Trust: Betrayed (18 page)

She felt he was reaching as deeply as he could go. Still, she wanted more. “Please, I need-”

“Not yet.” He slowly withdrew and then pushed forward in a maddeningly slow pace.

Their moans filled the room, but he wanted more. He forced her shoulders down on the mattress and fisted her hair, pinning her under him. He kissed her nape, as a hand plumped a breast and squeezed a nipple firmly between his fingers.

He had to forget the memories and prove to himself that he could be another man. He had to show her he could be the man that she wanted.

Sophia let out a groan of pleasure. He raised a knee beside her hip, going even deeper. He increased his pace, mindlessly thrusting, filling her with all his might, fingers rubbing and pressing her in time with his shoving hips.

“Who do you need?” he asked in a whisper as he kindled her lust, promising a spiraling drop over the edge.

“You. Only you,” she sang, and he swept a finger lightly over her.

“Say my name,” he growled, as he shoved harder and faster into her.

“Alistair Connor!”

Her every sense flooded with pleasure as his deft fingers and body played her like a fine instrument. She cried out incoherently in Portuguese and came tightly around him.

He threw his head back, with a loud grunt, as wave after wave of pleasure hit him and spasmed violently, collapsing onto his side hugging her close with one arm, shuddering with release as his delight exploded into a thousand iridescent stars and he whispered her name as he poured all his passion in her.

As always Alistair recovered first.

Sophia was lying on her side, barely breathing. “Sophia,
mo gràdh
, are you okay?” He brushed her hair away, spreading kisses over her face.

She flicked a dismissive hand at him, eyes still closed, curling into a ball.

She was spent and sated, but unsettled. Sophia’s mind was fuzzy, her hearing distorted. She didn’t think she had ever been so confused. She was stunned by his story and her feelings shocked her.

A stifled hiccup shook her body.

Alistair Connor, you’re an asshole. You hurt her.
He scooped her in his arms and the tender gesture made her lose it. Tears started to fall and sobs racked her as she cried wholeheartedly in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” they said in unison.

He halted, surprised.
Why is she sorry?

Between sobs, her voice muffled by his neck, she said in a sorrowful voice, “How I wish I could spare you this pain. I’m so sorry, so very sorry.” She kissed the hollow of his neck and tentatively her arms went around him and she splayed her hands over his shoulder and lower back, soothing and protecting him. “You have to let this guilt go. You have to bury this anger you have against Heather and yourself. Swear to me.”

He was awestruck. Her silent acceptance of the darkness he carried within told him that, after all those years in the most barren wasteland, he was finally home.

“I will,” he whispered in her hair, solemnly, “I swear to you.”

Alistair pulled the covers over them as she calmed down and the sobs subsided.
I have to recover from the horror of what happened, it shouldn’t consume me so badly anymore.
Tenderness filled his heart at her acceptance of him as he was.
She is so giving, so beautiful. Inside and out.

He realized in that moment that he was profoundly in love with her. The sort of love that makes a man marry a woman.

He brushed her hair away from her face and she softly smiled at him, her eyes still closed.

She was the kind of woman that made men turn their heads and lust for her. But he knew she was more than that for him. She was goodness; fierce to her principles; a strong woman. She was the air he breathed.

I love you.
“
Tha gràdh agam dhut
,” he whispered in her ear, completely relaxed and satisfied.
Would you marry me, Sophia? Oh, fuck! I haven’t told her everything yet.
“
Mo chridhe
?”

“Hmm?” She opened her yellow diamond eyes to stare at him and demanded, “Kiss me.”

He did, surrounding her with all the love he had to give.

“Alistair...” her fingers brushed his long bangs off his forehead. “Why are you so afraid of people really seeing you for who you are? A good man, a person capable of love? Are you afraid of another betrayal? She was sick. Not everyone is like her. People won’t betray you like she did.”

“Sophia, you have no idea what betrayal can do to a man. It hurts deep, very deep. I thought I had given her all I could. My name, status, love, sex, money, but nothing was enough. It broke me apart. I first felt diminished, less than a man. Then I became enraged. I wanted to kill her. I couldn’t, of course. Besides, she was Nathalie’s mother. So I punished her instead. The more I did, the more I was poisoned by the whole situation. I didn’t know how to deal with it and I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Tavish Uilleam was away. I wasn’t on good terms with him or with my father. They’d never liked Heather. And I was too ashamed to tell my friends about it. What would they think?”

“You never thought about seeing a therapist?” It was more a statement than a question. From her experience as a lawyer in Brazil and at her foundation, she knew that, in cases like Alistair’s, therapy was the best option. Some men needed psychiatric supervision, but she would bet that in his case therapy would do the trick.

He shook his head, “I didn’t have the courage.”

“You need to work out these feelings. Maybe now you could talk to Tavish Uilleam or Leonard.”

He gave a brisk, bitter laugh, “Do you know their nickname for me? The mighty Alistair Connor. I can’t tell them that the wife of the mighty Alistair Connor was cheating on him. They would lose all respect they still have for me.”

“Lose respect? Why? It wasn’t your fault,” she was astonished by his line of thought.

“It must have been...” he whispered, painfully. “I must have done something very wrong.”

“The only thing you did wrong was to enter into a relationship with her,” she affirmed. “That’s why you only had one-night stands, isn’t it? You were afraid to let anyone in.” He nodded. “Why is it so hard for you to see yourself as I see you? You hide everything that is good and worthy about you, because you are afraid. She was a monster. She was sick. She gave you nothing and took everything. You’re magnificent.”

A small hopeful light appeared in the forest green eyes. “Magnificent?”

Caught by the vulnerability he showed no one else, she’d whispered her answer in a kiss. “Utterly.” Sophia’s heart was bleeding for the younger Alistair and the present one. She touched his chest, “Inside here, Alistair Connor. She couldn’t see it, but you are.”

He sighed and after a few minutes in silence, he said, “Maybe,
mo gràdh
.”

“Mmm. I have absolutely no idea what you are calling me in this delicious language of yours.” She grinned. “I’m going to speak with you only in Portuguese from now on.”

He smiled back. “Leonard can always translate for me.”

“I doubt he would get everything. I could ask the same from Alice, but I want you to tell me.” Her nails caressed the wide expanse of his chest. “To start with, what does
tha grudh gan thut
means?”

He laughed at her pronunciation, “I have no idea, but
tha gradh agam dhut
means I love you.”

Sophia was silent for a long time. Then she raised her head to study his face with hooded eyes, an inscrutable emotion shimmering on her face.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side, studying her features.

What? You can’t even start to imagine...
She asked then, her heart beating so fiercely that she was sure he could hear it, gaining a few seconds more to be sure of her next words, “And
mo gràdh
?”

“My love,” he explained, combing her hair with his fingers.

I lo- Don’t, Sophia. Too soon. You have to work out all your issues and problems before you declare yourself. If you can...
Sophia shook her head at herself inwards. It was not time to think about those horrible things. “I won’t let you be hurt again, Alistair Connor. I promise you.”

“I love you, Sophia.”

Just as Alistair’s eyes closed in sleep, he remembered he hadn’t told her everything.
Tomorrow. I will tell her tomorrow...

Galewick Townhouse.

Friday, January 30
^th
, 2009.

7.52 p.m.

“MacCraig.” Alistair answered his cell phone and felt cold sift through his bones as the bad premonition he had been feeling since he discovered Nathalie was not in Alice’s house confirmed itself. He froze in front of the hearth. He didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke, “I’ll be there.”

He turned off the phone and without a word walked to the front door of Leonard and Alice’s house as if he was being chased by the devil.

Leonard’s hand yanked him back, “Alistair. What happened?” From Alistair’s ashen face, Leonard instantly knew it was something grave.

“Police. Nathalie. Car accident,” he rasped. “They are taking her to St. Mary’s hospital.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Alistair was grateful for Leonard’s help because there was a thick fog in his head.

He entered the car and, resting his head on the headrest, he closed his eyes and prayed.

Prayed for his daughter’s life.

Paddington. St. Mary’s Hospital.

8.16 p.m.

Alistair flung the car door open before Leonard could stop it fully and ran inside the hospital.

His heart speeded up in his chest as he saw a gurney surrounded by doctors, being pushed quickly down a corridor.

The blonde hair of the child was matted with blood, but he would recognize his daughter anyway, anywhere.

Thanks Christ! My dear angel.
“Nathalie,” he shouted and ran after the gurney that was being rushed into a room.

Alistair stopped outside the room and looked through the glass window. He fell as Leonard stopped by his side, but his gaze was fixed on his daughter’s battered face as doctors and nurses pushed tubes and wires in her small body.

Christ!
He tried to breathe but there was no air in his lungs. He swayed on his feet and Leonard grabbed him by the upper arms.
My little Nathalie.

He blinked twice but his lovely daughter was still lying in that hospital bed, white as a ghost and broken as a ragged doll. Her small body was strangely bent in the middle and her legs were broken. The sheet that had covered her was stained red and had been flung in a corner.
So much blood!

“Nathalie!” he roared and banged his fists on the window.

“Stop, Alistair!” Leonard grabbed his arm.

Nathalie tilted her face to look at him. Her blue eyes were wide opened and scared.

He saw when her lips moved and said, “Daddy-”

He saw as she coughed and a trickle of blood marred her white lips.

He saw her struggling to breathe and her eyes filling with a far away look.

The machine beeped one last time and Nathalie’s chest rose no more as a desperate and impotent Alistair screamed and pounded all his grief on a window pane.

Heather and Alistair’s Apartment.

Saturday, January 31
^st
, 2009.

1.08 a.m.

Alistair closed the door behind him and looked around Nathalie’s empty room.

He wished he could kill Heather for what she had done.

But he couldn’t.

He heaved a breath as a pain that couldn’t be expressed took hold of him, going on and on, crushing him.

The knowledge that she was gone - forever - and that he would have to live on without her, swelled the emotions that gripped his heart. Alistair flung himself in her small bed, burying his nose in her sweet scented pillow.

I deserve to live in hell.
“Nathalie,” sorrowfully he sobbed his little daughter’s name. “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”

He laid there in darkness, completely devastated, as huge sobs left his chest and his tears soaked the small pink pillow he clutched to his face.

His pain was so excruciating, his grief was so profound, his guilt was so enormous that no matter how many tears he shed, they would not ease his despair.

In the space of a few hours, Alistair Connor MacCraig turned into a black hole of nothingness.

Ells Hall.

Saturday, March 20
^th
, 2010.

6.16 a.m.

Fragmented images swirled in a dizzying kaleidoscope of red and black. Grueling impressions of cold and pain and discomfort were overlaid with confusion and growing awareness.

Alistair fought his way out of sleep, breathing heavily as the remnants of the nightmare fell away.

He inhaled deep and looked at the windows and, through the opening in the curtains, saw that dawn was already overtaking night with its soft pink and orange hues. He felt Sophia shift slightly, still pressed closely to him. Since he started sleeping with her, he hadn’t dreamt about his daughter, but the dread of telling Sophia his dark secret had brought the painful memories back.

He rose and put on a T-shirt, shorts and running shoes. He silently left the bedroom heading to the Spa. He knew that no matter how many hours he exhausted himself on the tread-mill and with weights, nothing would take away from his memories the last image he had of Nathalie.