An Heir for the Millionaire

‘Yes, I did. I did and I do!’ Her voice was fierce, so fierce.

His thumbs rubbed on her collarbone, slow and strange.

‘You gave yourself away, Clare. Just now. Gave yourself away. For the first time. The only time. Gave yourself clean away. And now I know, don’t I? I know why you walked away from me never to return, not even for your clothes, your books, your tooth-brush—everything you left at my apartment.’

‘You should be grateful that I did. Grateful.’ The fierceness was still in her voice, raw and rasping. ‘I must have been the easiest mistress to dump you’d ever had.’

His face stilled. There was something very strange in his eyes. Very strange indeed. She couldn’t tell what it was. It must be the sun blinding her. That was all it could be…

For a long, endless moment he was silent. She felt the gentle lap of water round her feet. Felt the hot sun beating down on her. Felt his hands over her shoulders, pressing down on her. They were completely still—like him.

Then, into the silence, he spoke.

‘You were the hardest,’ he said.

Her eyes flared. ‘The hardest?’ she jeered bitterly. ‘You said “It’s over” and I went! I went without a question, without a word! I just went!”

‘You were the hardest,’ he said again.

He dropped his hands from her. She felt bereft.

His face was sombre.

‘I got rid of you because I had to. To save my sanity. To keep me safe. Because I was scared—in the biggest danger I’d ever been in. And I couldn’t hack it.’ His jaw tightened. ‘When I went to New York that last time I knew I had to act. I knew I could put it off no longer. Because the danger was—terrifying. And I knew when I came back that I had to deal with it. Fast. Urgently. Permanently.’

His eyes rested on her. They had no expression in them. She had seen them look that way before…

‘So I did. I dealt with it. Immediately. Ruthlessly. Brutally.’

He paused again. ‘And it worked. Worked so perfectly. But as I realised that you had simply…gone…I realised something else as well.’

His eyes were still on her. Expressionless eyes. Except for one faint, impossible fragment…

‘I realised,’ he said, and each word fell from him like a weight, ‘I would have given anything in the world to have you back.’

His eyes moved past her. Out to the sea beyond. A sea without limits. Without a horizon.

‘But you were gone. As if I’d pressed a button. Just…gone. I started to look for you, to wait for you. You had to come back—you’d left everything with me. So you had to come back. But you never did. You just—vanished.’

‘You said I did it to try and make you come after me.’ Her voice was still very faint.

He kept looking out to sea, far out to sea. As if into the past.

‘I wanted it to be for that reason. I wanted it to be for any reason that meant that you didn’t want to go. That you wanted to come back to me—that you wanted me to come after you.’ He breathed in harshly, spoke harshly. ‘That you did feel something for me. Then—when finally I’d accepted that when I’d said “It’s over” to you, you had indeed gone for ever—then…’ His eyes went to her, hard, unforgiving. ‘I told myself that I had made the right decision after all—that there was no point regretting it, no point wishing I had not done what I had. You’d felt nothing for me. Nothing at all. Which meant I had to move on, get over it. Get on with my life. So that’s what I did. I had no choice—you were gone. So I got on with my life.’

She shut her eyes, then opened them again.

‘You were angry with me when you saw me again.’

The sombre look was in his eyes again.

‘I was angry with you because you’d been able to walk away from me without a second glance. With nothing—nothing at all. I was angry with you because you’d made me live with the choice I’d made. The decision I’d made. To play safe. And by playing safe to lose what I most wanted.’

He took another harsh breath. ‘You. That’s what I wanted. You.’

She looked into his eyes. ‘Why?’ It was all she said—all she could say.

Something moved in his eyes.

‘Why?’ His voice changed. ‘Why?’ he echoed. ‘Because I wanted you there, still. With me. Not to let you go.’ He looked at her again. ‘It scared me. I’d never wanted that before. Never. Not with any woman. Not even with you until I realised, that last time we had together, before I went to New York, that you had become important to me. And it scared me—scared me senseless—because I had never felt anything like that before, because it made me feel afraid and out of control—and worst, worst of all, it made me realise that I had no idea, none, of what you felt.’

He looked at her.

‘You never showed your emotions to me, Clare. You were always so reserved. I couldn’t read you—I didn’t know what you felt, if you felt anything at all. That scared me even more. So I wanted out. Because that was the safest call to make.’

His eyes slipped past her again.

‘I was a fool,’ he said heavily. ‘I made the wrong call. And because of that I lost you. And I lost the son you were carrying. The son you hid from me. And now I know why—I know why you never told me about Joey.’

His gaze shot to her again, holding her like rods of fire. ‘I know why, and the knowledge kills me. And it hurts me to think what I did to you last night. Do you know why I did it, Clare—do you?’

His hands had come up again, to lie heavy on her shoulders. ‘I deliberately, cold-bloodedly took you to bed last night with one purpose only—to get you pregnant. I had to get you pregnant! I had to. Because if you were pregnant again, then this time, this time, you would have to marry me. You couldn’t turn me down. I’d make sure of it. And that way I’d get Joey—I’d get Joey, and he’s all I wanted. When I discovered you’d hidden my son from me, the only reason I could come up with for why you’d done it was to punish me for finishing with you. The reaction of a woman scorned. And it vindicated me. Vindicated what I’d done to you, the call I’d made. A woman who could vengefully hide my son from me wasn’t a woman I wanted in my life, wasn’t a woman I should…care about. But that wasn’t why you hid Joey from me, was it, Clare? Was it?’

‘No.’ It was a whisper. All she could manage.

‘It was because I hurt you,’ he said. ‘I hurt you so badly that night at the St John that all you could do was walk. Run. Hide. For ever. And there was only one reason why I could have hurt you.’

His hands slid from her shoulders, cupping her face, lifting it to his so that she had to look deep, deep into his eyes.

‘Why was I able to hurt you, Clare? Hurt you so badly?’ His voice was strained. Desperate. ‘Please tell me—please. I don’t deserve it—but—’

‘I was in love with you,’ she said.

For one long, agonising moment there was silence. Then, ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘Thank God.’

His thumbs smoothed along her cheekbones. Silent tears were running.

‘Don’t cry, Clare. Don’t ever cry for me again. I’ll never let you cry again. Not for me. Not ever for me.’

He gazed down into her swimming eyes. ‘I’m going to do everything in my power, Clare, to win that love again. Everything. Because, fool that I was—that I am—fool that I have been in everything to do with you—I at least now know this. I had fallen in love with you then, four years ago, and didn’t realize—refused to believe I was capable of it And I still love you. I know that completely and absolutely, because last night—’ he gave a shuddering breath ‘—last night was my own punishment. My punishment for having denied what I felt for you—a terrible punishment. Because last night I realised, with all the horror in the world, that I still love you—love a woman who had felt nothing for me, had been able to walk away from me without a word, who had wreaked vindictive revenge on me for having spurned her by keeping my own son from me.

‘But it was never, never that that stopped you telling me about Joey. It was because you could not bear to have anything to do with the man who had hurt you—because you love me.’ His voice changed, and she could hear the pain in it. ‘I’ve wronged you so much, Clare. Four years ago I hurt you unbearably—and I’ve hurt you again. I can’t ask for your love again, but I will win it back—with all my being. Ah, no, don’t weep, Clare—not for me, never for me!’ His thumbs smoothed again, but her eyes were spilling, spilling uncontrollably, and her face was crumpling, and she couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop.

He wrapped her to him. And the feel of his arms going about her, holding her so close, so safe, was the most wonderful feeling in all the world, all there could ever be. He held her so tightly, as if he would never, could never let her go. She could hear words, murmuring, soothing, and she could not understand them, but it did not matter.

She could hear them in her heart. Know them in her heart.

And it was all she needed. All she would ever need.