GHOSTS OF ST. BARTS a totally addictive romance read (St. Barts Romance Books Series Book 5) (6 page)

The nanny smiled at father and daughter. “She’s been great and now it’s time for her bath. I’ll bring her down once she’s changed and ready for bed. They’re waiting for you in the drawing room. Colin and Sunny just got back.”

Sven raced down the massive staircase to the main floor, his heart stopping when he spied his wife. He threw his arms around her and was startled when she froze.

“I’ve missed you,” he said nuzzling her hair and cheek and leaning down to kiss her mouth.

“What happened? You bit your lip. It’s kind of swollen.”

He was being kind; it looked worse than swollen. He swore he could see teeth marks and a scab. Sven also noticed deep purple shadows under his wife’s eyes. It had been a long time since he’d seen Sunny look so exhausted. No wonder, he thought. She loved Henry too. And she’d been up all night and all day helping Colin cope with his father’s death. Helping Charlie too, he’d wager.

Sunny didn’t quite meet his look. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long twenty-four hours.” Sven closed his eyes as the fact of Henry’s death struck him again.

Sunny must have seen the pain that crossed his face because she reached up to caress his cheek, managing a weary smile.

“Everything’s ready for the deluge of people. I’m glad Mrs. Carlyle put out so many of Henry’s photographs, it’s a nice touch. I’d better go up and change. I want to see Bliss before everyone starts arriving on our doorstep.”

She took a step and faltered, clutching the newel post for support. Sven scooped her up in his arms and felt her head fall to his chest.

“No way. You are going to take a sleeping pill and get some rest. You said it yourself, all the arrangements are made.”

She nodded in weary satisfaction as over his shoulder she noticed two of Stuart’s staffers stocking the bar and bring out an urn of coffee.

She whimpered slightly as he carried her up the grand staircase, wishing she felt like her fictional namesake Scarlett O’Hara, instead of a Civil War casualty. Sven stopped at the nursery so Sunny could place a kiss on their daughter’s soapy cheek, relieved to see some colour return to her drawn face.

He gently deposited her on the bed and went to get a sleeping pill. “No arguments. And no getting up at the crack of stupid. Colin, Mrs. Carlyle and I will handle everything.” His voice was gentle as he looked down at her face, the sprinkling of freckles standing out against the pallor, her greenish grey eyes huge and bloodshot.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes.”

“No!” She clutched the sweater to her throat.

“What’s the matter? Are you okay? You’re not yourself.”

“I’m just so tired and cold. It’s been drizzling all day and I’m not used to the damp.”

Sven felt her forehead. Maybe she had a slight fever.

“Let me run you a bath. That’ll help.”

“Thanks. I’ll just lie back and soak and then slip into bed. You’d better get downstairs; I heard the doorbell. I don’t think Colin’s steady enough to cope on his own and he said Charlie was a mess today. He’s taken Henry’s death very hard.”

Sven stroked her check and kissed her hair. “We all have. I want to apologize for last night.”

“Apologize . . .?” A sudden blush stained her cheeks and a wary look came over her face.

He took Sunny’s hands, noticing absently that she’d broken one of her short fingernails. “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk. I haven’t been that wasted in years. I’m sorry you saw me like that but at least I’d blacked out by the time you came to bed and you missed the worst of it.” He noticed Sunny start. “You did miss the worst of it, didn’t you?”

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock.

“There are some television reporters hoping you’ll come down and talk about Henry.”

“I’ll be right there, Mrs. Carlyle.” He bent down to kiss Sunny’s sore lips. “You have that bath and take your pill like a good girl. Go right to bed. I’ll see to Bliss and everything downstairs. When everyone’s gone, I’ll come up and we’ll cuddle. Once you’re rested, I want to talk to you. I remembered when my father died. It was just like you said, a ghost of a memory that came pouring back when I thought about Henry.”

He switched his attention to the performance he was about to give. “God, I’m going to miss Henry. I’d better get downstairs and think of some clean stories to share with the press.” A hug and he was gone, leaving her alone in their bedroom.

* * *

Soaking in the deep tub of hot water she tried to let her emotions ebb away. Did some fear remain from the night before? She shuddered as she recalled falling into the pit of disturbing memories. She fought back the rising panic, doing the four square breathing exercises her therapist had recommended during a frantic phone conversation. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, the therapist had called it, a condition affecting people who’d suffered a trauma. They could re-live the experience suddenly, without warning. The trigger, said Dr Carole Trance, could have been Henry’s death along with Sven grabbing her upper arms. The action had been just like Clyde when he attacked her, Sunny thought and winced at the sight of the bruises. But her husband had also lost control — possibly brought about by Henry’s death and the memories of his father’s death. They both needed help. It had been a shock to learn that Sven had remembered when his father died. No wonder he hadn’t really seen her.

But she couldn’t think anymore, neither could she feel. She gingerly soaped her purpling upper arms and the hickeys now bruising up and down her torso. Out of the tub, she applied cream to the burns caused by stubble rubbing on her breasts and inner thighs. She hoped the marks from last night would fade along with the disturbing memories.

She rummaged through the armoire for a T-shirt of Sven’s to wear to bed. It would keep her warm and cover her up at the same time. Swallowing her pill with a sigh, she slipped beneath the covers and fell into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

It was late — or rather early next morning when Sven finally came to bed. He’d traded anecdotes, swapped jokes, patted heaving shoulders and smiled sadly for hours. He grimaced, thinking he’d done some of his best acting tonight in Henry’s drawing room, and in Henry’s honour. There would be more acting tomorrow.

There were a number of interviews booked with the British press and satellite interviews with journalists from other countries. He’d done two already that would air on morning television in the United States. He didn’t mind talking about Henry; it actually helped in a weird kind of way, helping to keep his memories alive and fresh.

Sunny clutched the pillow, very pale. For a moment he flashed back to the way she’d looked lying comatose in the hospital in St. Barts after the tsunami. She had been paler and stiller then. The memory gave him a start. He noticed she’d fallen asleep with the bedside lamp on. She used to leave the light on at night after she’d been attacked by Clyde. It’d taken months for him to wean her from that habit. Perhaps, he thought as he shrugged out of his new suit, she was just tired and forgot to turn off the light.

He slipped under the covers, wondering why she was wearing one of his T-shirts. He wanted to hold her, skin to skin. Maybe she’d caught a cold. Fatigue and grief could play havoc with the immune system. London’s grey, damp winter weather didn’t help.

He reached over to kiss her hair, reaching up under the T-shirt to gently stroke her breasts. She moaned in her sleep. The sound triggered a flash of his disturbing dream. He shook his head. Anxious to dispel the shadows, he gently spooned his beloved wife, murmuring her name as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 7

The last of the stragglers were finally leaving. Sunny felt raw. The past few days had been almost too much. She’d managed a moment alone with Stuart White, finally meeting his wife and thanking the chef profusely for his help with the food and drink.

She’d dealt with Sven’s co-star in
The Barbarian King,
the legendary French actress Evangeline Rousseau. The woman had peppered her with questions about her and Sven and seemed surprised to find a happy, loving family. Evangeline had sobbed theatrically during the service, and she had snapped her fingers at the wait staff, clutching Sven’s arm with her sharp, red talons.

As she found discarded scarves and retrieved lost umbrellas, Sunny thought with longing of St. Barts. They were leaving in the morning and would spend two months together — healing. The island was the perfect place to recover her — their — equilibrium. She glanced over at the baby, who was being carried away by the nanny for a long-overdue nap. Sunny wished Judith had been able to fly in for the funeral. Sunny always felt calmer when Judith was around. She made Sunny feel that everything would turn out okay.

Snap out of it!
Of course everything would turn out okay. It was better than okay now. Didn’t she have a child she adored? Wasn’t she blessed with a husband she loved more than anything in the world? She stifled the memory of the night Henry died, smiling vaguely as she shook hands with the departing guests. She and Sven hadn’t yet had time to talk.

He looked so beautiful in his black suit, standing next to the fireplace, golden head bowed and listening intently to one of Henry’s poker-playing pals. Despite his grief, he had done his friend proud, thought Sunny, depositing an empty coffee cup on a passing tray.

She noticed Charlie sitting by himself on a settee in front of the library fire and looking utterly miserable. He wasn’t doing well at all. His eyes weren’t just swollen, they were also haunted. He’d pulled away when she tried to talk to him at the church and again at the gravesite. He couldn’t pull away now. She sat herself down next to him on the loveseat.

* * *

Charlie blushed. He didn’t know what to say to Sunny — or to Sven. He didn’t know where to look. Every time she came into view he thought back to the sight of her naked and moaning. The sounds and images were seared into his brain. He couldn’t sleep and he couldn’t think about anything else. The sight of the two of them had even driven to the back of his mind his sorrow over his granddad’s death.

Sunny reached over to hug the little boy. Charlie flinched at her touch, yanking away, his elbow jostling hard against her sore upper arm.

A cry slipped out from between her lips as he struck her bruised flesh.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you touch me.”

“Charlie, honey. It’s okay. It’ll be all right. You just need some time,” Sunny said in a soothing voice.

Then Sven approached. “She’s trying to help. You don’t have to hurt her.”

Charlie looked up at him, his hazel eyes blazing. “You should talk about hurting!”

“Charlie!”

He stared at their shocked faces, eventually fixing his gaze on Sunny. She acted so gentle and nice. Yeah, right.

“I saw. I saw it all. I’m not the one who hurt you.” He got up and ran out of the room.

Colin rushed over. “I’m sorry for this. I can’t get him to talk to me. He’s been like this since the night Henry died. Staying in his room. Hiding behind the lens of that damn video camera my father gave him. It’s like he wants to put a distance between himself and real life. It’s as though something’s broken inside.”

* * *

Sunny looked up, pale and shocked. Her mind went back to the night Henry died. Charlie had said, ‘I’m not the one who hurt you. You should talk about hurting.’ He’d said it to Sven. Suddenly she realized. The boy knew. He’d seen. Oh, poor Charlie!

Ignoring the puzzled look her husband gave her, she rushed out of the library, saying over her shoulder, “Let me talk to him. I have to talk to him.”

Sunny scoured the house. Charlie wasn’t in the kitchen or on the main floor. He wasn’t in his bedroom or the billiard room. She was about to give up when she heard his voice coming from the nursery. Charlie was standing over her sleeping daughter, talking and sobbing.

She stood in the doorway. “May I join you?”

Charlie looked up and away, smearing the tears from his cheeks with the back of a hand. “She’s your baby.”

“And she’s your sister, sort of. Henry was your grandfather and her godfather, so that makes you family. When I’m upset I like to spend time with her too. A happy child seems to chase away the bad feelings.” She kept her voice neutral. “What were you two talking about?”

“She may not be happy for long. I know what it’s like when your parents get divorced. It’s awful. Everyone fighting.”

“Charlie, Sven and I aren’t getting divorced. Where did you get that idea?”

She let the silence build. It didn’t take long for him to fill it.

“I saw you. You won’t stay now, not after. . . that. How could you?” He angrily shrugged off her comforting touch. “It’s my fault! I should have stopped him. I saw you fighting and I heard you moan. He was hurting you and I didn’t help. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let him . . . rape you!”

The horrible word slipped past his lips in a choked whisper before he could stop himself.

“You thought Sven raped me?”

Sunny was aghast. What exactly had happened? She still couldn’t untangle what had been real and what had been a filthy memory; it was like fragments of a nightmare. But she understood at once how it must have looked to the boy. She held his hand firmly when he tried to pull away.

“Look at me. Now.” Her voice was soft but insistent. She must make him understand.

“I’m sorry that what you saw confused and upset you. It wasn’t rape. Sven couldn’t, wouldn’t rape me. He’s my husband and I love him. It would be like denying a part of myself. It wasn’t rape, Charlie. Never. He would never, ever, ever do a thing like that. Not to me, nor any woman. Sven is kind and gentle and loving. He’s the best husband and father a woman could hope for.” The words, spoken aloud, calmed Sunny’s own troubled heart.

“I’ve been really attacked and sexually assaulted. I can tell the difference. That night, what you saw, that’s why I was struggling. I was so tired and so upset about Henry that all those bad memories about when I was attacked came back to me.”

“But I heard you say ‘wait’. I saw you wrestling. He hurt you. Why did you let him hurt you? How could he hurt you like that?”

Sunny forgot to be cautious, intent on reassuring her young friend.

“I told Sven to wait because I wasn’t ready. You’re old enough to know a bit about sex. A woman has to be ready. I just needed a minute but he couldn’t wait. Sometimes a man — or a woman — just can’t wait. Yes, he was a little rough . . .” she faltered, trying to find the right words, “but I was all mixed up, thinking he was the man who attacked me years ago. And Sven was in so much pain, Charlie. Just like you are now. And sometimes when grown-ups are in a lot of pain, they want to be close to someone. Intimate. Having sex can be a comfort. Sven needed to be very close to me. He needed to be intimate.”

“But he hurt you.” Charlie couldn’t get past the disturbing images.

“Yes,” Sunny answered honestly. “He hurt my upper arms but he didn’t mean to. Charlie, when you love someone, when you live with them, you often hurt them without realizing it. Not because you want to, but because they’re there, close at hand. Like brothers and sisters fight. Like when you get mad at your dad. It doesn’t mean you don’t love him. It’s because you love him. It’s safe to say and do hurtful things because you know they won’t leave. That doesn’t make it right. You should never hurt anyone on purpose, but it’s human. It’s what people do. And when you love someone who’s hurt you, you forgive them. Like I forgive Sven.”

The tears had stopped. Sunny studied Charlie’s face intently. She could see he was trying to understand. He was calmer now.

“Sven loves me and I love him. Please, don’t let your confusion over what you saw make you think otherwise. He was so upset about Henry. It reminded him about when his own dad died. He would never, ever, hurt me on purpose. Charlie, tell me you understand.”

The boy went limp. “I guess so. I don’t know. It was just too much on top of Grandpa dying. If you say it’s okay?”

“Yes, sweetie. It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

She stroked his cheek, smiling into his eyes and saw the hurt and confusion ebb away.

Their emotional conversation had woken her daughter. The little girl’s arms were already outstretched, her eyes gazing past her two onlookers. Bliss leaned up towards the open nursery door. “Dada!” Sunny turned and looked up into the stricken face of her husband.