Pitch Imperfect(90)

“I...I...”

The silence stretched. And continued. Rob’s entire body felt as though it was a house built on shifting sands, slowly sinking, taking with it all hopes that his love would ever be enough for her. He’d seen the trapped expression on her face too many times not to recognise it.

“You can’t even say it, can you?”

Tears slid from her eyes. “Isn’t it enough that I don’t want any man but you?”

No.

Rob scanned the poem on the wall, using it to recover his control. “I’m jealous as hell right now and so angry I can barely see straight. I almost wish you’d had sex with Damien, that our being together was as simple as making love to you and erasing him or any other man from your mind. But it’s not.”

She had no rejoinder for that, trembling so badly it took every ounce of control he had not to go to her. Maybe she loved him and maybe she didn’t. One thing was sure: she wanted to save herself future pain, and it was time he did the same.

“Love is about risk,” he said steadily. “A risk I refuse to take on a woman who is too afraid to love me the way I deserve. A woman who’ll run away at the first hurdle and regret her life with me.”

“I—”

“Tell me you’ll love me even if I get ill again. Tell me it doesn’t matter, that what we have is worth the risk. I can make that vow to you, Anjuli Carver, unequivocally.”

Anjuli’s voice cracked. “You said you’d be patient, that you would understand and wait for me.”

“Maybe I was wrong, maybe seeing you with Damien changed my mind.”

Tentatively, she placed her hands on his rigid shoulders and stood on tiptoe so she could kiss him. He remained immobile. Her lips trembled as she pressed them into his, hesitantly at first and then with a growing confidence that took his breath away. Slowly, his mouth opened under hers and his arms went around her waist to crush her to his chest. She might protest his language, but she was “his woman.” And to prove it to her he would take her to bed, love her like he wanted to and then—

And as soon as he was gone her fears and doubts would come rushing back. His love for her would be underpinned by the worry that she would have other, worse reactions to any obstacles in their future. He could make love to her until the sun stopped rising, but it wouldn’t be enough. Anjuli would never break through the barriers keeping her a prisoner of her fears. She couldn’t sing and she couldn’t love; she had told him as much, but he hadn’t wanted to believe her.

Sex and fondness may have been enough in his other relationships, but would never be enough from Anjuli. With her it was all or nothing. He knew that now. Trusting her with his heart was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make again. She didn’t love him enough to stay at his side, no matter what.

Avoidance. Abandonment. That’s what awaited him if he gave in to his love for her.

Rob unclasped Anjuli’s arms from around his neck. “You win, it’s time to leave the past where it belongs.”

“Can’t we take it one day at a time, see how it goes, if I can...love you?”

“No.”

“Why?” she cried, stricken.

“Because there are a lot of things I want to experience with you, but getting left at the altar again isn’t one of them.”

Anjuli lowered her eyes and nodded. Tears streamed from her eyes but she made no protest, no attempt to convince him that leaving him again wouldn’t happen. Proof that he should accept that it was over. Rob forced himself to walk to the front door. Once there he paused, his hand on the doorknob. If Anjuli called him back, told him she loved him and wanted him no matter what, he would never leave her side.

The house was silent.





Chapter Nineteen

Anjuli’s Victorian hospital dream was different this time; more frustrating than sorrowful. And bloody painful. Shouting, she woke up in a sweat. The night was dark, and Reiver was curled up at her feet, sleeping. These days the old nightmare took her past the peaceful little rose bush into a sequence that involved running aimlessly through brown mist, followed by pummelling her fists on Heaverlock Castle.

Dream Anjuli was as stupid as the real woman. She knew the order of events by heart but she didn’t slacken her pace until she smacked into a stone wall. Every time. Then the mist would clear. It was sunny over the ruin and she could see a man on the forbidden parapet, back turned, looking down as if searching for something. She would shout that she was coming and search for an elusive entrance to the castle.

Then came the oh-so-intelligent banging of flesh on stone.

She’d hit the ruined walls and they would crumble, only to reform and whack her in the face the second she tried to enter the castle. And every time she found an open door it slammed shut in her face, echoing the sound of her front door shutting behind Rob that awful day.