Run Rosie Run (34 page)

With a single jerk of her head she gave her assent.

‘Why, in the name of God, did you tell everyone you love me except me?’

Silence.

He couldn’t stop staring.

She was small, less curvy and she’d cut the river of black curls into a short pixie cut. The look suited her even if it did make her look terribly young and vulnerable.

The trouble was he couldn’t read the expression in those dark eyes. Whatever was bothering her it went bone deep.

And he could see something that looked like regret in those huge eyes and it terrified him.

She wore soft clothes, yoga pants and a top in matching grey that clung to interesting places. Those gorgeous little feet were bare since her little silver ballet pumps were lying next to the couch.

Her top exposed her clavicle bone.

She was too thin now and that annoyed him, a lot.

But her beauty still took his breath.

Along with weight loss she looked too pale, too fragile.

And the fact she still hadn’t responded to his question made his gut, his heart, twist.

‘Are you ill?’

‘No,’ she responded in a whisper.

She raised a hand to her head, changed her mind and then sat on both, tucking them under her knees. Not once did she look at him. She stared at the floor, the ceiling, as if she’d rather be anywhere than here, with him.

Then she glanced up and he caught the look, alarmed, scared and stricken all at once.

He assessed the facts. He loved her. He wanted her. She didn’t want him? But he knew she loved him. Didn’t she?

Checkmate.

Like hell.

But then her eyes filled.

He pointed a shaky finger.

‘Don’t you dare cry.’

Her body went stiff.

Each breath trembled through aching lungs.

When she could speak, she did with care,

‘I wasn’t ready to tell you that I...’

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, clasped his hands and his eyes never left hers for a single moment.

‘Love you,’ he said helpfully. ‘Since you haven’t said the words, can I take it you’re still not ready to tell me?’

She shook her head.

‘Okay. Still planning to leave?’

‘Yes,’ her voice was no more than a whisper.

‘Okay. I’m coming with you.’

Sincerely shocked, she could only stare at him.

Those green eyes never left hers as he continued,

‘I know you need to see more of the world and do more with your career. If you want to do that I’ll back you, support you. Give me a chance to make you happy.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I’m saying if you want to go to New York, take me with you. I won’t let you go alone.’

When she could speak she did with care,

‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying I love you. I even love our fights. I want you to have my babies. Marry me, Rosie.’

His eyes clung to hers and she read the honest truth, the utter sincerity in those eyes and it shook her to the core.

‘You would leave here? Leave Bronte, Nico and those children to go with me to Cyprus and New York? Are you crazy? Give up your birthright, your home, your family, just like that? No! I can’t let you do it.’

Rosie blinked frantically.

This was not going well.

How stupid was she that she hadn’t bargained on how her legs would collapse as soon as she saw him. Stupid.

He’d be disgusted at being called beautiful. But, dear God, he was so terribly beautiful.

‘I want to talk about compromise,’ he said now in a tone that suggested anything but. ‘You want to travel? We’ll travel. It’s healthy to re-evaluate our career path every now and again.’

‘I won’t marry you,’ she said determinedly. Just in case the whole thing goes so terribly wrong.

‘You will,’ he said silkily and the look in his eye told her he saw right through her. ‘We can base ourselves at The Hall, at our barn,’ he said now and she felt a flicker of interest. ‘We’re in talks with the Ortiz hotel group. The Del Gardas. With the recession it makes sense for us to buy their stock and vice versa. Spread best practice amongst our businesses. Jacob Del Garda will run Ludlow Hall for three months and I’ll base myself, us, at their flagship hotel in the Bahamas. It’s where they train their top people. Should be interesting.’

He’d thought it all through Rosie realised.

‘You’re going to need to give me time to think about it.’

He stared at her for a long, breathless moment.

Then he smiled and it wasn’t nice.

‘Of course,’ he said finally. ‘You have ten minutes.’

Her chin rose.

‘Then the answer is no.’

He wasn’t the only one who could be stubborn.

The chill in those green eyes was exactly what she didn’t want from him. He hated to be thwarted. Too bad.

‘Okay. No wedding. So we’ll live together instead. Think of it as a trial marriage. After six months, you marry me.’

He’d never last six weeks never mind months.

Alexander did his level best to behave as if the world beneath his feet hadn’t disappeared.

It was killing him to keep his hands to himself.

Who’d have thought that a tiny woman he’d known forever contained an iron will that matched his own.

She looked so nervous of him it broke his heart.

‘I don’t believe this will work,’ she said.

He sent her a long, steady look.

‘That’s okay because I know it will work.’

Now those dark eyes flashed into his.

‘Haven’t you checked the national statistics on marriage? They make sobering reading.’

‘Yes, dear,’ he said and smiled at the way her eyes narrowed. ‘One of my late father’s favourite phrases. It’s a good one.’

She’d relaxed, thank God.

The tremors were no more but her eyes remained too guarded and he began to feel horribly desperate.

He didn’t do desperate.

When he asked a woman to marry him, a man had a right to expect a little joy in her eyes.

Now disappointment kept desperate company.

God he was a wreck and so was she.

How did other couples
do
this?

Rosie shook her head, saw those amazing eyes go dark with hurt and something else, an absolute determination.

The man never, ever gave up and the way he was willing to fight for her, for them, made her realise just how stupid she’d been.

But she hadn’t been honest with him, had she?

The words were sobs dragged out of her lungs,

‘I’m not who you think I am.’

He blinked once, twice.

Then he scratched his head, scrubbed the palms of his hands over his cheeks, shook his head as his eyes met hers.

‘I’ve never, ever, met anyone like you. Do you think, just once, you could behave like a normal person?’

She hugged herself, rocked back and forth on the chair as her eyes pleaded with his.

‘I mean it. I’m not a good person.’

Alexander slumped back on the couch, just stared at her and was that humour in his eyes?

‘Okay. This should be good.’

He wasn’t taking her seriously?

The idea made her frown.

She stood.

‘I’ll prove it. Sit there and don’t move.’

Grabbing her car keys, Rosie opened the door and went out to her car.

He was so screwed.

Alexander felt as if his heart had been put through a fucking meat grinder.

She wasn’t a good person?

What was all that about?

He shook his head and wondered what was coming.

When he thought of the hours, the days, without her his gut ached with the pain of it.

And when he’d had the pow wow with Bronte, Josh and Janine, he realised Rosie had been the one who’d borne the brunt of vicious slurs and gossip from the usual suspects in town.

Why hadn’t he realised she’d be a sitting fucking target?

Well, Jonathan Winthrop would think twice before giving anyone close to him a hard time.

Not that he’d hit him, as much as his fist itched to rearrange that pretty face. All it had taken was a visit from him and Nico and the bastard had folded like the pathetic coward he was.

And another thing had struck him too.

Every fucker seemed to think he’d moved Janine and her baby into his house and that was a load of bull. He’d persuaded a very reluctant Janine to stay in his apartment at Ludlow Hall. Now Janine blamed herself if Rosie had listened to gossip, heard the rumours and got the wrong end of the stick. But that was ridiculous, no way would Rosie believe he’d have Janine move into his home, especially after he’d just asked Rosie to move in with him.

But by the guilty look on her beautiful face, the love of his life had believed it.

Didn’t she know him at all?

But then he hadn’t been honest with her had he?

He could kick himself for being so bloody stupid.

Why hadn’t he told her he loved her?

Why hadn’t he asked Rosie to marry him, to make a home with him and saved them both from suffering the worst week of their lives?

But then she appeared in the doorway holding a large box of carved wood.

She looked fucking gorgeous just standing there and staring at him.

His eyes stung because with the cropped hair she appeared so incredibly vulnerable and young, her neck looked too delicate. The stubborn jaw was clenched. Those tiny ears hugged her head. Her eyes seemed too large now for a face that had lost so much weight it only highlighted razor sharp cheekbones.

His love for her rose through pain, worry, destroying the urge to put her over his knee because she could even think he’d move Janine and her baby into his home.

As if he could ever, ever, lift a hand to her.

Christ, he adored her.

‘I took this with me,’ she told him.

She placed the box on the glass coffee table and he caught a glimpse of her breasts.

The amount of weight she’d lost twisted his gut.

‘What is it?’

She moved to her bag, rummaged around, brought out a chunky key and handed it to him.

Sinking to the edge of the chair opposite, she took a deep breath and her eyes met his.

What he saw there, guilt, fear and something like mortification totally confused him.

‘Open it,’ she said.

Her hands were shaking in a way that made him frown and wonder what on earth was in the box.

He unlocked it, lifted the lid.

The way his smile lit up his face made Rosie bite down hard on her bottom lip.

Delighted he held his lucky cricket ball and gave her big eyes.

‘Wow, where did you find this?’

He placed in on the table and took out the box with his silver cuff links, opened it and gave a thrilled hoot that made her sick with guilt.

‘I’ve wondered where these went.’

Then he frowned as he found his silk tie.

He didn’t look at her as he read all the newspaper clippings about his successes over the years.

The way he blinked frantically as he read a couple of magazine articles, interviews with his parents, about Ludlow Hall and its legacy, made her own eyes fill.

Then his hand shook as he read every one of the sixteen Valentine cards she’d written.

Rosie felt the room swim.

She held her head in her hands.

‘I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have taken the things that mattered most to you, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. I’m a thief and a stalker. And I’ve been terribly jealous of how you held Janine and Boo. You looked so good together.’

Then she was in his arms.

And the way he held her, too tightly, as if he’d never let her go eased her bruised heart.

The scent of his soap, the heat of his skin and the thunder of his heart and the way he shook told her more than words how much this man loved her.

‘What on earth are you talking about? Thief? Stalker? I don’t have feelings for Janine other than as an old friend.’

Strong hands held her face and forced her to look into those incredible eyes.

And what she saw there, for her, stopped her heart.

‘You took that box away with you?’

‘Yes’

He smiled as his thumb wiped away a single tear that had escaped down her cheek.

‘Then you took me with you too. I’m tucked nice and tight right inside your heart, angel face. That’s where I belong and that’s where I’m going to stay.’

She blinked unable to believe he wasn’t even annoyed with her.

‘Why aren’t you furious with me?’ she whispered.

‘You kept everything that’s mattered most to me safe. Do you have any idea how much it hurt when my parents left Bronte a letter and me nothing?’

He kissed her, a feather light touch of lips to lips, then cupped her face in his hands and tipped it up so he could look right into her eyes.

‘I’d no idea they’d been interviewed about me. Do you know what you’ve done?’

Bewildered, she simply shook her head.

‘You’ve given my family back to me. And those valentine cards are so beautifully written from the heart.’ Those eyes lasered into hers. ‘Has it been very bad, loving me?’

She closed her eyes, remembering the heartache, the waiting, the wishing and the ‘what ifs.’

‘It’s been hell,’ she admitted.

He kissed her and in a move that never failed to delight, he lifted her in his arm.

‘Then I need to make it up to you.’

Alexander laid the love of his life on her bed.

With careful hands he stripped her until she lay there naked.

And as he stripped himself he saw her eyes narrow on his torso.

‘I want to put my hands on you,’ she whispered and he didn’t miss the ache of arousal in her sultry voice.

Blood started to pound in his head, his cock.

‘I’m not going to put up much of a fight,’ he warned her.

Her gaze dropped.

‘It looks as if your Love Muscle is willing.’

He climbed into bed, rolled onto his side and pulled her into his body to face her.