To Love Honour and Disobey(14)

'Just what?'

She sighed. 'Summoning courage.' But then she'd had to find more courage deep inside than she'd ever dreamed she'd need.

He drew another breath, forced it out again. 'Please tell me what happened.'

She was silent. She hadn't ever wanted to talk about it-not with him, or  anyone. What was the point? It had happened. It was over. There was  nothing he could do. Or that anyone could do.

But her heart sank, for she knew there was no getting out of it-not with  him so close like this, so intensely scrutinising her. He was watching  her every blink, her every breath, monitoring her tiny quivering. At the  very least she had to tell him the basics.

'I was in Bath-that's where I'd gone after I left you. Everything was OK  for a few weeks. I was getting my head around it. Then … ' She shrugged,  not wanting to go into any more detail.

'Had you been sick? Did you fall?'

'Nothing like that. It just happened. The doctor said I'd never know  why. I didn't have any of the usual risk factors. It was just one of  those things.'

'But you were going to keep it.'

'Yes.'

His eyes bored into her. 'Would you ever have told me I had a child? Would you ever have found that courage, Ana?'                       
       
           



       

'Eventually,' she muttered. When she had herself sorted.

'You never should have run away.' He swore. 'Where does it get you, Ana?  How can you think you can get away with avoiding everything? Especially  something as big as this?' He stood silent for a long time. All of a  sudden his body bunched again and he lanced her with an even more intent  look. 'Even now you're not telling me the whole story, are you?'

She couldn't hold his gaze, looked to the floor, wanting to disappear into it.

'The scar. My God. This is how you got that scar.' His hands cupped her  face, tilting it up to his with surprising gentleness. 'Isn't it?'

Why hold any of it back now? He knew enough, was guessing the rest.

'I had a lot of pain. I fainted. I don't know what happened. I was in  and out of it. I remember parts of the ambulance ride. Telling them … '  She'd wanted them to save her baby. 'It was an ectopic pregnancy. I went  straight into Theatre. When I woke up it was all over.' They'd had to  remove her fallopian tube and her ovary had been damaged. She'd stayed  in hospital for a few days. And gone back to her empty flat to  recuperate-to nothing.

She could feel the tension in his fingers.

'That can be life-threatening.'

Her heart contracted. 'My baby died.'

'You could have too.'

Yes. It had been that serious. And there had been a moment-the darkest  of moments-when she'd wished she had. She had lost everything. And had  no one and no place she felt she could turn to.

There was a long silence. He didn't let go of her. She could feel his  breathing, deep and unnaturally regular as if he was concentrating hard  to control it. She waited for the explosion. She could feel his anger  like a living thing radiating from him. But it wasn't harsh words and a  raised voice that assaulted her senses.

'It must have been awful for you.'

It was a whisper that arrowed straight under her armour. Sympathy wasn't what she'd been expecting.

'You must have felt so alone.' His finger stroked down her cheek. 'You didn't tell anyone, did you?'

She released a shaky breath. 'There wasn't anyone … around.'

There was a moment again, where she felt the wave of effort it took him  to stay silent and she could read the hurt in his eyes. She appreciated  it. She appreciated it so much that her control began to slip.

'I'm sorry you were alone,' he said quietly. 'I wish you had told me but  I kind of understand why you didn't. I just wish I could have done  something.'

'There was nothing anyone could do.' Her voice cracked. 'It doesn't matter.'

'It does.' His arms slid around her, pulled her away from the wall and cradled her in a loose embrace. 'It does matter.'

And now, months later-surely too late-he comforted her. And she needed it. How she needed it.

'It matters so much,' he muttered into her hair.

It had. It still did. And she didn't know when the pain would diminish.  She had tried to put it from her mind, tried to focus on getting her  life back on track and firing up her career. And it had worked-until  she'd seen him again. In that instant feeling had started to flow again.  Starting with desire at its most basic, but the sexual spark had warmed  up all of her emotions. And now that the gates had been unlocked the  flood was impossible to stop. Her heart opened and the hurt poured out.  His arms tightened, supporting her as she crumpled.

The tears were hot and salty and hurt her eyes and they wouldn't stop.  And she couldn't breathe properly, couldn't stop the sobs, the choking  as the agony burned its way out. She cried for the things that she'd  longed for-for love, for family. And she cried because she simply  couldn't keep holding it in. All the while he held her tight, murmuring  somethings, nothings, the soft sounds of comfort.

And for once she shared the burden.

Chapter Seven

SEB watched Ana sleep. He should be running-far and fast. But he  couldn't. Just couldn't. He had an inkling of what she must have  suffered-and with such quiet strength. Hadn't he seen his mother  suffer-for years-as the other children she'd longed for had never  eventuated? Hadn't he felt the helplessness, the hopelessness-hadn't he  seen the heartbreak?

Yes, he knew something of the devastation Ana must have felt. And even  though that baby had been unplanned, even if she'd never wanted  children, he could understand why and how its loss had devastated her.

Because wasn't there a hurt inside himself right now? As if a part of  his heart had been skinned. A facet of it he hadn't felt before. Hadn't  he missed out on something precious too? What would that child have  looked like? Would it have had her vivid blue eyes or his pale ones?  Undoubtedly it would have been tall and dark …                        
       
           



       

He closed his eyes and blanked his mind. Not going there. Kids had never  been part of his plan-never would be. He inhaled. What had happened was  just fate, wasn't it? It was just the way it was meant to be. But how  he wanted to make it all go away.

He sat in the chair across from the bed and saw when she stirred.  Finally she opened her eyes. From the distance he saw her lose colour as  consciousness returned and memory came with it.

She sat up quickly, pulled the sheet up to cover herself. 'I'm sorry I wailed all over you last night. I'm over it. Really.'

In some ways she was-physically over it, and she'd been making plans to  get on with her life. That was why she'd sent the divorce papers, wasn't  it? She wanted closure so she could move on.

'It's OK. I'm glad I finally know,' he muttered, his voice rusty. 'I'm sorry.'

And he was. Desperately so. But there was still a problem. Closure was  elusive-and would remain so unless they worked it all through.

'You'll want to get back to the mainland.' She rubbed her forehead with her fingers, hiding her eyes from him.

'No. I'm not ready to leave the island yet.' He wasn't ready to leave  her. For he wanted closure too, wasn't that why he'd come all this way?  When, having finally found out where she was, he hadn't been able to  just sign it all away without seeing her for himself.

And once he'd seen her, he'd known why he couldn't just sign. It was  still there. Just as it was for her. That damn electricity, the inferno  that blazed between them. They had to go on and finish it. They'd got  off the bus too early last time-they had to get to the end of the ride  now.

He tossed the packet of condoms on the bed. 'I got those from the  office.' He held his breath. God, could he be more blunt? But he didn't  know how else to approach it.

She looked at them and the colour returned to her cheeks in a flood. 'I don't want sympathy sex.'

He gritted his teeth as he heard her anger. 'That's not what I'm  offering.' This wasn't bloody sympathy sex. This was  I-can't-control-my-lust-for-you passion-and he was desperate to get rid  of it. For both their sakes.

'Well, what are you offering?'

'What do you want?' He couldn't stop the rasp in his voice. He knew what  he wanted-he wanted as he'd never wanted before. He wanted to make her  feel good. He wanted to make himself feel good. Because right now he  felt like crap and instinct screamed at him that the only way to feel  better was to get close.

She drew her knees up to her chest. Her hair hung in a mess around her  face and her red-rimmed eyes were vivid blue and shielded. 'I want what  we agreed,' she said fiercely. 'The fling we should have stuck to a year  ago. A few days of indulgence to burn it out. Then you go your way, I  go mine.'

She had changed. Was tougher-not the marshmallow of a year ago. Now she  was asserting her desire-and desire was it. He let go his breath with a  kind of relief. For wasn't that it for him too? Wasn't that all he  wanted-or had he changed?