‘He’s not a serial offender.’ Lily let out a long breath. ‘Or at least, I don’t think so. He was my best friend’s older brother and he’s got a law degree, along with his father, grandfather and great-grandfather.’
‘You know him?’
‘Most sex crimes are committed by people known to the victim. Random acts are still thankfully rare, although they do happen.’ She knew she sounded like a police statement but she had heard the words so many times. ‘I guess that’s why I didn’t take any precautionary steps. I didn’t realise he was a threat until it was too late. Up until that night he’d been like a brother to me. But he was drunk and I was very tipsy. I thought we were just having a bit of a flirt with each other but suddenly everything changed. He got aggressive and before I knew it I was having unwanted sex. There was nothing I could do to stop it. He was very strong and I was under the influence of alcohol. I should have been more careful, but I guess everyone is wiser in hindsight.’
‘You’re blaming yourself for his lack of decency and control?’ He gave her an incredulous look. ‘How does that work? He should’ve realised you weren’t able to give proper consent. It was his responsibility, not yours.’
Lily couldn’t help a part-sad, part-wry smile. ‘In spite of being known as a ruthless playboy, you’re really a rather old-fashioned man, aren’t you?’
His expression was dark and brooding. ‘I’m not going to apologise for believing women deserve respect and protection.’ He glanced at her arms. ‘Is that why you started cutting?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of. The shame belongs to the man who took advantage of you. You were just trying to cope in the best way you could.’
‘It wasn’t a great way of coping.’ She let out a ragged sigh. ‘I wish I’d chosen something a little less permanent.’
‘What, like drugs or alcohol or smoking? They’re just other coping mechanisms, and they can have far more serious and dangerous implications in the long term.’
‘I hate my scars.’ Lily looked down at the white marks on her arms. ‘I wish I could erase them.’
‘Scars are a way of reminding ourselves of what we’ve learned in life. We all have them, Lily, it’s just that some are more visible than others.’
Lily looked into his strong yet kind eyes and wondered yet again how his fiancée could have left him. He was such a noble man, so proud and yet so honourable. What woman wouldn’t want to be loved and protected by such a man?
But then, he hadn’t loved his fiancée, or so he had said. Was he capable of loving? Some men weren’t. Neither were some women, and up until very recently she had been one of them.
Love?
You think you’re in love with him?
Are you completely nuts?
Lily rubbed her hands over her shivering arms. ‘I’ve been in the water too long.... I’d better go in. Do you need a hand getting out?’
‘No, I might stay in for a while. Try some of that walking in water you suggested.’
‘Is your cast still dry?’
‘So far.’
Lily got out of the pool and turned to look at him. He hadn’t moved at all. He was still watching her with a frown pulling at his brow. He looked so normal leaning there against the side of the pool. It was gut-wrenching to think his legs were not able to hold him upright. But maybe his limitations had given him the ability to understand hers. Or maybe he was just a truly wonderful man who didn’t deserve what life had thrown his way. Either way she knew she would never forget this night. Being in his arms, feeling normal and desirable, had touched her deeply. He had seen her scars and had wanted her anyway.
He had made her feel beautiful and she hadn’t felt that in a very long time.
* * *
Raoul waited until Lily had gone back inside the château before he moved from the side of the pool. His insides were churning at what she had gone through. He wanted to fix things for her, to seek justice, to undo the wrong that had been done to her. It seemed so unfair that she had suffered for so long on her own, hiding herself behind shapeless clothes, downplaying her features, living half a life in order to avoid a repeat of what had happened. The scars on her arms did nothing to detract from her beauty, or at least not as far as he was concerned. He had always thought she was stunning, but even more important to him was her inner beauty. She was kind-hearted and gentle, compassionate yet spirited.
He felt deeply ashamed for thinking she had only come for the money. How could he have misread her so appallingly? She had wanted to leave at the first opportunity because she didn’t feel safe. He had probably terrified her with his snarly comments and black looks. But, in spite of her fear, she had been drawn to him.
He thought of the way she kissed him, so unrestrainedly, as if for those few moments she had acted purely on instinct and allowed herself to be who she was truly meant to be. What would it take to unlock that frozen passion for good? To get her to come out of her protective shell and live life the way it was meant to be lived?
Was he the man to do it?
How could he help her when he couldn’t even help himself? He was stuck in a chair with legs that refused to work. He had nothing to offer her other than an affair to remember. He could just imagine her telling her friends about it some time in the future—the little fling she’d had with a guy in a wheelchair to get her confidence back. What a story that would be to dine out on.
He couldn’t think of anything worse.