Surrender (10 page)

She'd taken not even a rose to remind herself of him, of them, of their time together. He tunneled fingers through his hair, closed his eyes, and prayed for the sweet oblivion of nothingness.

* * * * *

As the late afternoon sun blazed a trail through the terrace windows, he woke up and squinted. A deep shroud of misery blanketed him so tightly he thought he'd suffocate. Maybe death would be more bearable than living without her. He forced himself into a sitting position and took a deep breath. That's when he saw them.

On his pillow lay two roses, one blush pink, the other blood crimson, all thorns removed, and cleverly woven into one blossom as only an experienced florist would know how to do.

What did the roses mean? Had she been trying to tell him something? A tiny thread of hope circled his heart. "Why did you leave me, Belle? Why?"
Because you were so hell bent on getting rid of her, you didn't give her a chance to talk,
you fool.

Rising to his feet, he grabbed the roses, inhaled the scent of both flower and Belle. Moments later, he raced back to his car, his heart pounding with hope.

"Damn!" He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, suddenly hating himself for treating her so abominably.

Hands shaking as he pulled into busy, rush hour traffic, Lyon attempted to keep his mind on the road but could only think of Isabella.

Belle had been right all along. He'd acted more like a beast than a human. And now, he may have lost her forever.

Unable to focus, he exited the expressway and cleared the tollbooth, his mind and heart focused on her beautiful smile, her gentle laugh. Tears obscured his vision for only a second. Then he blinked.

Suddenly, a deer appeared from out of the tree line. So distracted with thoughts of Belle, Lyon hadn't been paying attention to the winding, tree-edged country road or the animal crossing it.

He swerved but saw the tree too late.

It was the last thing he remembered before his world went black.

* * * * *

"Who am I kidding?" she said aloud. She'd never love another man like Lyon Sauvage. Her loneliness engulfed her, and it seemed as if one-half of her was missing. For three days in Lyon's arms, Isabella discovered things about herself she'd never known. Before Lyon, she'd only existed, going on day after day, taking care of the business and her father. In Lyon's arms, life eased back into her body and her heart. In his bed, the heat and passion of his lovemaking proved she had wants and needs only Lyon could fulfill. He'd taught her to rejoice in her own body and in his as well. If he'd found the roses on his pillow, he would have contacted her by now. Hours had passed since he left her.
Face the fact it's over. Get on with your life.
Exhausted and heartsick, she fell onto her sofa, too tired to undress. Seconds later, she fell into a deep slumber.

* * * * *

Hours later, feeling worse for wear, Isabella rubbed at her sore eyes, and ached for a shower. Padding into the bathroom, throwing off her shirt and bra on the way, she pushed her jeans down her legs.

And felt something in her back pocket.

What the . . . ?

She slid out Lyon's monogrammed silk handkerchief stained with a dot of her blood. Inside, the broken rose lay within the folds. The same handkerchief and rose she'd thrown at him in anger the first day she'd arrived at his home. The same rose Lyon had slid erotically down her body, bringing her to orgasm. Her fingers trembled as she brought the crushed petals to her nose and inhaled the faint floral fragrance. Tears brimmed over and slid unfettered down her cheeks, onto her breasts.

"Lyon, why didn't you tell me, my darling?" She pulled her clothes back on like a woman possessed, stepped into her sneakers, and grabbed the keys to her car. She had to get back to Lyon and convince him they belonged together.

She locked her front door and turned, only to see a black Town Car pull up to the curb outside her house.

It's him! Thank God
. Relief washed over her.
He's come back for me.
She hurried to the curb and approached the car. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her hands began to shake. But when the driver's side opened, her heart fell. It wasn’t Lyon but his assistant, Gerard.

"Ms. Beaumont?"

He looked haggard and unkempt for a man who always appeared fastidious.

"What is it?" Even as she asked, she knew something was terribly wrong.

"I'm afraid there's been an accident."

Isabella reeled and braced herself on his arm. She fought to catch her breath.

"What's happened? Lyon? Is he—?"

Gerard caught her before she hit the ground, supporting her around the waist.

"He's alive and in the hospital. He swerved to miss a deer and hit a tree. You know he'd rather die than hurt an animal. The air bag deployed, however, and the impact injured his face, resulting in several facial cuts and a slight concussion." Her heart sank. She could do nothing but stare at Lyon's assistant, while tears flowed freely down her cheek.

"He's in a coma, Miss. But I thought if you could talk to him, maybe—"

"Take me to him."

* * * * *

Isabella approached Lyon's bed in a room that looked more like a luxury suite in a five-star hotel than a hospital. Gerard dragged a heavy cushioned chair to the side of the bed. Isabella swallowed hard, swept the tears from her face, and cleared her throat. This wasn't the time to be weak. She perched herself on the wide arm of the chair, then allowed herself to look at him.

One eye was swollen shut. His cheek sported at least three cuts and several stitches marred his hairline and nose, no doubt due to the airbag. Tubes and machines surrounded him. Bags of fluids hung from a stand beside the bed, connected to his arm intravenously. His lips were swollen and purple and his chin bore additional unsightly stitches.

A machine near the bed monitored his breathing and other vital signs. He was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.

I love him.

"Lyon." She leaned close to his ear, sniffing back oncoming tears. "Lyon, darling, I'm here. Please wake up. Please, I need you."

Her tears fell unheeded onto his swollen lips and shone like perfect diamonds.

"I'll never leave you again, I promise." She whispered, gently kissing his injured eye. "You need to wake up so I can tell you how much I love you." She slid her hand lightly over his, careful not to touch the tubes or needles placed there to heal him. She needed to feel his warmth, his life force.

"Don't leave me," she begged, threading trembling fingers through his hair, to keep the connection between them. "Come back to me. I need you."

* * * * *

He felt something warm and wet on his mouth. Lyon fought his way through the haze of drugs and realized he was alive. If he were dead, there would be no pain. His entire body felt as if he'd been thrown from a cliff onto jagged rocks. Too bad, a crushed body would have been an improvement.

He sent up a silent prayer of thanks he'd been alone in the car. Had Belle been with him, God knows what would have happened to her. She may have been hurt or worse. The thought made him cringe. He couldn't open his eyes. Swollen and taped, no doubt. For a moment, he wondered if the deer had been hurt.

He'd been dreaming of Belle. She was at his side, proclaiming her love for him. A tender touch through his hair and gentle whispers told him something, but what?

Disorientation pulled at him, but Lyon refused to give in to his confusion. No, this was no dream.
Isabella.
Her scent blanketed him—her whispers, a healing balm to his broken heart. He dredged up the strength to lick the cool moisture on his lip and tasted salt.

Tears.

Yes, she was here . . . crying for him, telling him to wake up, she needed him. She loved him.

The doctor walked in. "I'm afraid visiting hours are over, Miss. You'll have to go. Mr. Sauvage needs his rest."

"She stays."

"Lyon, thank God." Her soft voice sounded like a church choir to Lyon's ears. She was here, with him, crying for him, holding his hand.

"Ma Belle." His voice was weak and he wanted to say . . . something. But he felt fuzzy and disoriented. It didn’t matter. Isabella was here.

"That's all right, darling, don’t talk. You need to rest." Her face was fading from view. He was so damned tired.

"But . . . ." He wanted to tell her . . . . He smelled roses and talc. God he loved her.

"Don't leave."

He felt a soft kiss on his swollen mouth. "Never. I'll be here when you wake up. Promise."

He fell asleep as hope filled his heart.

* * * * *

Something squeezed her hand and brought Isabella out of her uncomfortable slumber. She hurt from sleeping on the chair in Lyon's room all night, but she recognized that touch and sprang awake.

He laid there, his eyes open and fixed on her. Those beloved blue eyes, still tired from his ordeal, shined with happiness and something else. Hope? Love?

"Hi." She stood and leaned over him, bringing his hand to her mouth and kissing it gently, careful not to disturb the intravenous needle.

"Bon jour, ma Belle."
He smiled.

The doctor entered the room, interrupting their brief reunion. He nodded and approached the bed. Isabella stepped aside, and he proceeded to take Lyon's pulse, directed a stern look in her direction before checking Lyon's vital signs.

"Stop poking at me, I'm fine," Lyon stated.

"How is he, Doctor?" Isabella asked.

The chubby man cleared his throat. "He was seriously hurt. He needs rest."

"And I need Isabella." He announced in his raspy voice. "I can rest later." His words moved her to tears. "I'm not leaving." She stood her ground and moved closer to the bed, closer to him.

Lyon smiled and turned to look at her.

"Five minutes, Mr. Sauvage." The doctor exited the room. Smiling through her tears, she touched Lyon's wounded face. "If you were trying to get my attention, I have to tell you this is a little extreme, don't you think?"

"Well, I have it now, drastic as it may be."

She leaned closer and took his hand. "Don't be flip, Lyon. You could have been killed."

"Life would not have been worth living without you." She nodded, overwhelmed with emotion. "The doctor says you'll be all right." His lopsided grin made her smile. "Of course I will. Have a bitch of a headache, nothing more. I look worse than I feel."

"You're a terrible liar."

Isabella gasped at the strength in Lyon's hand when he squeezed hers. "Then you're not here out of pity or obligation."

"No, you stubborn man. I'm here because you weren't listening to me in the car." He lifted his hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Isabella kissed then weaved those beautiful fingers through her own.

"You left roses on my pillow," he whispered. "I had to come back for you, Belle."

"I've been waiting."

"For me?"

He seemed to hold his breath, waiting for her answer. "Yes."

"One question, Belle. Just one. "

"Ask."

"Do you love me?"

She lowered her head; she didn't want him to see her blubbering with more tears. He lifted her chin with a shaking, cool hand. "Do you?"

"More than you can imagine. Yes, I love you. I guess I always have. I just didn't have the sense to tell you. And I deeply regret all these years I took from us, years we could have been happy. But you knew didn't you?"

"Shh, darling, it's all right. You're here now. Nothing will keep us apart, ever again, nothing."

"Why did you pay the debt before I came to you?"

"Because I prayed you would come. In my heart, I knew a bond existed between us. Even through our friendship, we shared a strong connection. I never should have expected you to love me so soon after David left you. It was wrong, and so inappropriate. I should have been more patient."

Isabella shook away tears and managed a smile. "And I should have told you I overheard you and Gerard discussing the payment of the debt. I can only hope, in time, you can forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive. I was a fool to be angry with you. Maybe I was afraid that once you knew, you would leave before the weekend was over."

"But I didn't, did I?"

He closed his eyes, but didn’t speak. He kissed her hand then held it to his injured face.

"You've always had my heart and now, my soul. If you love me, there is nothing we cannot conquer together. I am only a beast, after all; you've said so yourself. So it seems after this fiasco, I now have more scars to add to the old ones."

"No, darling, your scars are part of who and what you are. I'm the beast for not seeing the love and beauty in your heart."

With a light touch, she brought her mouth to his injured face and tenderly kissed his wounds. "You are truly beautiful."

"I wish I could make love to you right here, right now," he said, his voice strained. She bent her head so he could whisper in her ear. "I cannot wait to bury myself in your warmth, to feel your heat when you respond to my touch. I need you, Isabella."

"Soon, my love, soon."

"Will you marry me and live with me at the castle, my love?"

"Yes, Lyon, I will."

"Je t'aime, ma Belle,"
he whispered.
"De tout mon Coeur."

"Je t'aime, le bête.
My beast."

~The End~

About the Author

Heather Peters was born in New York City and has been a lover of the romance novel since she read The Flame and the Flower and fell in love with Kathleen Woodiwiss. She started writing and hasn’t looked back since.

In between writing erotic romance, her day job nowadays is secretary for two very busy business owners. Her first erotic romance e-book, Toy With Me, is a December, 2009 Freya's Bower release. Her next release in mid-July, 2010 is Surrender, a contemporary Beauty and the Beast erotic romance, and later this year, Oz is a Red Sage release with her critique/writing partner, Eden Elgabri.