To Love, Honour and Disobey (7 page)

‘And you won.’

‘There were no winners, not in a case like that,’ Seb still felt the anger. ‘There was a kid, Ana. A kid who
when old enough will look back at that case and see that his father didn’t want him, didn’t want to know him, didn’t want to spend time with him and that he was forced by the court to pay money to help raise him. How’s that going to make him feel? And it happens all the time. Either the kids are rejected or they’re torn apart as the bargaining chip between two bitter parents.’

He always encouraged counselling, mediation, out-of-court settlements—anything to try to make it easier because those people had to deal with each other when they had kids. There was no end, no finality. All it was was a mess.

‘Was that what it was like for you, when your parents broke up?’

He froze. Should have known that was where she was headed. That was why he never usually discussed his parents with women—they always wanted to probe deeper than he liked to go. ‘I was the bargaining chip, I guess. They both fought for me, over me.’

But even though they’d both wanted him, he hadn’t been enough. Not enough to hold them together, not enough to make either of them happy. Most of their problems had been because they hadn’t been able to have another child. He—their one child—hadn’t fulfilled them.

‘I guess being fought over is better than being unwanted.’ He glanced up in time to catch her quick flinch and wanted to cut out his tongue. He reached across and touched her hand. ‘Hey, I’m sorry.’

‘It’s OK.’ But her fingers slipped from his. ‘You’re right.’

He’d had no idea about her past. But now he did,
it just reinforced his decision on what he planned to do with his own life. ‘I’m never having children.’

‘Me, either.’

His brows lifted—didn’t all women have a clucky side somewhere? ‘Why not?’

She was staring at the board. ‘Because I don’t want anyone else going through what I went through.’

OK, so they had more in common than he’d ever thought. ‘Nor do I.’

She suddenly broke into a big smile. ‘Time to pay up, big-shot. I just won.’

The longer they spent playing in the shade, the more outrageous the prizes for winning became—playful, teasing, and at one point, at her instigation, downright kinky. Seb’s sense of reality receded. It was like that mad week again—where all that mattered was touching her, being close to her. He simply couldn’t get enough.

Ana was brushing her hair when she heard Seb swear. She turned, surprised at the vehemence. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘We’re out of condoms.’ He growled, a bitter, frustrated sound. ‘Hell, the last time we had a holiday fling we got married. This time it’d be just the thing if I knocked you up.’

Her mind blanked. She heard a clatter and blindly reached out; her hand struck the wall. But the pain didn’t bring the world back.

‘Ana?’ He was beside her, his hands on her waist steadying her. ‘Are you OK? What happened?’

She opened her mouth to say ‘nothing’. But he was so close, watching so closely. She saw as his thoughts
tracked back over what he’d said, and down that horrible thorny path. She swayed again, suddenly remembering. It happened sometimes—with something so simple, a word, an image perhaps, just something that triggered the avalanche of hurt. It swamped her. So fresh, so raw, it could have been yesterday.

‘Ana?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘What’s going on?’ He inhaled sharply. ‘No.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘No.’

She stared, unable to move as she watched him work it out.

‘Oh, my God. I did knock you up.’ He gaped. ‘Is that where you’ve been this last year—having my baby? Where the hell is it? What have you done?’

‘Nothing!’ She snapped. ‘I’ve done nothing. You’re wrong.’ She backed away from him right up against the wall. ‘You’re so far wrong.’

‘No, I’m not.’ He followed, trapping her with his big body. ‘Don’t even think about lying to me. Were you pregnant?’

She closed her eyes. ‘Yes.’

‘Then where—?’ He broke off. Took a breath and spoke with furious deliberation. ‘You said you don’t want kids. Did you…did you get rid of my baby?’

‘Of course I didn’t!’ she yelled in his face. ‘It’s because of what happened that I don’t want kids. I’m not going through that again. I’m not losing another child again.’

‘What happened?’ Horrified, he asked, ‘Damn it, tell me what happened.’

‘I had a miscarriage.’ She felt sick as the pain seared into her. She hadn’t spoken of it in months but all of a sudden it was present—right in the room—the agony.

‘My baby.’ His lips barely moved.

‘Yes.’

‘Miscarried.’ He looked down. There was a long silence.

She put her fingers to her forehead. Waiting, knowing the questions were coming and unable to bear having to answer them. She’d never wanted to have to answer them.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?’

She closed her eyes—just for a moment. ‘I didn’t want to.’

She heard his sharp inhalation and spoke quickly, preventing his interruption. ‘I was hurt.’ He’d shattered her illusions so ruthlessly that day when he’d come home more over the moon about his promotion than he’d ever been about marrying her. They’d rowed and she’d run. A couple of weeks later when she’d found out she was pregnant she had still been so hurt that there had been no way she was ever going to tell him. But a couple of weeks after that, reality had started to sink in. ‘I knew I was going to have to talk to you. I was just…’

‘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.

S
EB
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?

He stood, unable to keep from moving a moment longer. He couldn’t think any more. Couldn’t do anything but bow to instinct. He knelt on the bed, leaned over her, pressing her back against the pillows so she was in no doubt of his need.

And her hands lifted, fingers wide as she put her palms to his scalp and pulled him closer still. Her mouth opened beneath his and she kissed him with the same sort of desperation he was drowning in.

And for a moment, just a moment, he was sorry she hadn’t asked for more.

This was it, wasn’t it—the searing attraction, the need for that deep indulgence? Despite everything it was still at the centre of it all. Nothing less, nothing more.

Ana’s breath took for ever to regulate, and only moments after it had, she shifted in his arms, woke him, roused him again. Determined this time, to get it right and see it to the end. Because at the back of her mind the clock was ticking—Africa was all they had. When they said goodbye to the heat, they said goodbye to each other.

And she knew she had the strength to do that. This past year had shown her she had the strength to handle anything—even him.

She was glad he knew. Had never thought she’d feel that, but his sensitivity had surprised her. She’d appreciated the comfort of his arms as she’d cried. And she’d seen the hurt in him too—somehow that had helped soothe her own. She wasn’t alone in her sadness for the baby any more—he felt it; he understood something of it. And that was enough to make it that little bit more bearable.

They spent the day swimming, sleeping. Not talking of anything but commonplaces, playing bao, keeping it light. And yet they turned to each other even more frequently than before. The passion fast, hungry and still never enough.

The tiny island was exquisite and offered every comfort, yet with the luxury came other facilities—phone, fax, email. In the late afternoon she watched him take his PDA over to the office. Yes. Real life was going to have to intrude—they couldn’t avoid the future for ever. She went to their banda, giving him the space to get his messages in private. She didn’t want to know, didn’t want to become involved in his life back in London. The separation was looming and it was best to start distancing now. But when he walked in twenty minutes later his expression was too grim for her to ignore. ‘Bad news?’

He pressed a button and tossed the gadget onto the table by the bed. ‘Dad reckons he’s getting married again.’

‘No way. Who to?’ Ana gaped.

‘What with Mum going for the fourth last year, they’re just a joke.’ He flopped back on the bed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. ‘I can’t believe it. And it’s happening Saturday. This
Saturday
.’ He groaned. ‘So soon—why the hell is he in such a rush?’

The giggle just bubbled from her. ‘Like father, like son, I guess.’

‘What?’ He lifted his head up and then grinned—sort of. ‘Oh, yeah. But that’s not–’

‘Yeah.’ Not real. She watched him clearly struggle with the news. ‘Does it really matter, Seb?’

‘I can understand them having lovers—fine,’ he said, throwing his arms wide on the bed. ‘Have as many as they want. But what’s with all the weddings?’

‘You don’t think it’s kind of romantic?’

‘No. It’s desperate.’

‘Seb—’

‘Look, you haven’t been ring-bearer too many times over.’ He sat up. ‘It’s tacky.’

‘So it’s all frills and fifty bridesmaids?’

‘Ugh,’ he groaned again, but eventually it turned into a laugh. ‘Depends. No two are ever the same.’

‘Have you met this bride?’

‘Briefly.’ He shook his head. ‘I didn’t think it was serious. But I guess he was one behind Mum on the wedding count so he had to catchup.’

‘You’re kidding.’

‘No. Allocation of assets, experiences—they’ve got to make sure they have exactly the same.’

‘But there was only one of you. How did they go about sharing you?’

He looked at her, shrugged in a helpless, resigned kind of way. And instead of answering, he asked, ‘Ana…?’

She knew what he wanted. And she gave it.

When she woke late the next morning she found he was already dressed and looking distant.

‘You’d better pack your bag, Ana. We’re leaving at lunchtime.’

So that explained why he’d barely let her rest through the night. Why he’d woken her time and time again with his incredible caresses. The hour had chimed.

Mentally, he’d already left, his mind miles away as he stared out over the water—clearly not seeing the beauty of it, judging by the size of the frown on his face. Was his problem still his father? She didn’t ask; Africa was at an end and she needed to withdraw,
too—to handle it with maturity. It was the contract they’d agreed.

Ten minutes later she stood on the deck and watched him swimming, tireless strong strokes as he went back and forth parallel to the beach. She was fascinated.

And then she cursed her idiocy. She wasn’t going to stand all morning staring at him. So she went to the main complex, quite determined to find something to do to fill in the few hours till they left. She found the perfect distraction in the beauty spa.

‘Where have you been?’ He looked grumpy as she strode to where he waited by the boat, the bags already stowed.

‘I went for a massage.’

‘I’d have given you one.’

She shook her head and laughed. ‘You know we’re over that.’

He met her gaze for a moment and then looked away. She stood on the boat, smiled and waved to Hamim and then turned her back to the island. Determined to look ahead—in everything.

Only hours later Seb led the way onto the big plane. Ana had never flown first class before and looked around at the amazing space.

‘We could have gone another class up.’ He watched her investigate all the things in the toiletry bag.

‘There’s another class?’

‘Beyond first class we could have had our own suite.’ He looked wistful. ‘Big bed and everything. But it was booked.’

Thank goodness for that. She’d already mentally resigned herself to the fact she’d slept with him for the
last time. And after what she’d let the beautician on Mnemba do this morning, there was no way she wanted him to see her even partially naked. It had been a good method of restraint.

He read her expression with grim humour. ‘You don’t want to join the mile-high club with me?’

‘Not today.’ It wasn’t even a lie. Then she saw his surprise turn to determination. Felt his shift towards her as the atmosphere between them thickened to intimate. ‘No, Seb, we’ve left Africa.’

‘We’re still in its airspace, aren’t we?’

‘No.’ They were over it and she was not,
not
, succumbing again.

Their luggage was the first on the carousel—one of the perks of spending ridiculous amounts of money on seats that became surprisingly comfortable beds. Not that he’d slept a wink of the flight. She pre-empted his move to take her bag, swinging it nonchalantly onto a trolley. He felt super grumpy now.

She turned to him ‘Thanks—’

‘I’ve ordered a cab.’ He cut her off. ‘It should be there by now.’

‘Um…I’ll be OK—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Ana, at least let me see you safely to your place.’

They walked to the rank and he climbed into the cab after her. ‘You’re staying with Phil?’ he asked shortly.

‘Yes.’

A flare of jealousy spiked into Seb’s chest. Stupid. He wasn’t surprised Phil hadn’t said she’d been staying with him. His loyalty was greater to Ana than
to him. But it annoyed him nonetheless. If Phil had been honest he might have got to Ana before she’d gone to Africa. Hell, how long had she been staying there?

Added to that, the thought of those two guys sitting either side of her on the sofa drinking their soy decaff lattes or whatever namby-pampy juice was flavour of the month, listening to her pour heart and soul out to them, got his hackles on end. She’d talk to them as she didn’t to him. God, had Phil known about the baby—his baby?

The cab pulled in front of Phil’s building. It wasn’t far from Seb’s home. But it was far enough to bother him. ‘I’ll help you with your bag.’

She raised a single brow. It was only the one pack but he was delaying the inevitable.

She rang the bell. ‘I have a key if they’re not home.’

Of course she did. But they were home. The footsteps came faster; Seb glared up at the security camera.

‘Ana!’

It was Jack—Phil’s partner. The most conservative-as-they-come accountant you’d ever meet in your life. Older than Phil by a good ten years, he was the anchor to the flamboyant interior-design genius who’d just appeared in the doorway behind him.

‘Darling.’ Phil pushed past Jack and hauled Ana into his arms. ‘I was beginning to think you’d been eaten by a crocodile.’

‘Something like that.’ Ana’s tone was caustic.

‘Seb.’ Phil’s eyes glinted as he tilted his head to see who was behind her. ‘The crocodile, I presume,’ he added, closing the door behind them.

Ana turned, looked surprised to see Seb still standing there. ‘What about the cab?’

‘It can wait. The meter’s still running.’ He wasn’t ready to leave yet.

‘Drink, Seb?’

‘Thanks.’ He followed them through to the lounge. He’d had no intention of stopping for a drink. A quick goodbye and that was it. But perversity seemed necessary right now.

Phil sent him an assessing glance and went straight to the harder stuff. ‘Whisky?’

‘Thanks.’ Single malt. One thing to be said about Phil, he had impeccable taste.

‘I might just put my bag in my room.’ So Ana wanted to run, huh?

‘Jack will do it, darling,’ Phil said smoothly. He took a sip from his glass and then smiled. ‘Fancy you two meeting up in Africa.’

‘Just fancy,’ Seb said coolly, refusing to rise to Phil’s stirring. Ana would find out it had been her friend who’d told him where she’d gone. What she would read into that he was sure he didn’t care.

‘I didn’t know you guys knew each other all that well.’ Ana hadn’t touched her wine. She looked tired and suddenly Seb’s arms ached with emptiness.

‘Seb’s a client now,’ Phil answered.

‘A very valuable one,’ Seb added drily. He’d paid a huge fee to Phil. But he’d been worth it. Purely for the fringe benefits—namely his association with Ana. Phil had all the info. But even he hadn’t revealed she was actually staying with him.