For King and Country (31 page)

Never again.

The tears fell hard and fast, tremors racking through my body as I staggered to a recess in the wall. Crumpling to the ground, I broke down. I could have been there for minutes or hours or days. Time had ceased. I didn’t care if the sun rose again or if the world halted on its axis. Nothing mattered.

I succumbed to darkness as pain pulled me under. I had trusted him, I had given myself to him, and he’d destroyed me. Just like he told me he would.

Hands lifted me from the darkness and cradled me tenderly, but when I opened my eyes, I was still in my nightmare. Edward held me with steady arms, carrying me back toward my room, whispering small words of comfort that did nothing to alleviate the agony ripping me apart.

Forcing myself to speak, my words catching on parched lips, I stopped him. “I need to leave.”

“You should rest,” he suggested in a gentle voice. “I’ll take you to my room if you want.”

But I shook my head. “Please. I need to go home.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Edward agreed, not arguing further. “Clara, you don’t have to tell me, but what happened?”

“I fell in love with him,” I said, my words brittle and unwanted on my parched lips.

Edward didn’t speak, but his arms tightened around me. We both understood that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

I
turned the key over in my hand, still trying to decode its meaning. But its existence was as unfathomable to me as Alexander’s absence from my life. Two weeks later, and I was still trying to convince myself that I had done the right thing. There’d been no word from him. No phone calls. My only contact with him was on the cover of whatever tabloid he’d landed on each day. He certainly wasn’t sitting at home and forcing himself to eat and get dressed every morning. He hadn’t forgotten how to breathe without me. In fact, the only indication I had that he regretted what had happened in Norfolk was this brass key.

Belle poked her head into my room and found me curled up in bed. “You can’t go.”

“I just wish I knew what it meant,” I admitted, my fingers closing over the notched blade as I wondered once again what it opened.

Belle was right though. The only thing I knew for certain about this key was where it came from. It had arrived mid-week in a cream envelope sealed with a red wax stamp that set my heart racing. But there had been no explanation included. No apology. No plea for another chance. The envelope had simply contained this key and a notecard with an address and tomorrow’s date scrawled across it.

I didn’t have to look up the address, because I recognized the name of the quiet street in Notting Hill. What I didn’t know was what waited for me if I went there.

There was no doubt that Belle wanted me to stay away because she was angry with Alexander. But the real reason I couldn’t bring myself to go was because as long as I stayed away, the key could open anything. It was pathetic, and I knew it. Still, that small sliver of hope was my lifeline.

“What would you do if you saw him?” she asked, coming to sit next to me.

I shrugged, blowing a thin stream of air through my lips in an effort to steady myself. I’d not yet reached the point where I didn’t want to cry at the mention of him. “Maybe I’d ask him why,” I said in a small voice. “Why he kept seeing me? Why he doesn’t love me?”

Belle draped her arm over my shoulder and hugged me close. “Do you think he’d actually tell you?”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “I feel so stupid for thinking it meant more to him, too.”

“Uh-uh,” Belle clucked. “Falling in love isn’t stupid.”

“It is when you always choose the wrong man,” I said.

“You’re human, Clara, and you’ve made mistakes in the past. But I saw how cautious you were after you left Daniel. If you chose Alexander, there was a reason for it,” she said softly. “Maybe you can’t see that right now, but you will someday. And even if he’s too dense to realize what he had, remember that he helped show you that you are strong. Stronger than you thought.”

“I wish that lesson hadn’t been quite so painful,” I croaked as the tears I’d been fighting broke through.

Belle kissed my cheek. “You’re strong enough to survive this.”

I hoped that she was right. It felt as though I’d walked through fire that stripped my skin and left me exposed.

Raw.

Vulnerable.

Walking, eating, existing—every moment was agonizing. I didn’t feel strong. All I felt was this perpetual cycle of despair. Each morning I remembered that it was over, and my heart shattered again. I spent the day gathering the fragments and trying to piece myself back together. Maybe Belle was right, and I would survive this. Maybe the piercing anguish would fade into the dull ache of regret. But I knew one thing: there was no getting over Alexander.

“I didn’t even see it happening until it was too late. I mean…I guess you never know when you’re making love to someone for the last time.” I couldn’t quite shake the regret I felt over how we’d spent our final moments together.

“It’s cruel,” she agreed.

Opening my fist, I held out the key. “What do I do with this?”

“You know how I feel about it,” she said, “but how do you feel?”

“It’s like I’m clinging to it. As long as I don’t go, it can mean whatever I want it to.”

“That’s no good, darling.”

“I know,” I whispered, “which is why I need to go.”

How could I explain to Belle that I still felt Alexander’s hold on me like the tug of an invisible string? I was bound to him, even as each passing second frayed the edge of that connection. Now all I wanted was to sever it and break free of him. He’d made it clear that he didn’t return my feelings, but it was too late to stop myself from loving him. Holding on to hope was paralyzing me, and with each passing day, I felt the paralysis spreading like poison. It was killing me.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she offered.

I wasn’t surprised that she wanted to tag along, but having a sidekick wasn’t going to make this any easier. “No, I need to face this alone.”

I had the rest of my life to endure alone. I might as well start facing it now.

I was in a cab the next morning before Belle was out of bed. She hadn’t fought me on going, but she was worried and her concern only made me more nervous.

I’d opted for a pair of well-loved jeans and a white tank top. I had no clue what waited for me in Notting Hill, but I sure as hell wasn’t out to impress anyone today. The plan was pretty simple.

Get in. Get out. Get over it.

My breath hitched when the taxi slowed to a stop in front of a gated row home.

“This it, miss?” the cabbie asked.

I couldn’t get a word past the lump in my throat, so I nodded and shoved cash in his hand.

I clutched the key so tightly that it cut into my skin as I approached the house. Behind the gate, there was a garden in full bloom and a stone path that led to red steps and the door beyond. Judging from the water pooling at the edge of the walkway, someone had tended the plants recently. It was likely he or she was still here. My heart jumped in my chest, and I took a deep breath.
See if the key works before you get excited
, my rational side advised.

I dropped it twice, trying to insert it into the lock with trembling fingers. The key turned and the gate swung open, welcoming me inside the private sanctuary. Pausing amongst the flowers, I couldn’t help wishing I were here under different circumstances. This place was a dream as cozy and inviting as the neighborhood to which it belonged. But right now I was too tense to enjoy it. I’d brought Alexander to Notting Hill, and the memories weighed on me, turning my favorite place into somewhere I wanted to avoid.

I’d come back though. If for no other reason than to push this all into the past. I climbed the steps, resolved to get this over with, but as I reached for the bell, I spotted a red rose tucked into the door handle. I took it gingerly, pricking myself on the thorny stem despite my care. Tears welled in my eyes and blood welled on my fingertip. There was no reason to believe it was for me, but I knew it was. Just as I knew that key was going to unlock the gate. It was the same vibrant scarlet as the one I’d worn in my hair the night of the ball. The night where everything had changed between us.

The door opened, startling me out of the web of memories I’d become trapped in. The sight of him knocked the air from my lungs, and I gasped, tying to remember how to breathe. I’d spent the last two weeks dreaming of his face, but seeing him before me, I realized those fantasies hadn’t even touched on his beauty. The shock of black hair. The perfect lines of his face. The delicious curve of his jaw, the full bow of his lips, and the sapphire eyes that drew me to him, burning me with their intensity as I drowned in them.

Alexander’s shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his chest and six pack. His jeans hung low on his hips. My body betrayed me, responding instinctively to the magnetic energy sizzling between us.

This was a mistake.

Whatever reason he had for asking me to come here, it had been a mistake to come. The tears fell freely down my cheeks, and I didn’t try to stop them. The pressure in my chest built until I heaved with unrestrained yearning.

Alexander reached for my hand, spotting the small wound on my finger. He brought it to his lips and sucked away the blood before placing a gentle kiss on the spot. The gesture was small but not insignificant. When his arm coiled around my waist, I didn’t resist him.

I couldn’t.

So much for being strong
, the critical voice in my head sneered.

But his mouth silenced my fears as it pressed against mine. The kiss was tender and hesitant, and his lips moved slowly. Salt mingled with his taste on my tongue, and I pulled away to discover the tears weren’t mine. Alexander dropped to his knees, burying his face against my stomach.

My eyes closed, relishing the peaceful sensation that washed over me. I was desperate for his touch, even though it couldn’t ward off the inevitable.

“You’re thinner.” His tone was measured, but I heard the edge of accusation in it along with something else that sounded a lot like fear.

I had wondered if he would catch the slightly sharper angle of my cheekbones or the tautness of my belly. The color had drained from my world when I left him, and along with it, life’s flavors. I’d been relying on alarms more than I had for a long time, but I was taking care of myself.

“I’m okay,” I said in a soft voice. “I haven’t had much of an appetite, but I am eating.”

“You can’t…” he choked on the words. “Not because of me. Promise me, Clara.”

His alarm caught me off guard, and I struggled not to read more into his concern. “I promise.”

After a few minutes of silence, I couldn’t wait any longer to understand why he’d asked me to come here. “Where are we?”

Alexander rose to his feet and wove his fingers through mine, leading me though the hallway into a living room. Now that the shock had worn off, I digested my surroundings. The home was fully furnished and artfully decorated with a mixture of antiques and clean, modern touches. A fireplace with an exquisitely carved mantle was the focal point of the living area. A plush, linen-upholstered sofa sat across from it, and the rest of the room combined vintage and contemporary into a warm, welcoming space.

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” he said. My core clenched as I drank in the familiar rasp of his voice. Alexander’s eyes hooded as though sensing my sudden, urgent arousal, but he didn’t make a move.

“Twenty questions again, X?”

He shook his head, his tongue wetting his lips as he did. “No games, poppet.”

I stared around us, trying to comprehend why we were here while fighting the dizzying effect of his presence. I’d been too long without him. Now his nearness was almost overwhelming.

“Why are we here?”

“You’re getting warmer.” He moved close enough to me that I felt his hot, sweet breath on my face.

“Whose house is this?” I asked so quietly that he shouldn’t have been able to hear me.

His mouth dropped to my ear and whispered, “Ours.”

I pushed him away and stared at him, trying to make sense of what he was saying. Had he lost his mind? “I don’t understand.”

“This is our normal,” he explained, spreading his hands. “This is our sanctuary.”

There were so many questions crowding into my brain that I had a hard time choosing one, but there was one that I couldn’t even guess the answer to. “How?”

“The house is in Norris’s name,” Alexander told me. “I pay for it, of course, but this way we maintain our privacy.”

I walked around the room in a slow circle. Alexander’s eyes followed me, but he hung back as I absorbed what he was telling me.

“You mean to maintain secrecy,” I said, turning back to him.

“Privacy. Secrecy,” he repeated the words with a shrug as though they were the same thing.

The problem was that they weren’t.

“Here we can be Alexander and Clara. Nothing between us,” he continued.

“Except the secrets.”

Alexander crossed to me so swiftly that I barely processed his reaction before his arms were around me. “Not between us. Nothing between us.”

“Oh X,” I sighed. “Everything is between us. Can’t you feel it?”

“I don’t want it to be.” His eyes pleaded with me, and I saw the agony I felt reflected in them.

“Your father expects you to get married. He has it all planned.”
And those plans don’t include me.