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It was nearly all finished… Josie bit her lip as she stood on the cool, powdery sand of Luke's private beach, gazing out over a grey-blue sea. And then this chapter of her life would be closed, for ever. And she would probably never see him again, never hear his voice, see those devastating silver eyes narrow…
She hugged her middle tight and bit back a moan of pain. She had chosen this way; she had chosen it and there was no going back now. Not that he would want her after what she had told him. And that had to be got through too-enduring the contempt and disgust in his face whenever he glanced her way, knowing she had brought his scorn and loathing on herself by her own decision—
'Beautiful, isn't it?' She froze, unable to breathe, to move, to make any sound at all as his breath touched her neck in a whisper-soft caress. 'Timeless, untouchable… The tides come in and go out, careless of anything but their God-ordained rhythm.'
His arms slipped round her waist, drawing her back against him so that his chin was resting on the top of her head as they both gazed out across the water, and but for the support of his body she would have fallen to the ground as her legs became too weak to hold her.
'You fooled me, you know.' His voice was soft, deep, almost expressionless. 'That night at my house, you fooled me completely…for a while. Until the bruised ego and wounded pride took a step backwards and I could see clearly again.'
She still didn't speak; she didn't date, besides which she wanted nothing more for the rest of her life than to be like this with him, and she knew it would end only too soon, and once it did—reality. The bottomless pit of reality and the rest of her life to be got through, somehow.
'And that note—'I'm sorry'. I don't know another woman in this world who would have left it at that. So I started digging. I hired a few private detectives.' He felt her flinch but his grip tightened as his calm, steady voice went on. 'And they dug and they dug. It took time, but yesterday I had the full facts and they had their bonus—'
'You think money can buy everything?' She swung round in his hold as he relaxed his arms just enough for her to be able to turn and face him. 'Is that what you think? Because—'
'Not everything.' And as his eyes locked with hers she knew. He had found out. Somehow he had found out. It was there in the intense silver-grey of his black-lashed eyes and in the compassionate tone of his voice. 'No, not everything, my love,' he said softly. 'Would that it could.'
'Why didn't you tell me, Josie? Why that cruel cock and bull story about a married man? That didn't make sense at first—not at first. You could easily have told me the truth when I said how I felt; you didn't have to try to make me hate you. And all the rest of it that my bloodhounds dug up—the lack of men in your life, your isolation—that didn't correspond with the way you responded in my arms—'
'Stop this—stop it!' She couldn't bear it that he knew; she couldn't bear it, she thought as she struggled wildly.
'Do you care for me, Josie, even a little?' His hands were bruising the soft flesh of her arms now, but neither of them was aware of it. 'Do you! I want the truth.'
'No, no…' She turned her head this way and that, escaping the rapier light of his eyes.
'Look at me.' He shook her, snapping her head back. 'You will look at me, Josie, now. I've been to hell and back a million times a day these last few weeks; the least you can do is tell me if there's any chance—'
Any chance? Her heart was thundering in her ears and she felt something break inside, the last of her control shattering as she screamed at him at the top of her voice, 'What are you talking about? Any chance! Don't you realise what I am? What it would mean if you married me? I'm barren! Barren! Empty—no good! You'd never have your heir or those little girls you talked about, not from me—'
'Stop it, Josie.' His face had gone grey under its tan but she couldn't have stopped if her life had depended on it, the pain of years flowing out in a scalding river of anguish and grief.
'Luke, there would be no hope, no possibility of ever having children with me,' she cried desperately. 'Don't you understand that? The price of having me for your wife would be too high. You would never see your child born, hear its first cry, hold it in your arms. Never search a tiny face, seeking to find a little bit of me, a little bit of you. Never be able to say 'my son'—'
'I know. I know all that.' If he skirted the issue now he would lose her for ever; he knew that. Just as he had known, the moment she lost control, that she loved him. But he might still lose her, and that wasn't to be borne.
'No, you don't, not really.' She was gasping now, her body shaking in his arms, and as he lowered her to the ground he came with her, to sit with bra: on the beach, facing her with his hands cupping her face as tears streamed down her cheeks.
'I do, Josie. I understand. I've been to the hospital. I've even spoken with consultants, medical people—'
'Then why are you putting us both through this?' she asked desperately, closing her eyes to block out his face. 'You want a wife who can share everything with you, and I can't even begin to do that.'
'That's cruel, my love, cruel and untrue,' he said steadily, knowing that what he said and did in the next few minutes would influence whether he merely existed for the rest of his life or lived. 'And I'm going to ask you again—do you love me, even a little?'
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p; 'I—' She opened her eyes to deny it, but the storm had taken something out of her and she couldn't say the words.
'Do you?' he persisted grimly.
'It makes no difference how I feel,' she whispered brokenly. 'How could I marry you when I can't give you the desire of your heart? What sort of love is that?'
'You are the desire of my heart,' he said emphatically. 'Just you. I can't give you back what that accident took from you, but if it hadn't happened you might never have come into my life, and I would never have known what it is to love. I've known many women throughout my life, had many liaisons, but I have never loved one of them.'
'But you would meet someone,' she protested, her voice quieter now.
'No, I never would,' he said steadily. 'There can only be you.'
'But your heir? You want children, you know you do, and your mother—'
