‘Five.’
‘Seven.’
‘Four.’
‘I need more time!’
‘What for?’ he asked. ‘You look beautiful as it is. I like your hair by the way; did you have it done?’
She wished she could have some device installed in her system to stop her being so ridiculously affected by his compliments.
‘Yes…’
‘You’ve got three minutes left,’ he told her, the edge of his mouth lifting again in that stomach-flipping smile.
She turned and scooted up the stairs.
Carli was completely shocked by his choice of restaurant. The décor had changed but it was still recognisable as the very first restaurant they’d gone to as a new couple when they’d first met.
She didn’t know what to make of it. Was he intentionally reminding her of what they’d shared in the past?
She waited until they were seated to ask, ‘Why are we here?’
‘Why not here?’ He gave her an unreadable glance as he reached for the menu.
She bent her head to her own menu, her thoughts flying off in all directions.
It had been their favourite restaurant.
He’d taken her here for their first date, they’d celebrated their first month together here, they’d celebrated their second…he’d asked her to marry him on the third.
She stole a glance at him over the top of her menu but he seemed to be concentrating on the long list of foods available. She bent her head once more, trying her best not to feel emotional…but still…
The proprietor of the restaurant approached and greeted Xavier by name, and as his glance swung to Carli his eyes widened in delight.
‘Carli Knightly!’ he crowed. ‘You are back with us.’
She wasn’t sure what to say but thankfully Xavier got in first. ‘Carli goes by the name of Gresham now.’
‘Gresham?’ Emilio frowned. ‘Bah! I will always think of you as Carli Knightly. Now, what can I tempt you both with?’
Carli knew it was pointless arguing the point and quickly rattled something off the menu to keep the waiter off the subject of her divorce from who was quite clearly his most preferred client.
Xavier gave his own order and once Emilio had gone turned his gaze on her.
‘Relax, Carli, you look as if you’re expecting all the kitchen staff to come stomping out here to berate you for leaving me in the first place.’
‘The kitchen staff didn’t have to live with you—I did.’
‘You seemed to enjoy it at the time.’
She could hardly argue with that. For the most part she’d been ecstatically happy living with him, sharing his life, his bed…
‘It had its compensations,’ she offered with an element of grudge.
His laughter sent a shiver of reaction down her spine and she reached for her water glass to disguise how much he affected her.
‘In spite of my snobbish family and my selfish career?’ he teased.
She gave him a short glance before inspecting the bread rolls set before them, choosing one carefully to delay her response.
‘Although I’ve said to the contrary, in the end my leaving you really had very little to do with your family,’ she said, avoiding his eyes. ‘As you said once before, we were at different stages of our careers. It was never going to work; I can see that now.’
‘You know something, Carli, if you go looking for failure that’s exactly what you’ll find. Our marriage would have worked but you didn’t expect it to.’
Was it true? Had she on a subconscious level expected their relationship to fail and once it hit the first hurdle she’d left before any further damage could be done? Had she asked for a divorce because deep down she had been dreading him asking the same and she couldn’t allow him to get in first?
‘You seemed intent on arguing at every point over every single detail,’ he continued. ‘The honeymoon wasn’t even over when you told me flatly you weren’t having children. Can you imagine how that made me feel?’
‘Maybe you should have asked me before you married me,’ she said. ‘Or perhaps you could have run a check-list by me to see if I was up to the task of being a suitable wife. You know, whether I wanted to give up work, how many children I wanted, that sort of thing. You could have saved yourself a whole lot of bother and moved on to the next woman who actually wanted to be a doormat for the rest of her life.’
He let out a sigh of impatience. ‘When have I ever treated you as such? For God’s sake, Carli, if you stay with me you’ll have household help for as long as you want it. You will be one of the few women who actually can have it all—the husband, the kids and the high-powered career.’
The bread roll in her grasp dropped back on her plate as her eyes went back to his.
‘Husband?’ she asked, frowning at him in confusion. ‘But I thought you said—’
‘I was speaking figuratively,’ he said, shifting his gaze to the left of hers.
She hunted his face for a clue to what he was feeling but all she could see was rigidity in the set of his jaw. There was no sign of love reflected in his dark blue gaze as it clashed with hers on the way past.
He didn’t want to marry her because deep down he knew the attraction they still had for each other wasn’t permanent. He wanted access to his child but wasn’t prepared to go to the lengths of formal commitment any more.
The irony of it was almost painful, she thought. Here she was, the ardent, career-driven feminist, wishing he would go down on bended knee and tell her he couldn’t live without her.
He could easily live without her.
He had done so for five long years.
He’d quickly replaced her with an array of new lovers, each one moving aside for the next, unlike her, who, no matter how hard she tried, just couldn’t let go…
‘Can’t you see I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to make this work?’ he asked after a stiff silence.
‘What a pity you didn’t get it right the first time around.’
His jaw tightened as he fielded her scornful glance. ‘Well, you know what they say about practising to get things perfect.’
‘I’d hardly describe our relationship as anywhere near perfect,’ she tossed back.
‘There are times when it comes pretty damn close,’ he said. ‘Think of how good we are together. You melt in my arms every time.’
‘So, you’re a good lover, but then no doubt your extensive practice over the past five years has paid off. Lucky me,’ she drawled, reaching for her glass.
‘It annoys you I’ve had other lovers?’
She gave her head an indifferent toss. ‘Why should I care what you’ve been doing?’
‘Why indeed?’ he mused.
She fought against the urge to squirm in her seat, so agitated was she by the turn of conversation. She had to remind herself she’d been the one to leave him. Their relationship had been well and truly over. She had nailed the last nail into the coffin that contained their marriage. She had absolutely no right to feel jealous of all the women who had stepped up to take her place.
No right at all.
She met his eyes across the table, her hands tightening into two small knots on her lap. ‘Was there…anyone during the last few months?’
‘You mean since the night of the lift?’
‘Yes…’ She disguised a small swallow. ‘I know it’s probably none of my business but…’ She lowered her gaze, unable to hold his studied look any longer.
‘I could ask the same of you, of course,’ he said after another pause.
‘Believe me, you don’t need to.’ Her tone was rueful. ‘I think after that night I more or less learned my lesson about one-night stands.’
‘The answer is no,’ he said, bringing her eyes back to his in surprise.
‘No?’ She swallowed again. ‘Not even one?’
He shook his head.
‘But…but why not?’ she asked.
‘I had other things on my mind.’
&
nbsp; Emilio appeared with their food and the opportunity to question him further passed.
Carli stared at the contents of her plate as if she couldn’t quite work out how they had got there. Since when had she ever eaten venison?
‘Is something wrong with your meal?’ Xavier asked once Emilio had left.
‘No…’ She picked up her knife and fork, trying not to grimace at the rich meal in front of her. ‘Everything’s fine…’
Xavier watched her struggle through the first three mouthfuls before laying his own cutlery down and, reaching across, quickly changed their plates over.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘I’m saving you from the embarrassment of confronting Emilio with an untouched meal still sitting on your plate.’
She looked down at the succulent chicken breast stuffed with spinach and feta cheese he’d put in front of her and decided against defending her choice with her usual fervour.
‘I think I must have misread the menu,’ she said instead.
‘Either that or your mind was on other things,’ he offered, lifting a forkful of what had previously been her meal to his mouth.
Carli attended to the food before her, wondering what sort of things had been on his mind in the last few months since they’d run into each other at the conference.
Had he even thought about her?
Probably not, she told herself sternly, he’d promised after that one drink she’d never see him again. Even though that one drink had led to… Well, it was still no reason to think he had even once considered contacting her again.
The baby shifted inside her, the flutter of tiny limbs stalling her in the process of relaying a forkful of food to her mouth.
‘What’s wrong?’ Xavier sent her a concerned look.
She smiled softly as the growing infant gave another reminder of its presence.
‘Your baby is evidently finding its current accommodation a little cramped,’ she said.
His expression softened and her stomach did another somersault, which this time had nothing whatsoever to do with the child in her womb.
‘You’d better tell him it’s going to get a whole lot more crowded in there in the next four months,’ he smiled.
‘So you think it’s a boy now, do you? What happened to the little girl with curly chestnut hair and a fiery temper?’ she asked.
He gave her a teasing smile. ‘I’ve already got one of those—you. Besides, Knightlys always have sons first. It’s a genetic tradition.’
Her expression told him exactly what she thought of his genetic traditions and he laughed. ‘You know, I think you think it’s a boy too, but you won’t allow yourself to agree with me on anything on principle.’
‘I don’t have to agree with you if I don’t want to.’
‘No, of course you don’t, but I have a gut feeling on this.’
‘Does your gut feeling stretch to possible names?’ She picked up her fork once more and resumed eating.
‘I’ve been thinking about it over the last few weeks,’ he said. ‘We should buy one of those baby-name books and go over it together.’
Carli suppressed a tiny sigh. Anyone listening in could easily think they were a happily connected couple excitedly awaiting the birth of their first child. If it hadn’t been for their accidental pregnancy she would quite probably be sitting alone right now in her flat, watching something inane on the television as she had done for the past five years, while he would have been out with his latest lover.
‘Were you going to keep your promise?’ she asked into the silence that had fallen once their plates were cleared from the table.
He pressed his napkin to the corner of his mouth before responding. ‘Which promise was that?’
‘The one about never seeing me again.’
He gave a slight frown as he rearranged his napkin across his lap, but when his gaze meshed with hers his expression was mask-like once more.
‘I’m known to be a man of my word, or have you forgotten?’
It wasn’t quite the answer she’d been searching for.
‘I’m not sure I know you all that well any more,’ she said, a small frown taking up residence between her brows. ‘In fact, I often wonder if I knew you properly in the first place.’
‘You could be right.’ He gave her another one of his quick, unreadable glances. ‘I’ve never been particularly comfortable with revealing all my cards. I guess you could say that was one lesson my nanny taught me well.’
‘What was she like?’ Carli asked softly, almost tentatively.
He gave one of his indifferent shrugs. ‘You’re familiar with the type; in fact when I first met your elderly neighbour I thought it was Nanny Tipple all over again.’
‘Was that her real name?’
He gave her a twisted smile. ‘No, her real name was Tipper but I renamed her after I began measuring the gin and sherry bottles in the drinks cabinet every day. She was steadily drinking her way through my parents’ supply of aperitifs, not that they noticed, of course.’
Carli was well aware of the significance of his wry revelation. On the few occasions he’d mentioned his childhood, she hadn’t picked up on any dissatisfaction with how things had been conducted in the Knightly household.
Had she missed something at the time?
Had she been even listening to him?
Truly listening?
‘Did you tell your parents about what she was doing?’ she asked.
‘I made one or two attempts.’
‘They didn’t believe you?’
‘They didn’t want to have to go through the inconvenience of replacing her.’ He leaned back in his chair with the lazy sort of grace she knew she would always associate with him and only him. ‘My mother’s words were, and I quote, “I can’t go through the tedious interview process again! What harm is she doing? What’s a drink now and again anyway? God, if I had to mind them all the time I’d be hitting the bottle myself!”’
There was no mistaking the bitterness in his tone. Carli felt a wave of empathy rush through her at the thought of him as a young child trying to deal with the dysfunctional adults in his life, taking on responsibilities no child should have to face.
‘What eventually happened?’ she asked.
‘One afternoon during the school holidays Imogen, my youngest sister, nearly drowned in the back-yard swimming pool.’
‘Oh, my God!’ Carli’s face paled with shock.
‘Lucky for her I was there and dragged her out.’
‘You saved her life?’
He gave another could-mean-anything shrug. ‘She was still breathing…but only just.’
‘You should have told me…’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know…I just think one’s wife should know of the most significant things in one’s past.’
‘But you’re not my wife.’
Her eyes went back to his. ‘No…but I was before.’
‘There are things you should have told me as well, so we’re more or less quits, don’t you think?’
She stared at the starched whiteness of the tablecloth for a moment or two.
‘You saved a life—your sister’s. My mother died a lonely death while I was on school camp. It was probably my absence that killed her.’
He leant forward in his chair, almost knocking over his glass as he did so. He righted it with one hand as the other reached for one of hers, his strong fingers interlacing with her trembling ones. ‘No, you mustn’t think that.’
She looked down at their joined hands and sighed. ‘Don’t you ever wish you could roll back time?’ She lifted her eyes to his and was surprised at how deep and dark his gaze had become. ‘If I could just go back and tell her how much I loved her maybe she wouldn’t have done what she did.’
‘You shouldn’t be blaming yourself,’ he said huskily. ‘Not after all this time.’
‘If Imogen had died, wouldn’t you have done the same?’
His fin
gers around hers tightened momentarily. ‘I think I’m going to have to be very careful around you in future.’ His mouth bent into a rueful smile. ‘You’re starting to get to know me too well.’
She smiled back at him, somehow feeling closer to him than she’d ever felt before, even during the time they were married.
‘Do you think we’ll be good parents?’
‘The best,’ he said with a confidence she privately envied. ‘We’re aware of all the mistakes, so hopefully we won’t make them.’
A shadow of doubt passed over her face as she looked down at their joined hands once more.
‘It would be so much better if things were…more normal between us.’
‘Hey.’ He reached over the table and lifted her chin so her eyes had to meet his. ‘What we have is normal, don’t ever forget that. We’re attracted to each other in spite of the past. I want you and you want me—what more could we ask? Didn’t the little kitchen routine demonstrate that?’
She gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile.
What she wanted was out of reach and the irony was she had been the one to push it even further away. The only thing connecting them now was their desire for each other and the baby that had been conceived out of that need.
‘Do you want dessert?’ she asked, picking up the menu Emilio had discreetly placed at her elbow, perusing its contents with pretended avid intent.
Xavier frowned as he bent his head to the menu card in his hand. What he wanted wasn’t printed on the menu; it was sitting right in front of him.
‘I think I’ll give it a miss.’ He placed the menu to one side.
‘What about Emilio?’ she asked. ‘Aren’t you concerned about offending him?’
‘I think he’ll understand the direction my appetite has taken.’
Carli’s menu fluttered to the table from her suddenly nerveless fingers as her eyes met his across the short distance of their table.
‘You want to go home?’ she asked in a breathless whisper.
‘You bet I do,’ he said and his chair scraped back as he got to his feet, his hand reaching across the table to link once more with hers.
CHAPTER NINE
CARLI sat beside him in the car on the journey home, her senses already spinning out of control by the gleam of rampant desire she’d seen reflected in his eyes as they left the restaurant.
Back In Her Husband's Bed (Bedded By Blackmail) Page 14
