of anticipation through her entire body.
‘In fact, why don’t I show you exactly how much I want this? Want you.’
Temptation beckoned, but she shook her head. ‘No can do. I have a plan for the day. We need to get going.’
‘Get going to where?’
‘Xanos Island.’
The smile dropped from his lips but she soldiered on. ‘Sunita mentioned it. She said it’s an amazing little island, completely secluded, with sand, rocks, caves—the works. I’ve figured out the tides, a boat awaits us, and we have the most amazing picnic ever.’
‘Did Sunita say anything else about it?’
‘Yes.’ There was no point lying about it. ‘She said Eloise used to take you there.’
‘So you figured it was a good place to go to?’
‘Yes.’
Because she thought the best way for him to let go of the past might be to revisit the good bits of it. He might not have had many good bits, but it seemed clear that he and Eloise had shared a few happy years before the divorce and its horrors. More than that, so had he and Frederick, under Eloise’s guidance.
‘I thought you might like to revisit some of your good childhood memories. I know there may not be many of them, but that makes them all the more precious.’ She hauled in breath. ‘And it’s not only for you—it’s for me as well.’
‘How so?’
‘I told you that your mother broke my father’s heart when she married your father. But the repercussions went deeper than that. My mother loved my father and she couldn’t deal with his relationship with Eloise. Couldn’t deal with the fact that my father didn’t really love her. So she hated your mother with real venom—and I was brought up to do the same. To me, your mother was the wicked witch incarnate and I never questioned that.’
It hadn’t taken the young Holly long to figure out that the best way to win a crumb of her mother’s attention, if not her affection, had been to insult Eloise.
‘I’d like to make amends—go somewhere like Xanos Island and remember Eloise differently.’
Stefan met her gaze and then he nodded. ‘Thank you. For feeling able to give her memory a chance. I truly don’t believe she wanted to hurt anyone. And she wouldn’t have wanted the fall-out to hurt you—I know first-hand how horrible it is to be a child caught in the web of your parents’ destructive marriage. I’m sorry you went through that and so would she be.’
He rose.
‘Xanos Island here we come.’
* * *
As the small red and white motorboat bobbed over the waves Stefan could picture his younger self, recall the sheer joy of being on a real boat, singing a sea shanty with the Captain and his mother joining in, the soft lilt of her voice helping him with the words.
But it hadn’t only been the three of them singing—it had been Frederick as well. The memory, long buried, slipped into focus. His five-year-old self sitting on Frederick’s lap, leaning over the side, safe in the knowledge that his older brother held him secure around the waist as he trailed his fingers in the water.
Enough. That had been then. Before the horror of the divorce. Before Eloise’s departure. Before his father’s ‘toughen Stefan up and make him a prince’ notions. Before the anger and the blame in his brother’s eyes. Before the emotions he couldn’t forget, followed by his brother’s utter lack of support through his father’s ‘make Stefan a prince’ regime.
Hell, he was trying, but each meeting with Frederick was so damned awkward—there was a vibe of anger, of strain, that neither of them seemed able to circumvent. Not that it mattered. As long as they continued to pull off a public pretence of civility that was all that was needed. All that he’d signed up to.
The Captain steered the boat to a small harbour and Stefan followed Holly onto the wooden jetty, hauling the picnic basket with him, and soon they were crossing golden sands.
‘It’s magic,’ Holly said as they came to a halt. ‘It feels like it’s a million miles from anywhere.’
The sea seemed impossibly blue and the waves lapped gently against the sands. Flecks of sunlight dotted the green fronds of the palm trees that dotted the beach.
‘I think that’s why my mother loved it here: the seclusion gave her peace. I remember the last time we came here...’
The scene was vivid. The present faded and Eloise seemed to shimmer in front of him, kneeling in the sand, making a reluctant Frederick apply sun lotion, helping build a sandcastle.
‘Frederick ran off to explore the caves and I had a monster tantrum because my mother wouldn’t let me go with him—said it was too dangerous. I lost it, but she didn’t—she didn’t even raise her voice.’
She never had... It had almost been as if she’d known their time together was limited.
‘Instead she hugged me, told me that when I was older we’d explore the caves together. It never happened.’ It was a promise she hadn’t been able to keep. ‘This is the first time I’ve been back since then.’
‘Then let’s go and explore now.’
‘You sure?’
Holly raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m twenty-four years old, and I was brought up on a lemon grove where I roamed wild. I’m pretty sure I can rock-climb.’
‘Then let’s go.’
As they clambered over rocks, discovered trickles of water and debated the difference between stalactites and stalagmites, he watched Holly, saw the lithe, sure grace with which she moved, the impatient pushing away of tendrils of blonde hair as they escaped her ponytail so that vibrant corn-coloured curls bounced off her shoulder.
As if she sensed his scrutiny, she smiled at him. ‘You OK?’
‘Yes.’
Somehow Holly had taken a bittersweet memory and created a new, happy one to blend with it. And he hoped that somewhere, somehow, his mother could see this, would know that he’d finally explored the caves.
For heaven’s sake, Petrelli. Get a grip.
‘Let’s go eat—I’ve gone from ravenous to desperate!’
Once back on the beach, they unpacked the food: mini-quiches, tabbouleh salad, pork pies, tiny sandwiches, cheese straws and succulent Lycandrian olives, black and green and glistening in oil. They heaped their plates, sat back in the warmth of the sun and ate.
She shifted closer to him, turned to face him. Almost as if she had read his mind, she said, ‘If Eloise could see you she’d be proud of you.’
The words cut him, threatened to destroy the warmth of the day, and as if on cue the sun hid behind a passing cloud.
Stefan shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’ If he’d been stronger, toughened up faster, jumped through the hoops his father had set, he could have saved her. That would have been something to be proud of.
‘Well, I do.’
‘Even if she would it wouldn’t change anything.’
Not a single one of his achievements could change his mother’s life and how it had panned out.
‘The misery of her marriage, the horror of the custody battle, the fact that her love for me meant she suffered whatever my father meted out, her exile from Lycander...’
‘That wasn’t your fault. None of it.’
‘If she hadn’t loved me her life would have been a whole lot easier. Without me her life would have been immeasurably better.’
If he had been stronger, better, more princely, then her life would have been easier too. But he’d failed—or so his father had said. He had come in one day and announced the end of the regime. It was over and Eloise was gone.
In that moment, as he’d seen the cruelty on his father’s face, Stefan had vowed that he would never be a prince—that as soon as he could he would follow his mother into exile. When he’d learnt of her death, in his grief and anger, he’d renewed that vow.
‘I’m sorry.’ Holly hesitated, then reached out and clasped his hand. ‘Truly sorry. All I can say is please try to remember that she loved you and treasure the memories you have. I know she did.’
Stefan frowned, sure that alongside the compassion in her voice there was a strange wistfulness. As if she had a paucity of similar memories.
As if aware of it, she shifted slightly, turned to face the sea, choppier now, with white crests on the waves looping and rolling in the breeze, casting a salt scent towards the shore along with their spray.
She’d said her parents’ marriage had been embittered, and she had hardly ever mentioned her mother.
‘What happened with your parents?’ He kept his voice gentle, non-intrusive.
‘My mother left when I was eight—went to Australia.’
‘That must have been tough. How did they sort out custody?’
‘They didn’t. She decided to make a clean break; I haven’t seen her since.’
Now she turned to him.
‘I know it’s awful that your mother suffered, and it breaks my heart when I think about it. But I also know that you are so lucky that she loved you. Because you see my mother never did—never loved me. My parents wanted a boy. Desperately. After Eloise left, my father knew he needed to get married—needed Romano heirs. He was up-front with my mother, told that he didn’t love her, that his heart belonged to Eloise, but that he’d do his best to make her happy. Maybe if they’d had a brood of children they would have been. But it didn’t happen, and as time went by they became desperate. For a boy. When Eloise had you I think it tipped my mother over the edge—made her feel a complete failure. She did everything; she went to herbalists, soothsayers, every doctor she could think of. I think she would have sold her soul for a child—or rather for a boy. When I turned up they were devastated. I’ve heard people talking about it.’
Stefan scooted across the sand, moved as close to her as possible and hoped his proximity would offer some comfort. The idea of tiny baby Holly, left unloved, desperate for care and love, made his chest ache.
‘My father hired a nurse...tried to persuade my mother to take an interest. But she didn’t. I think she couldn’t. It was as though the sight of me turned her stomach. It always did and there’s nothing I can do to change that. My father was different; his disappointment has never fully faded, but he has always shown me love and kindness and I will be grateful for ever for that.’
It explained so much about why Holly was willing to do anything for her father. Gr
atitude, a desire to make up for his disappointment in her gender and of course love. Confirmation, perhaps, that love gave power; if you accepted love then you had to give something back.
Next to him, she gave a sudden tight smile. ‘Don’t look so gutted—it could have been worse. My mother never physically hurt me, and there were plenty of staff around—they all looked out for me. And my father was amazing.’
She glanced at her watch.
‘The tide is turning and the boat will soon be back for us. We’d better go.’
‘Wait.’
Turning, he pulled her into his arms, rested her head against his shoulder, felt the tickle of her hair against his chin. For a second she resisted, and then she relaxed. He rubbed her back, hoped he could soothe her childhood pain.
They sat like that for a while and then she pulled back, touched his cheek with one gentle finger. ‘We really do need to go.’
He nodded, rose and held out his hand to pull her up from the sand.
As they packed up the remains of their picnic a small voice warned him to take care. Holly had been rebuffed all her life by the person who should have loved her most and she was vulnerable.
But not to him, he reassured himself. Holly knew he wasn’t a long-term prospect and she didn’t even want him to be one. She’d been more than clear on that. But he knew that in this honeymoon period he wanted to make her happy, give her some memories to treasure.
They had a week—and he wanted to make it count.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HOLLY WOKE WITH a feeling of well-being and opened her eyes sleepily, aware of warmth, security and Stefan’s arm around her. Her brain kicked in and computed the day. Already in countdown mode, she was aware that their honeymoon period was tick-tick-ticking away. But it was OK. They still had a few days to go.
Relief trickled through her and she closed her eyes—just as the alarm shrilled out and her brain properly kicked into gear, dissipating the cloud of sleep. She sat up.
Stefan made a small noise of disapproval, reached up and pulled her back down. The sleepy caress of his hands down her back caused the now familiar jolt of desire. But today she couldn’t act on it. Instead she placed a gentle hand on his chest, leaned over and nuzzled his neck and then sat up again.
