Spoken For (6 page)

12

I DON’T SEE Roman again until late that night.

He’s not at the supper table.

“Roman has some business to attend to,” is all Connor offers when Liam asks.

Liam’s eyes sparkle blue as he turns to me. “You have to come with, Kee, if we collect the Lamborghini tomorrow. Connor reckons we might get a shot behind the wheel.”

“I don’t see as why not,” Connor affirms. “If Roman lets an old fart like me take it for a spin, he won’t have a problem with you.”

Liam carries on and on until I throw my hands up with a smile and promise to join them.

And then I sink into my own thoughts, namely the business that has driven Roman into a temporary recluse.

Me, I suppose.

He knows I’m ready, so it’s not that.

Does he need to decide something else? Something deeper? Entangled lives? Commitment?

I quickly push those thoughts aside.

I can only concentrate on the physical. His utter domination of my body and pleasure. I don’t know his limits, how far he could take it, but already I trust him. He knows my body better than I do.

That’s as much as I can handle for now.

What happens when we spend the night together, when I wake up next to the wrong man…?

I can’t think of that.

I can’t think of us ending so quickly, before we’ve barely begun.

It’s past midnight when I give up on any possibility of sleep and make my way downstairs again. The house is quiet, but not completely dark. Dimmer lights remain on in the passages and hallways throughout the night.

The idea is there, to search Roman out, but I don’t know which bedroom belongs to him. I haven’t even been near the other wing yet, which is probably where the family suites are. The thought of walking in on Connor quickly slams that idea on the head.

I find Roman anyway.

Stronger light bleeds from the open library doors, leading me straight to him.

He’s leaning forward in the armchair, arms resting on his knees, the sleeves of his jumper shoved up to his elbows. In one hand, he holds a crystal tumbler of amber liquid.

He looks up as I step inside, cocks his jaw. Shadows play across his darkly beautiful face, taking my breath away, luring me closer one step at a time.

My eyes go to the chorded muscle of his forearm as he lifts one hand to run his fingers through his hair. The tattoo there strikes the light and by now I’m close enough to see every little detail. A long-stemmed rose with the smallest bud moments from blossoming. The tattoo is inked in black except for three blood-red thorns shaped as tears dripping from the barren stalk.

My feet freeze.

My heart cracks as my gaze travels from that rose to his haunted eyes.

I know.

The blood-red tears are his mother, his father, his sister.

It happened a long time ago
, he told me, so smoothly, so unaffected, so totally in keeping with his iron control and shuttered emotions.

And some of that may be true. But he wears their deaths on his skin, carrying them with him every single breathing moment of his life.

Tears claw at my throat, spring to my eyes.

Without a word, I turn my back on the room and run.

My heart races as my bare feet fly over the cool stone floor and carry me up the stairs, down the passage, into my bedroom.

The tears are streaming down my face as I fling myself on the bed. I’m crying so hard, I can’t breathe.

I can’t…

My heart cracked and I can’t do it.

I can’t give up that piece of me.

I just can’t.

I reach for Kyle inside my heart, desperate, determined to keep him with me. I blot out all else, my thoughts and feelings and senses wrapped only in the boy I should never have lost.

And I don’t let go, not even as I finally drift into sleep.

My dreams are an endless loop of Kyle, of that last, precious night.

Me, tucked into his arms.

His kisses drizzling my neck.

The music and laughter and crowded heat of the party pressing up against us.

Kyle’s whisper.
Let’s ditch this party. My folks are away. The house is all ours.

Me, looking up into his soulful brown eyes. My half-hearted protest.
You’ve had two beers.

I’m fine, Kee.

No, not a chance. My mom will kill me.

Keeeeeegan.

Me swallowing his groan in a deep, plunging kiss. Cursing myself for not yet bothering to take my licence.

His arms tightening around me, bringing me in flush against his body.
Ah, come on, Kee, I’m fine to drive.

Another round of breathless kisses, my limbs melting against him.
Not happening, baby,
murmured on his lips.

Kyle pulling out my kiss, keeping me close as he calls out.
Lucy, hey, how about saving a guy’s life tonight?

Lucy flipping him the finger as she twirls into her dance with a group of our friends.

Luce. I’m serious. We need a designated drive.

Lucy, thumbing both fingers at herself.
You have one, for later. Much later…

Kyle, always getting what he wants. Because he is the golden boy. The boy with so much charm, genuine love, happiness, laughter.

Kyle, me, Lucy, climbing into his car. Lucy behind the wheel.

The dark, winding road.

The headlights.

The explosion.

The screams.

13

I SPEND A FULL hour in the bathroom the next morning, splashing cold water on my face. Eventually, my swollen eyes are capable of being disguised with makeup.

I’m bone tired.

My brain is bruised.

My heart has shattered a hundred times in my restless, tortured night.

I put on a smile for the day. I’ve been here before. I know it will pass. I’ll be fine. Last night was just a little worse, a little more intense, than usual.

The snow has melted on the roads and the thunderous clouds have cleared from the sky. We all climb into a battered Land Rover with Connor at the wheel, Roman in the passenger seat.

I’m not ignoring Roman. And I’m not indifferent to the way the mere sight of him heats through me and melts. How could I be?

But I am stiff, formal.

I haven’t spent a night in his bed. I haven’t woken up beside him.

What I’ve done is far, far worse.

My heart cracked. It’s not love. Not even a glimmer. I hardly know Roman, really. But that one crack is enough. Too much. And now we’re done.

I don’t even want this. I don’t want us to end.

But I don’t know how to stop it.

I am what I am.

My heart is spoken for.

This morning, Roman makes it easy for me to slip away from him. He’s just as formal as me, distant, although not stiff.

Maybe he’s still making his decision. Or maybe he’s realised that I’ve already made mine.

I put more effort into my smile when Liam gives me a worried look. Roman has already agreed to let him take the Lamborghini for a spin. He’s bouncing like an excited puppy and I don’t want to spoil this day for him. Neither of us are flush with money and we’ll probably never be. This is likely Liam’s one and only chance to ever drive his fantasy.

The Dingwall show ground is a lot of packed ground and churned up sludge. The display stalls are still being dismantled and there’s a lot of activity going on.

The cars waiting to be collected are securely stored in rows of garages that are alarmed and guarded by both humans and dogs. When the manager opens one of those spacious garages for Roman, I see the reason for the stringent extremes.

The Lamborghini is a sleek, silver beast that rides low on the ground. Blackened window slits literally growl at me as I take a slow walk around it. I swear this car possesses the Rocchi vibes. A shiver actually trembles through me at the prospect of climbing inside. Okay, I’m starting to appreciate Liam’s puppy-like enthusiasm.

“You’re sure you can handle her?” Roman says to Liam.

There’s no criticism or second doubts in his tone. It’s more like a male-bonding jibe.

“I’ll be careful,” Liam promises.

Roman presses a button on the key-holder and the doors fly open like wings. His eyes come to me. “Climb in, Ms. Lynch. I’ll bring her out and then Mr. Rearedon can take over.”

I glide up to the passenger side, because that’s the only way to approach a car like this, and slide into the plush bucket seats with a grace that owes nothing to me and everything to the car.

Beside me, Roman turns the engine and the low growl vibrates the air. He leaves the doors arched high open as he drives a couple of yards to clear the garage.

When he swaps out, he gives Liam a slap on the shoulder. “Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself. Take her out the grounds and onto the road for a good drive.”

“We may not come back,” I tease him with a smile, my mood floating above the bad night I’ve had.

His gorgeous grey eyes soften on me. “I won’t start worrying for at least twenty minutes.”

The wings lower, sealing us into the aerodynamic capsule of pure luxury. While Liam changes gear, I press buttons. A deep, base, male opera voice filters in all around us.

Liam grins at me. “This guy has good taste in cars, but I’m not so sure about the music.”

“I don’t know.” I shrug, settling into my seat as I strap my belt on. “It suits the car.” I raise a brow at him. “Belt?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He does as he’s told, and then we’re surging forward, driving through the show ground gates and into the countryside.

The music combines with the growling vibrations and feeds my senses. The dramatic landscape of the snow-capped mountains feeds my soul.

Liam changes gears again and we rapidly gain speed, but I’m not afraid. The car hugs the road as we round a bend.

The next bend is sharper and the road widens to accommodate the craggy cliff rising on my left and the steep drop on my right, but we’re not hugging the curve.

“Fuck!” Liam hisses.

“What?” My eyes widen as the sheer drop closes up on me. “Liam!”

“Fuck! Fuck!”

I don’t know what’s happening.

My heart has already dropped over the edge that is right here, right below me.

Time freezes in a flash of blinding light.

Lucy’s here. She wears her favourite strappy sundress and flat sandals. She’s as beautiful and happy as the last time I saw her, before…

She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re way too early, Kee. It’s not time yet.”

I know what this means.

I’m dead.

“It’s not my choice, Luce.”

“Not anymore,” Kyle’s voice says.

My gaze flits in that direction and there he stands, a heartbeat away from me. His warm brown eyes looking into me. His love and adoration carved into the expression on his handsome face.

His smile comes slowly, sadly. “You know how much I love you, Keegan, but I didn’t mean for it to be like this. Don’t you know that?”

No, I don’t.

“I wanted you to live. I wanted you to be happy.”

“I did,” I tell him. “I was.”

He bites down on his lip. “I wanted you to love, and now it’s too late.”

“I love you.” And I understand. These are not his words. How could they be? He doesn’t know how I’ve lived. How I’ve clung. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t, baby.” He reaches for me. And he’s close enough to touch me, but somehow his open fingers never make it. “How can you lose me when I fill so many memories? I’m not going anywhere, no matter how many times you love.”

14

TIME UNFREEZES INTO slow-motion, disjointed frames. I’m staring down the deep crevice of a bottomless pit. My stomach lurches, my head spins. If we’re not free-falling yet, it can only be that some portion of the wide tires on my side are still treading along the edge.

Frame one: I look down, see nothing. Bile lurches up from my stomach to burn my throat.

Frame two:  My head snaps to Liam.

Frame three: He’s turned slightly toward me, his eyes on some spot between us, his mouth distending slowly to form the word, “Fuck.”

Frame four: He yanks up the emergency handbrake.

Frame five: Rubber burning. Tires screaming. The car jack-knifes, spinning us away from the edge.

Time speeds up and my head slams into the back of the seat.  Liam hits his side window. The car spins a full one-hundred-eighty degrees into a crunching slide along the sheer cliff wall and finally, finally, scrapes to a grinding stop.

My heart thunders in my throat.

I’m still pressed against my seat, my breathing a series of choked hiccups, my trembling arms wrapped around my waist.

How are we alive?

I sit there, unhearing, unseeing, unknowing how we’re possibly still alive, not trusting that we’re still alive, until Liam brings me partially back.

“Keegan?” His hands are all over me, cupping my face, rubbing my arm, gently pushing my hair aside as his searching gaze checks for blood. “Are you okay? Keegan? Can you move? Fuck. Are you hurt?”

“I’m o-okay.” My throat is so dry, I can barely get the words. “You?”

“Yes,” he says gruffly, but one hand goes to his temple and I remember that side bashing into the window. “I can’t believe I fucking lost control of the car. Fuck.” His eyes shoot past me. “Come on, we have to get out. We’re on a damn bend.”

He grabs the remote and pushes the button to open the doors. My side is jammed into the cliff wall and I have to scramble over the seats to follow him out. I’m shaky, but I can move and nothing feels broken.

The world is very far away, though.

I feel as if I’m trapped inside a fishbowl, that everything around me is happening on the other side of thick, insulated glass.

Liam finds two orange triangles and places one behind the car, the other just around the bend. A white van approaches, pulls up. Two young guys working at the show grounds. I pick out the words, “bitchin’ wreck” and “way to go impressive, man”, but they’re decent enough to ensure we’re all okay and they offer us a ride back.

Liam’s arm goes around my shoulders and stays there. I cling to him, to the comfort he offers, but I don’t feel the warmth or security.

Everything is disconnected, distorted on the other side of my glass bowl.

Roman strides up to us as we stumble from the back of the van. His face turns the same stone-cold grey as his eyes when Liam starts to explain. He waves aside Liam’s rush of apologetic words, his gaze on me.

“Keegan, are you okay?” He reaches for me, then changes his mind when he sees how tightly I’m clinging to Liam. His arms fold. “Are you hurt?”

My mind seems to be operating on a different time scale. The conversation moves on while I’m still formulating my response to Roman.

“I think she’s in shock,” Liam says. “But not hurt.”

“There’s an ER unit in the town,” Roman says.

“We’re fine,” Liam protests.

Roman insists. He takes us in the Land Rover while Connor stays behind to sort out the Lamborghini.

The prognosis for Liam is mild concussion. The doctor instructs him return if he experiences any nausea. I’m prescribed sedatives and the suggestion to try and sleep the shock off.

Roman’s face remains ashen grey throughout, his jaw stone hard. He doesn’t try to touch me, comfort me, converse with me, but he watches me like a hawk. I can’t decide if he wants to claw my eyes out or scoop me up into his arms and fly away.

I think the shock is actually beginning to wear off by the time we arrive back at Kleighnorm. The layer of glass between me and the world seems thinner. The gap between my time zone and everyone else’s seems to be narrowing.

But Roman isn’t the least bit interested. He orders Liam to see me to my bedroom and a few minutes later he follows, bringing up a tray.

“We skipped lunch,” he says, placing the tray on the low table in the corner. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry.”

I prop myself a little higher on the bed, but don’t even glance at the plate. My stomach is too unsettled to eat. “Later, perhaps.”

Liam goes to investigate. “Lettuce. Ham.” He groans. “Freshly baked. The roll is still hot, Kee.”

“Go ahead,” I tell him with a small laugh.

He doesn’t hesitate. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

Roman comes to sit on the bed beside me, holding out a glass of water and two sedatives in an open palm.

“Even if you’re feeling better, Keegan, just have the one dose, okay?” His expression has lost none of its ashen hardness, but his tone is gentle, caring.

Keegan.
My name is a caress on his lips. I think maybe he’s been calling me by my name the whole day, since the accident, but I can’t be sure. I do know this is the first time I’ve noticed the way
Keegan
rumbles over his warm accent.

I scrape the pills from his palm and swallow them down with a sip of water.

“I’m tempted to take a couple myself,” he adds with a strained smile, “after the shock you gave me.”

He’s not talking about the car, but now that I’m finding my wits, I’m horrified. “I’m so sorry about your beautiful car.”

“A car’s easily replaced.” He takes the glass back, but doesn’t stand. His eyes sink into me. “I’m sorry you were put in danger, truly sorry. I haven’t had the Lam long and it’s been sitting at the show these last two weeks. From what Liam’s told me, I don’t know… I’m calling a team in to take a good look at it.”

“I’m sorry, too, Kee,” Liam says around a mouthful of his ham roll. “Thank God you’re okay. I can’t believe I lost control that easily. Hell Roman, maybe I panicked. There’s a lot of power under that hood, maybe more than I could handle.”

I slide down the bed a little to get more comfortable, clutching a pillow between my neck and shoulder.

It’s not just me, then. The accident has pulled down the walls of formality between them as well.
Liam. Roman.

I should probably have eaten something because the sedatives hit me hard, thickening my head. There’s a smile on my lips, though, as I drift into sleep.

The next time I open my eyes, the room is awash in twilight shadows. My throat is dry, my stomach hollow.

As I shuffle onto an elbow, I become aware of the fact that my boots have been tugged off and a comforter has been thrown over me.

“You’re awake,” Roman’s deep voice calls to me.

My eyes flick to the seating arrangement in the corner, find him seated low in the armchair, one leg squared over the other.

“How late is it?” I ask, thinking it must be close to supper. My stomach’s growling.

He checks his watch. “Nearly seven. The sun will be up soon.”

The sun will be up soon?
“Seven in the morning?”

“Nearly.” He stands, rolling his shoulders back. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” My head clears and I realise what his presence here means. “You spent the night in that chair, watching over me the entire time.”

“Not the entire time.”

A grin softens his jaw and the effect on me is velvet: a velvet stroke to my pulse.

He steps closer, his head cocked as he runs a hand through his hair. “I must have dozed off for long stretches.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I mean…” I look into his eyes, not sure what to do with this darkly beautiful stranger who calls me
Keegan
, grins softly and watches over me while I sleep. “I mean, thank you, but you didn’t have to.”

“I didn’t want you to have nightmares from your experience yesterday. Besides, the sedatives may have had an adverse effect.” He pauses at the end of the bed. “Maggie is usually up and about by now. Should I ask her to bring up some coffee?”

“That would be great.”

He nods, turns to go, and as my gaze follows him out, the hollow feeling in my stomach fills with a fuzzy warmth that I’m loathe to analyse.