Be My Bride. Natalie Anderson
and the flash in his eyes. ‘The less expectations, the better. I don’t want to hurt anyone.’
‘How considerate of you.’
‘I like to think so.’ A low purr, filled with that old arrogance.
She angled her head and pulled the strap of her bag more tightly to her shoulder. ‘Of course,’ she said conversationally, ‘I wouldn’t say that it was because you don’t want to hurt anyone.’
‘No?’
‘I’d say it was because you don’t want to be hurt yourself.’
‘No.’
‘No, you don’t want to be hurt? Or no, I’m wrong?’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘I’ve been wrong about many things, but I’m not wrong about this.’ She cleared her throat. ‘You’re afraid of intimacy.’
He laughed outright at that. ‘Not sex,’ she sighed. ‘IN.TIM.ACY. Letting someone in your life. Trusting someone. Being brave enough to rely on someone. You can’t do that. And the work thing is just the excuse you give. You don’t want to commit to anyone. You even admitted that once. And the reason is because you’re too scared.’ She snuck a breath, starting to get upset. ‘But don’t make excuses with me. Don’t come back and bother me. Don’t do that to me.’
‘I bother you?’
Of course he bothered her. She hated him for it. For not loving her the way she wanted him to. But she could be okay with it, she could get over it, so long as he stayed away. ‘All I’ve ever been is another prize for you to win. And once you’ve won, you’re done—’
‘You were never a prize to me,’ he suddenly shouted. ‘You were always—’ He broke off, closing his eyes. ‘Perfect.’ His eyes flashed open again, serious and wide and riveted on her. ‘You were the prettiest woman I’d ever seen. And the sexiest. The way you looked at me? And then I really saw you. Got to see and know the person you are. The way you did things for everyone. You cared so much for everyone. I wanted you to care for me. You were so lovely. You’re still so lovely. Not a prize, but the most precious thing. And hell, yes, I feel scared around you— when you only have to look at me to pierce through to my bones. You have always mattered to me.’ He paced away from her, then spun on his heel.
‘I never wanted to care about what people thought of me. I already knew what they thought of me and where I came from.’ He shook his head. ‘But I knew that was irrelevant to what I wanted. I’m proud of the way I’ve made a success of my life. And I won’t ever give that up—those wins are mine for ever. And I’ll keep winning. But I knew I didn’t fit in. Frankly I didn’t care. Then I met Oliver and he didn’t care at all about my background. No looks or comments. This from a guy who came from a background of such privilege—not just money, but family. He invited me to his home—the first real Christmas I’d ever had. Snow and everything—a fairy tale. And there was an angel there too. A porcelain doll with green eyes and blonde hair and her heart on her sleeve. Sweet, compassionate, caring. And when she looked at me? It wasn’t disapproval or distrust that I saw. It was desire. Raw, adult desire.’ He swallowed. ‘I wanted her. I wanted everything she had to give. Like I’ve never wanted anything from any other person before.’
The pain in Victoria’s chest spilled over. ‘Did you want her? Or was she just a symbol of it all—the family, the Christmas—that whole scene that you’d never had?’
‘I just wanted her. And I gave up what I’d found—that brotherly friendship—to try to have her.’
‘No, you didn’t. You didn’t take what you could have taken. You said it yourself—you didn’t seduce me. All you did was ask a question and I was too scared to answer it honestly.’ She shook her head. ‘I was supposed to be perfect,’ she said sadly. ‘I thought I’d lose everything. And then I lost everything anyway.’ She sighed. ‘So I’m not what you thought I was. I’m no angel. I’m not some perfect thing to be put on a pedestal. I make mistakes. I can be mean. I can’t be perfect.’ She couldn’t live up to whatever image he had of her in his head. She’d only disappoint him.
‘I know that,’ he said. ‘I know you. And I just want you all the more.’
Victoria drew a shaky breath. ‘Other women had wanted you.’
‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘Other women had. But you were different. You were genuine. You had a softness in you. You were so attuned to other people. So empathetic. So aware of how they were feeling. You care about how other people are feeling. You want people to be happy.’
‘It’s a weakness. I put off things that I wanted for fear of what other people might say or think or if they might treat me differently. You’re so fearless. You don’t give a damn.’
‘I’m full of fear. And I do give a damn. Both are related to you.’
‘This can’t work,’ she whispered. ‘You said yourself relationships don’t work with your lifestyle. And you can’t change, you can’t stop doing something that you love because of me. I couldn’t live with that.’
‘I’m not going to stop, I’m going to adjust. I want to set up a sailing school. I actually want to settle. If I’m with you. But I don’t want to hold you back. I know you’ve held back because of other people in your life. I know you didn’t do things because of your parents and what happened with your sister, and Oliver. I don’t want you doing that because of me. But, Victoria, I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’ve found myself in tricky situations before—we can find a solution to this. But you have to tell me what you want. Don’t say whatever you think I want to hear. Be honest. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I can stay. Whatever, wherever you want.’
‘I want to work.’ She blinked back tears. She couldn’t give up her job. She needed the stimulation, the security. But she also needed love. ‘And I want to be with you. I want you. I love you too.’
His arms wrapped tight around her, pulling her in close. Noses bumped before lips touched and clung and her tears fell. He leaned back against the wall, taking her with him, so they both rested against the solid structure. The most incredible feeling of relief swept through her. Relief—and disbelief too.
‘I understand you don’t want to move.’ He spoke fast, his warm breath stirring her hair. ‘I have money. We’ll get an apartment with a nice view of the river.’
Left Bank? She pressed her face against his tee before pulling back to shake her head and laugh—albeit a bit watery. ‘I’d prefer an apartment with a view of the sea or the ocean. Whichever one.’
He frowned. ‘But what about your work?’
‘It’s transportable,’ she admitted. ‘I just need a workspace with good light and an Internet connection and a post office nearby.’ She looked at him. ‘I don’t want to lose you again either.’
‘You never will.’
She curled her fingers into his tee. She nearly had lost him again. But he’d come after her. He’d held onto her.
His heart pounded against hers. She felt his tension, realised that he truly had been afraid. As vulnerable as she. She leaned closer into him and let him soothe her with the gentle strokes of his hand down her back, the light kisses he pressed into her hair.
‘It’s taken us so long to get here,’ he said softly.
‘I can’t regret it. I won’t. I don’t. I’m not the girl I was when I first met you. I couldn’t have handled you then. I can now.’ She lifted her head and looked at him, brushed her fingers on his jaw. ‘We weren’t right for each other then.’
‘You agree we are now?’ He pulled her closer. ‘I’m not letting you go again. Not ever.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Don’t