“Why not?” he demanded. “You don’t want to be the center of attention?” It was the only excuse he could accept. He wouldn’t force her into something that made her uncomfortable.
“Those romantic dreams were a young girl’s rescue fantasy.” She waved them away as she disentangled herself from his embrace. “I’ve grown up, got my head on straight. I don’t need some empty gesture because you feel guilty. I’m fine. We’re fine.” Her smile was soft and lovely and tried hard to disguise a deep insecurity.
He stared at her, aware he only had himself to blame. “You still don’t trust me,” he accused gently.
“Of course I do.”
“You don’t believe my feelings for you are as strong as yours are for me.” He was insulted to the core by that, but this wasn’t about him. It was about the fragile self-worth he’d damaged too many times.
“I—” What could she say? It was true. “I’m not trying to start a fight. I know things will only get better from now on.”
He allowed the conversation to end there and they returned to Lucy, then went to the hospital for an introduction to her father. By the time they crawled into bed, she truly felt they were on their way to a stronger relationship than ever. He made love to her with the same sweet power as always and held her all night long.
And then he took over in that mildly annoying way of his, throwing Faye for a loop, checking to see if their house needed modifications for when her father came home. He had a man-to-man chat with her father about his finances, too.
“Don’t hurt his pride,” she urged before he left for the hospital, and got a pithy look.
“I want him to know he has a fallback if he doesn’t get on his feet right away. I take care of my family,” Raoul said.
For the first time in a very long time, she began to feel she had a cohesive family. With her confidence renewed in her position as a mother and his wife, she tried to let go of her baggage and enjoy her time with her father and sister. Faye became someone she shook her head over, rather than taking her words to heart, especially after her father remarked on their relationship.
“After your mother died, I saw you growing up so fast, trying to take on all her responsibilities. I married the first woman who looked like she’d have me, hoping to give you back your childhood, but it didn’t work. You two never connected. You were so independent. Faye didn’t know what to make of you. Moving here, I honestly didn’t think you’d miss us or that it would be so long until I saw you again. You sounded happy with your job and traveling...”
Startled by this view of herself, she asked Raoul later, “Do I take charge of everything?”
“You’ve taken over the renovations of the penthouse.”
“You told me to—oh!” She caught a glimpse of the grin he was suppressing and gave him a little shove.
He snagged his arm around her and warmed her with an admiring look. “You’re smart and confident and good at anything you chose to do. Which might threaten some men, but I need that sort of inner strength in my wife. It’s reassuring to me that you won’t give up and drop out on me.”
“No, never,” she promised.
In fact she felt more integral and necessary to him all the time. He changed the access on all his accounts so they were joint holdings and made it her job to keep everything balanced. She reeled under the depth of responsibility and trust he was showing in her.
Perhaps they were going to make it after all.
By the end of the following week her father was well into his recovery and they were winding up their visit. They were keeping the penthouse for future visits, planning two a year at least, but Raoul really did work best out of London. Everything was returning to a steady, reliable keel and if she felt a little wistful each time he said he loved her, she told herself to be grateful he was able to say the words, even if he didn’t mean them the way she did.
The day before they were to leave, Sirena woke late. Raoul had pulled his favorite trick of stealing both baby and monitor, but since he’d been rather passionate last night, not seeming able to get enough of her, she appreciated the extra sleep. Her body was a teensy bit achy in the best possible way, making her feel sensual and well loved even as she was disturbed by the memory of his near-frenetic hunger for physical connection.
Was something wrong? She went looking for him, and reassurance, as soon as she rose.
The flat was small, so it was easy to find him in the lounge, where a muted instrumental was playing, giving the sunny room a lazy Sunday feel. He’d bought her flowers yesterday, enough for three vases, filling the room with splashes of color.
He was closing the main door and had a royal-blue garment bag in his hand. As he moved to drape it over the back of the sofa, he saw her. “Good morning.”
Did he sound extra serious? Her tummy gave a flutter of apprehension.
“Good morning. Where’s Lucy?” she asked, bending her brow at the fancy logo on the bag. What was it?
“Ali just took her upstairs.”
“To the penthouse? Why? I thought we were all having lunch—”
The way he approached, all serious looking in his crisp white shirt and perfectly creased pants, gave her another hitch of anxiety. He was so damned good-looking, freshly shaved and with his new haircut—something he’d sought out himself yesterday without asking her to book it. Very out of character.
In fact, lots of odd details were adding up in her mind to something going on that was being kept from her.
He took her hands and she almost pulled them away, suddenly quite worried, but not sure of what. All her inner signals of conspiracies and loss were firing.
Don’t, she told herself, forcing herself to trust him by letting her fingers relax in the firm grasp of his.
He frowned at how chilly her hands were. Emotion seemed to catch at him in a way he couldn’t control, causing a flinch across his features. The line of his closed lips wasn’t entirely steady and for a second he seemed to struggle to meet her eyes. When he did, her heart bottomed out.
This was big. Whatever it was, it was big and scary.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“You’re so beautiful,” he said, as if it hurt him.
She shook her head. Not right now she wasn’t, wearing only a robe that had taken a splash of coffee yesterday, eyes still smudged with last night’s makeup, hair tousled from their extensive lovemaking. Her lips were chapped, her—
Stop it, she told herself. If he said she was beautiful, she had to believe that to him she was. It was just so hard when he looked so uncharacteristically hesitant.
“Raoul?” she prompted.
“I’m not trying to be mysterious, Sin. I’m nervous as hell. I—well, there’s nothing to say except...” He released her and took a half step back.
She closed her hands into fists, drawing them tight into her stomach, where serpents seemed to be writhing.
To her eternal shock, he drew something from his pocket and lowered to one knee. Holding out a ring pinched between his finger and thumb, he said, “Will you marry me?”
Sunlight glanced off the diamond, throwing rainbow sparkles into her vision. The moment was imprinted for all time: the delicate notes of music behind the question, the perfume of freesias and roses, the way her heart began to pound with sheer joy, the naked feelings in Raoul’s beloved face as he looked up at her: desire, regard, admiration.
She realized she couldn’t speak because she’d clapped her hands over her mouth. “We’re already married,” she reminded him from behind them.
“I want to marry you properly. Everyone is upstairs waiting for us.”
Her eyes grew wet as she goggled at him.
“I know you didn’t want this,” he continued. His voice seemed to come from very deep in his chest. “But I need to know you want to be married to me as much as I love being married to you. I’ve spoken to your father, told him everything, asked him for your hand...”
“You what?” she gasped. Her heart tried to jump from her chest. She was both touched and alarmed, unable to process it.
“He took his time thinking about it, and I don’t blame him.” His shoulders took on a weighted slant. “If I could go back and change things...but I can’t. I know why you think I married you. I know you think I’m only trying to assuage guilt. I’m not. Although it would certainly reassure me if you said yes in spite of everything I’ve done.”
The regret in his eyes was too painful to face.
“Don’t,” she murmured, moving forward to graze her hands over his ears, startled when he locked his arm around her and pressed his face into her middle.
“You will make even the most impossible relationships work so you can stay in the lives of the people you love. I know that about you, Sin.” Anguish seemed to hold him in a paroxysm that nearly suffocated her, but she only held him tighter. “You’ll be tempted to say yes to me today simply because you hate letting me down. But I can’t bear you thinking my love for you is impossible, that what I feel for you isn’t real.”
“I—” Her arms involuntarily loosened and he surged to his feet, grasping her by the shoulders and compelling her with the force of his personality to take heed.