BTW I Love You Page 17

  Walking into the empty house now was going to be hard enough; doing it in darkness would probably destroy what little control she had left. She’d spent the night in Cal’s spare room in Hampstead, fielding his barrage of questions about what the hell had happened to her and why she had only a ball gown on and no luggage. The ten-hour journey home on two different trains wearing the too-tight sweater dress one of Cal’s many girlfriends had left behind hadn’t helped to stabilise her mood one bit.

  Reaching for the key tucked into the eaves that she left in case of emergency, she resolutely refused to worry about how she was going to get her stuff back from Rye’s penthouse. Or how she was going to explain her disappearing act to Ruth. Surely in a couple of days she’d have recovered enough of her composure to contact Ruth and Rye’s PA. Contacting Rye wasn’t an option. Her lip quivered and she bit into it.

  Nearly home. Nearly safe. Don’t you dare fall to pieces now. Not when you’ve managed to keep it together this long.

  One thing she’d learned from this whole experience—she was stronger than she had ever imagined. If she could survive this much humiliation and heartache, she could survive anything.

  She searched for the key for another few seconds with no luck. Then tried the door out of habit. To her astonishment, it opened.

  The fact that she’d been foolish enough to leave her front door unlocked for over a fortnight didn’t astonish her for long, though. Wasn’t it just another sign of how comprehensively she’d failed herself over the past month?

  She shrugged off the coat Cal had lent her in the entrance hall and entered the darkened sitting room.

  Her steps halted and fear lanced through her at the sight of the fire flickering in the hearth.

  ‘Hello, Madeleine. You took your time.’

  Her head whipped round as her heart punched her ribcage. The ball of agony grew in her chest, pressing against the unshed tears that had been scalding her throat since yesterday.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she whispered, watching as he levered himself out of the armchair.

  He looked tall and indomitable, his head skimming the ceiling beams as he made his way towards her, the light from the fire casting his face into shadow. The purpose in his stride wasn’t diminished in the least by the slight hitch in his gait.

  Panic came first, followed swiftly by shock as he spoke. ‘I’ve come to tell you I love you.’ His voice sounded husky, rough with emotion.

  But as her heart leapt wildly into her throat, her head registered the truth.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ She wanted to flee again. But she could barely stand, her legs weak, her knees shaking. And, anyway, where could she flee to? He was in her home, would always be in her heart. This time she had to stand and fight. ‘Don’t lie to me,’ she finished.

  She shoved him as hard as she could, but still he stepped forward and took her arm to pull her close. ‘I’m not lying.’

  Her hands clenched into fists as the tears she’d been fighting back so valiantly coursed down her cheeks. ‘I don’t believe you.’ Her fists pummelled his chest as she hit out to halt the humiliation, to stop the agony.

  ‘Stop it, Maddy.’ His voice cracked as he stifled the last of the futile struggle against his chest.

  Gulping sobs racked her body. ‘Why did it have to be you?’ she whispered through jerky sobs, his arms holding her as her body quaked. ‘I didn’t even believe in love.’ The last of the anger drained away to leave only the agony.

  ‘Don’t cry.’ His voice seemed to come from a million miles away, his hand stroking her hair. For a brief moment she felt comforted and secure, but then reality froze her.

  She struggled out of his arms, swiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘I want you to leave now.’ She’d felt the evidence of his arousal against her belly—and her own traitorous response. ‘I know why you’re here,’ she said, rigidly polite. ‘And it won’t work. I know you can’t love me and I know why. And saying you do won’t get me back into your bed, so there’s no reason for you to pretend.’

  The slashing pain came first, slicing cleanly through the last of Rye’s defences. He wanted to grab her, to shake her, to yell at her that he couldn’t control his response to her, that he’d never been able to control it. And that he’d been to hell and back in the last twenty-four hours. But he knew every last second of agony he’d suffered had been his own fault, not hers.

  The cruel humiliation of seeing her run away from him, his lame leg making it impossible to catch her. The frantic phone calls to discover her whereabouts. The desolation of turning up at the cottage to find the place empty. The knowledge that he’d thrown away the only thing he’d ever needed in his life because of his own cowardice. And now the accusation that he would lie about his feelings for the sake of sex.

  Had he really believed that simply telling her he loved her would make up for all the mistakes he’d made? For the way he’d used her and continued to use her and refused even once to confront the truth about how he felt about her?

  He deserved her scorn. He deserved her contempt. But, however guilty he felt, it didn’t mean he was going to give up without a fight. He’d been waiting for close to six hours in the cottage, alone, trying to figure out a way to make amends for what he’d done. Everything from kidnap to blackmail to throwing himself on her mercy and hoping for the best had been considered. The only strategy that hadn’t was letting her go.

  She’d said she loved him. And he was going to hold her to that, no matter what. One huge advantage he had in his favour, and which he clung to now like a life raft in a storm-tossed sea, was that Maddy had more compassion than any person he knew. It was probably why she’d been foolish enough to fall for him in the first place, and he was banking on it being her downfall now.

  She’d have to forgive him. Because she was too good a person not to.

  ‘What makes you think I can’t love you?’ he asked.

  Her lip trembled but she held painfully still. Guilt churned in his stomach but he refused to relinquish eye contact, to let her off the hook.

  ‘It’s not that you can’t; it’s that you won’t let yourself.’

  He nodded. ‘And what makes you think that?’

  ‘I don’t think that. I know it.’ Her shoulders slumped and he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes, the pallor of her skin in the flicker of firelight. He wanted to gather her in his arms, to take her to bed and burn away her distress. But he couldn’t take the easy way out. Not again.

  He needed to listen to her this time. And then tell her the truth. And hope like hell she still loved him once she realised how wrong she’d been.

  He nudged up her chin, brought her gaze to his. ‘What do you know, Maddy?’

  ‘That you never recovered from losing your parents. That the loss still haunts you. And that you’ve never let anyone get close enough to mean that much to you again.’

  As she said the words, Maddy saw the flash of raw grief on Rye’s face and understood something she’d been trying really hard not to admit. She’d wanted to believe this mess was his fault as well as hers. But was it really? He’d never asked for anything from her except physical pleasure, something he’d given back tenfold. She was the one who had insisted on moving the goalposts—on wanting more from him than he had ever been willing to give. And by not telling him how she felt, by not giving him the chance to set her straight, she’d brought all this misery on herself.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted out. He had never wanted her to fall in love and, as much as he’d manipulated her, he’d never lied to her about that.

  He frowned, focused on her. ‘Sorry for what?’

  She wiped the errant tears off her cheek. ‘I tried to make this something it isn’t. You never …’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, touching a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t do that.’

  ‘Don’t do what?’ she said, confused by the curt command.

  ‘Don’t make excuses for me.’ He ran unsteady fingers through his hair,
then swore softly. ‘I don’t deserve it. If anyone needs to say sorry here, it’s me. Not you.’ He lifted her hand and pressed his lips into her palm. ‘Maddy, it wasn’t the loss I couldn’t get over. It was the anger at the pointless way they died.’

  She tilted her head, hopelessly baffled by the self-loathing in his voice. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He threaded his fingers through hers and held on. ‘I should tell you what happened.’

  She shook her head. She’d tried to make him relive this once already for her own selfish reasons. She wasn’t prepared to do it again. ‘You don’t have to tell me, Rye. It was never any of my business.’

  ‘Yeah. It is.’ He gave a rueful smile, confusing her even more. ‘My father had an accident on his board.’ He ducked his head but she could hear the tension in his voice. ‘It was a World Championship Competition; he wanted to qualify for the top league.’ His eyes met hers, the grief so intense it took her breath away. ‘She begged him to be careful. But he didn’t listen. He took a stupid risk, wiped out against a reef and broke his neck.’

  ‘Rye, please—’ she tightened her grip ‘—don’t do this. You don’t have to.’

  ‘Yeah, I do.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. ‘She took an overdose of sleeping pills three weeks later. But really it was like she was already dead. She left me a note. You want to know what it said?’

  She flinched at the bitterness in his voice, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘What?’

  ‘Sorry. That’s all it said. Sorry. Like that was going to make up for leaving me.’

  ‘Please, Rye. I didn’t mean to bring all that …’

  ‘I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. I’m telling you so you’ll understand something. They were selfish people. They loved me, sure. But they always put themselves first. And I’ve done the same damn thing to you.’ He looked at her and the tenderness she saw made her heart stop. ‘And it’s taken me forever to see it.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ she said, automatically leaping to his defence. ‘You did what you had to do to protect yourself. You were just a little boy.’

  ‘But I’m not a little boy any more,’ he said, interrupting her. ‘And I haven’t been for a long time.’ He rested his hands on her hips. ‘The truth is, losing them the way I did became a convenient excuse to have everything I wanted without risking anything in return.’ He touched his forehead to hers and sighed. ‘You want to know what’s really ironic?’

  She blinked, still baffled, but at the same time oddly elated. The shutters had lifted. She’d never seen Rye so open, had never even thought it was possible.

  ‘Yes, I would,’ she said softly.

  ‘Because I kept getting away with it. Because I came out of each relationship unscathed, I always thought I’d be able to choose—who I cared about and how much. And then you came along and suddenly I didn’t get to choose.’

  Was that gratitude she could see in his eyes or something more?

  ‘I wanted to be with you all the damn time,’ he continued. ‘And you were right, I wanted to make that all about the sex and nothing else.’ A rueful smile tilted his lips. ‘But it was never that simple. Was it?’

  ‘Not for me,’ Maddy murmured.

  ‘The only difference is,’ he added, ‘you had the guts to admit it. And I didn’t.’

  The sensual grin spread, making heat pulse at her core and warmth wrap around her heart. He paused to take a deep breath. ‘I do love you, Maddy. In fact, I think I’ve loved you for weeks. But I was too scared to say it. Even to myself.’

  ‘Oh!’ she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips, tears of emotion pricking the back of her eyes. ‘Do you really mean it?’ she said, and immediately felt like an idiot.

  What was she trying to do—ruin her big romantic moment?

  But he didn’t look offended or even surprised; his grin just got bigger. ‘I do if you do.’

  She sprung up on tiptoe and flung her arms around his neck. ‘You know I do.’

  He chuckled, his arms holding her as she dampened his shirt collar with happy tears.

  ‘I brought a nice bottle of Chablis with me, in the hope that I could persuade you to give me another chance,’ he murmured, his hot breath brushing her ear lobe. ‘How about I open it?’

  She giggled, rejoicing in the feel of him swelling to life against her midriff. ‘Only if you promise to drink it naked.’

  He laughed, then gripped her tight and lifted her off the ground.

  Her delighted peals of mirth mingled with his husky chuckles as he spun her round, then lost his balance and tumbled them both onto the sofa.

  The last of their laughter subsided as he brushed her hair back and framed her face. ‘I will if you will,’ he said, the tender promise shining in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, all right, then,’ she whispered, struggling to fake a frown. ‘If you insist.’

  And, much to her everlasting joy, he did.

  EPILOGUE

  ‘ARE you happy, Maddy?’

  ‘Can’t you tell, Cal?’ Maddy smiled at the sober concern in her brother Callum’s smoky green eyes as he held her loosely round the waist to swing her into a turn.

  ‘I’m not just happy. I’m blissfully, overwhelmingly and unbelievably happy.’

  Or she would be once she got up the guts to tell Rye the news she’d kept buried inside since this morning.

  As her brother danced her round under the bows of holly and mistletoe, the flicker of candlelight and torches illuminating Trewan Manor’s stately ballroom, she scanned the large gathering of friends who she and Rye had invited to witness their marriage vows that afternoon. Her heart caught in her throat for what felt like the fiftieth time that day when she caught sight of her new husband of two hours standing beside the dance floor, deep in conversation with his best man Phil and his friend Zack, who had travelled all the way from California with his family the day before.

  Rye looked like a pagan Prince Charming, the careless waves of dark blond hair touching his collar, the silk tie he had worn for the ceremony now tucked into the back pocket of his suit trousers and the top buttons of his dress shirt undone to reveal the whorls of chest hair.

  The insistent pulse of heat throbbed as she imagined undressing him the rest of the way in a few hours time.

  ‘He almost deserves you,’ her brother murmured in her ear. ‘So I guess I’ll have to live with the fact that he’s turned my smart, sensible little sister into a starry-eyed romantic.’

  She tore her eyes away from Rye to find Cal studying her in that inscrutable way he had that always reminded her why he was one of the top barristers in the country.

  Her cheeks flushed.

  ‘You really are happy, aren’t you,’ he said, but the familiar cynicism made his irises glint like emeralds.

  Maddy’s smile faltered, a pang of regret piercing through the daze of euphoria—and unbridled lust. How could she and Cal have grown up witnessing the same misery and become such different people—with such different needs?

  Yes, she had once been as suspicious as Cal about the existence of love.

  But, despite that, she had always wanted to build a stable, secure relationship that would finally make her forget about the emotional roller coaster of their childhood. And what she’d eventually found with Rye had been so much more than that staid partnership she’d once craved.

  What they had together was a miracle as wonderful as it was unexpected. After a year together, the life they shared was still an electrifying ride of passion and excitement, comfort and companionship.

  Dividing their time between London and Cornwall and turning the dark empty rooms of Trewan Manor into the home it was always meant to be had given them the best of both worlds—not just the energy of the big city but also the gentler pace of rural life. And every so often, when they felt the need to take a time-out from everything, they’d turn off their mobile phones and lock themselves away in the cottage on the cliff path.

  Her silk d
esign work had turned so swiftly from adored pastime to thriving business that her feet had yet to touch the ground. But Rye had been with her every step of the way, offering support and advice and encouragement, and even distraction when necessary. She grinned. The morning before her last show, he’d diligently seduced her into a puddle of lust to take her mind off the worst case of nerves known to woman.

  She touched her hand to her midriff as the music slowed to a stop. Tonight, she and Rye would enter a new phase that would bring more daunting challenges. But, however stunned she’d been this morning, she knew they’d be facing this new challenge together.

  ‘Yes, I really am happy, Cal.’

  I wish you could be too, she thought wistfully, but didn’t say it, knowing Cal would be amused by the sympathy, and appalled by the sentiment. She would give anything for her handsome, commanding and deeply cynical brother to be able to find love—or at least open himself to the possibility. But Cal had built a fortress around himself that she suspected no one would ever be able to penetrate.

  ‘Thank you for giving me away today,’ she added, dispelling the foolish ripple of melancholy. ‘I know fairy tale weddings aren’t your scene.’

  Her heart pounded as impatience and anticipation consumed her. She needed to find Rye and tell him her news; she had waited long enough already. But, as she turned to go, Cal held onto her hand.

  ‘Mads, just so we’re clear. If the fairy tale ever ends, you know where to find me.’

  She blinked back tears, hopelessly touched by the misguided offer. Cal’s protective instinct was one of his most infuriating qualities, but it was also one of his most endearing.

  ‘Thanks, Cal, but don’t hold your breath.’

  She heard his wry chuckle as she rushed off, lifting the skirt of her bias-cut silk bridal gown.

  This fairy tale wasn’t going to end, because Rye and she wouldn’t let it. Not after everything they’d been through to make it work. The enchantment of their Christmas marriage ceremony and the secret inside her had only reaffirmed the fact that today was about facing the future with courage and love and determination. Not doubts or regrets.