Heartless Rebel (23 page)

 
          
He
knew what she was trying to say. And he was caught between sympathy for her and
the pain of old wounds.

 
          
“You
think I should have let Jacob speak,” he said. Anger roiled beneath the
surface, but it was the old anger, not anything new. He wasn’t angry with her,
didn’t feel the need to lash out and defend his actions.

 
          
“I
can’t tell you what to do, Jack. But maybe if you talked to him, you’d know
whether it was right to go on being angry or whether it was time to let it go.
Maybe you could move forward.”

 
          
“It
was a long time ago. What makes you think I haven’t moved on?” Jack demanded.
“I don’t spend my days thinking about this.”

 
          
“No,
I know you don’t. But just like what happened with my family still bothers me,
I think you’re still stuck with what happened to yours. If you weren’t, you
wouldn’t have gotten so angry.”

 
          
Jack
blew out a harsh breath. He’d gone entire months—years even—without thinking
much about the past. Until Jacob returned. Now, he had to think about it—and he
didn’t like it one bit.

 
          
“I’m
not sure I can do it, Cara. Jacob was all we had. He was our father figure,
much more so than William ever was. And when he was gone, it left a gaping hole
in our lives. Lucas tried to fill it, but he failed, as well. I
couldn’t
fail. I had no choice.”

 
          
“It
wasn’t fair that you had to step into Jacob’s and Lucas’s shoes,” she said. “It
must have been hard for you. But you did it. You succeeded where your brothers
didn’t. But what if Jacob needs you now the way you once needed him?”

 
          
He
hadn’t thought of that. But then he also didn’t care. Let Jacob need him—need
all of them—if that’s what it was. Let him fool the rest of them with his
remorse and his return to Wolfe Manor. He couldn’t fool Jack.

 
          
“Sometimes
the past belongs in the past,” he said roughly. “Sometimes it’s better that
way.”

 
          
She
lay down again with a sigh and put her head on his shoulder. She smelled warm
and sweet and sensual. Like flowers and sex.

 
          
“You’re
probably right,” she said. “I just wanted to say it.”

 
          
He
ran his fingers up her arm. Her skin was so soft, like silk. He liked being
here with her like this. The night was dark, conducive to secrets, and he found
himself wanting to explain why he felt the way he did.

 
          
“I
was seventeen when I had to be the head of the household. I had to figure out
how to make sure we were okay, how to balance the books and keep everything
running smoothly. I also had to deal with the emotional fallout of the younger
ones.”

 
          
“It’s
a lot of responsibility,” she murmured.

 
          
“I
didn’t get to do what I wanted, Cara. Everything I did was for them. When I
left school, I took a job in London and commuted from our home in Oxfordshire.
I never even went to university. I worked. I didn’t play, I didn’t party, and I
didn’t do anything typical for my age.”

 
          
Her
hand curled into a fist on his chest. “You think he robbed you of that.”

 
          
“Yes.”
And yet it was more than that. He’d admired Jacob, had wanted to be like
him—but when he’d realized that Jacob wasn’t as strong as he’d always believed,
a part of Jack had feared that he would fail, as well. If Jacob couldn’t do it,
how could he?

 
          
But
he had. He’d succeeded where Jacob and

 
          
Lucas
had failed. The cost had been enormous, however. In some ways, he was still
paying it.

 
          
“Maybe
you need to tell him how you feel,” Cara said. “Tell him why you’re so angry.”

 
          
As
if that would do any good. If Jacob had cared—if Lucas had cared—they wouldn’t
have stuck Jack with the responsibility in the first place. They knew why he
was angry. They knew why he couldn’t forgive and forget.

 
          
“Did
you ever do that?” he asked. “Did you ever tell your father how you feel about
what he did?”

 
          
He
could feel her head moving as she shook it. “No. But I’ve never had the chance.
You do, Jack.”

 
          
He
sighed. “It won’t change what happened. Will you get those years back that you
worked so hard to help your mother rebuild her house? Will you get back the
dreams you gave up when your father abandoned your family?”

 
          
“No,”
she said softly. And then he felt something hot and wet hit his skin.

 
          
He
reached for her, pulled her into the cradle of his arms. “I’m sorry, Cara. I’m
sorry,” he murmured, kissing away her tears.

 
          
And
then he made her forget everything but him.

 
          
FOR
the next two weeks Cara shoved aside her doubts and fears about the future. She
decided to live each day to the fullest. She didn’t ask about her passport and
Jack didn’t offer. She’d managed to get her bank card canceled and a new one
issued and mailed to her at the London address, so she would soon have access
to her own money. That was a relief, at least.

 
          
Since
that night when they’d spoken of their families and their pain, they’d not
talked about it again. But in every other way, they’d grown closer. Jack took
her to the opera, the theater, to dinner and for long drives in the country. He
cooked her breakfast, surprised her with flowers and made love to her so
thoroughly that she marveled she’d ever lived without him.

 
          
He
knew what turned her on, knew how to drive her insane and knew what made her
scream with pleasure. This need she had for him was an obsession. All he had to
do was look at her—and she slipped her clothes from her body and shamelessly
seduced him. They made love in the bathtub, against the wall, on the floor, in
the car, on his desk and, on one memorable occasion, on the balcony in the
middle of the night with all of London spread out below.

 
          
She
was utterly shameless when it came to loving Jack. Because, yes, she’d finally
had to admit to herself that she’d taken the plunge—that she’d fallen head over
heels for Jack Wolfe. She should have left that first day, but she’d stayed.
And now it was too late, because her heart was irrevocably lost.

 
          
She
hadn’t told him how she felt because she had the feeling they were living in a
magic bubble—and if she spoke the words, the bubble would burst and reality
would crash down on her once more.

 
          
He
made love to her like he couldn’t live without her, and yet he’d never spoken a
word of tender feelings for her. He’d praised her body, praised her skill in
bed and in the kitchen when she’d made him a pot of Mama’s gumbo, told her she
was beautiful and sexy and exciting—but he’d never said a thing that made her
think his heart was engaged.

 
          
For
Jack, it was all about the physical. Sometimes they spent the entire day in
bed, reading, talking and laughing between bouts of lovemaking. On days like
that, they never dressed. They slept and ate and lost themselves in each other.

 
          
It
was glorious and blissful, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted
more
. She wanted to know she wasn’t
alone in this emotional need for him. She wanted his heart. If she knew she had
his heart, then everything would be okay.

 
          
Keep telling yourself that, Cara
.

 
          
“We’ve
been invited to a cocktail party.”

 
          
Cara
turned at the sound of his voice. Her heart squeezed, like it always did,
whenever he entered a room. Or, in this case, the balcony. The bruising under
his eye was almost completely gone now. He was without doubt the most
incredibly handsome male she’d ever seen—with or without a black eye.

 
          
“That
sounds nice,” she replied, smiling as best she could with her thoughts in
turmoil. She searched his face for some hint of feeling, but he was carefully
controlled as always.

 
          
Would
she never break through his barriers? Was it a waste of time to try?

 
          
“Rupert
is an old business partner of mine,” he said, picking up her glass and taking a
drink of iced water. “We don’t need to stay long.”

 
          
“Fine,”
she replied. She’d lost the ability to form sentences as she wrestled with her
thoughts.

 
          
He
set the glass down. “Is something wrong, Cara?”

 
          
She
shrugged, smiled. “Of course not.”

 
          
He
frowned. “We don’t have to go at all, if you don’t want.”

 
          
She
sighed, wrapped her arms around herself in a protective gesture. “I don’t mind
going, Jack.”

 
          
He
looked at her a moment more, then came over and kissed her. “Good. I’ll let him
know we’re coming. I have a few more things to take care of and then I’m yours
for the rest of the evening.”

 
          
If
only he really was hers, she thought, when he went back inside. But he wasn’t.
And she didn’t really think he ever would be.

 
          
The
people in Rupert Blasdell’s town house glittered. They literally glittered.
Cara had never seen so many jewels in her life—and she’d seen some pretty
gorgeous ones on women in the casino. Her own neck was bare. In her ears, she
wore the same small silver hoops she’d been wearing when she’d first met Jack.
She’d splurged on a silver bangle watch a few weeks back and she’d put that on,
as well. It hadn’t been expensive, and she felt the lack of its pedigree keenly
tonight.

 
          
Which
wasn’t like her at all, really. She’d never cared about designer names before.

 
          
Still,
she’d thought she looked pretty good in her pale pink silk sheath, sky-high
designer shoes and silver jewelry. Until she’d arrived on the steps of this
Mayfair home and seen the jewels pouring from the limos, Bentleys and Rolls
Royces.

 
          
Jack
seemed oblivious. She’d gone inside on his arm, holding her head high, but
they’d ended up separated after he’d gotten her another glass of champagne. Now
she stood in the middle of a packed room and sipped her champagne more out of
nervousness than because she was thirsty.

 
          
He’d
said it was a cocktail party, not a gala event for the richest people in all of
London. She wouldn’t be surprised if the queen showed up next. Yes, she and
Jack had attended a few events together over the past week, but nothing had
been this, well,
fancy
. Even the
opera, to which he’d worn a tuxedo and she’d donned a long gown, had seemed
like a down-home crawfish boil compared to this.

 
          
The
crowd parted and she caught sight of Jack talking to a man and a woman. She
thought they were a couple until the woman put her hand on Jack’s arm. Her fingers
caressed him possessively, sliding down his forearm. He pressed the back of her
hand to his mouth as she leaned in and said something Cara imagined only he
could hear. The man didn’t bat an eyelash at her behavior, so clearly they
weren’t together.

 
          
Cara
squashed the jealousy that flared to life inside her. Jack was with
her
. Not only that, but there were
physical limits to what a man could do.

 
          
Even
a man as sensual as Jack. And she was confident she kept him far too busy in
bed for him to consider straying elsewhere. For now.