‘Please.’ His voice was curt. ‘Just leave.’
Miranda went over to him, undaunted by his terse tone. She didn’t want to be dismissed. Pushed away. Rejected. She didn’t want their wonderful physical connection to be overshadowed by an argument that should never have happened. What they had shared was too important. Too special to be tainted by a misunderstanding. She placed a gentle hand on his arm, looking up at his tautly set features. ‘Please don’t push me away,’ she said. ‘Not now. Not after what we shared.’
He looked at her for a beat or two before he placed his hand over hers where it was resting on his arm. He gave her hand a light squeeze, the line of his mouth rueful. ‘You’re right,’ he said on the back end of a sigh. ‘I should’ve come back before now.’
Miranda put her arms around him and held him close. ‘You’re back now,’ she said, resting her cheek against his chest. ‘That’s all that matters.’
Leandro held her against him. ‘It was hard...seeing him like that,’ he said. ‘Every time he came to London I had to prepare myself for spending time with him. No matter what time we agreed on meeting, he’d always been a couple of drinks down before I got there. Over the last couple of years it got progressively worse. He would sometimes be so drunk he would start crying and talking incoherently. Other times he would be angry and abusive. All I could think was it was my fault. That I had done that to him.’
Miranda looked up at him with tears in her eyes. ‘It wasn’t your fault.’
His look was grim. ‘He never wanted me to come back here after the divorce. He made it clear he couldn’t handle having a child around.’
‘Maybe he was worried he wouldn’t be able to look after you properly,’ Miranda said. ‘Maybe he just didn’t know how to be a parent without having your mum around. Lots of divorced dads are like that, especially back then, when dads weren’t so hands-on as they are now.’
‘I let things slide as the years went on,’ he said. ‘Even as an adult it was easier to stay away than to come back and relive the nightmare. But I should’ve come back before now. I should’ve allowed my father to die with some measure of peace.’
Miranda hugged him close again. ‘I’m not sure there’s much peace to be had when you’ve lost a child. But at least you’re doing what he wanted you to do—taking care of everything he left behind.’
He brushed one of his hands down the back of her head, his gaze meshing with hers. ‘Don’t go back to your room,’ he said. ‘Stay here with me.’
Miranda wondered if he was allowing her the dignity of not being dismissed now they had made love or whether he truly wanted her to spend the night with him. She didn’t know what his arrangement was with other women but she hoped this invitation to sleep the whole night with him was a unique offer. ‘Are you sure?’ she said.
He lowered his mouth to within reach of hers. ‘You don’t take up much space. I bet I won’t even notice you there.’
‘Then I’ll have to make sure you do,’ Miranda said softly as his mouth came down and sealed hers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LEANDRO HADN’T PLANNED to spend the night with Miranda but, just like when he had run into her in London, it had come out of his mouth as if his brain had no say in it at all. So much for the rules, he thought as he watched her sleeping. He never spent the full night with anyone. It wasn’t just because he was too restless a sleeper. He didn’t want to get too connected, too comfortable with having someone beside him when he woke up. He didn’t allow himself to think of long, lazy mornings in bed. Not just making love but talking, dreaming, planning. Hoping.
She looked so beautiful his heart squeezed. Had he done the wrong thing in engaging in an affair with her? He had been so adamantly determined to keep his distance as he had always done in the past. But being alone with her changed everything. That first touch...that first heart-stopping kiss...had made him realise how deep and powerful their connection was. Hadn’t he always sensed that connection? Wasn’t that why he had respectfully kept clear of her? He hadn’t wanted to start something he couldn’t finish.
But now it had started.
He didn’t want to think about how it was going to finish, but finish it must, as all his relationships did.
Her inexperience hardly put them on an equal footing. But he wanted her to realise how crazy it was to put a pause button on her life. He hated seeing her waste her potential because of a silly little schoolgirl promise that had been well meant but totally misguided. She was young—only twenty-three years old. At thirty-three, Leandro felt ancient in comparison. She was far too young to be living like a nun. Her whole life was ahead of her. She had experienced tragedy, yes, but it didn’t mean she couldn’t find happiness again—if in fact she had actually been happy with Mark Redbank.