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‘You’ve got the wrong man,’ Ben said flatly.
‘No. I haven’t.’ This was harder than she’d thought, but she couldn’t let up now. ‘He’s older now, of course, and his hair is grey, but the cut is still the same and the face is clearly his.’
Ben shook his head.
She needed one last jolt.
‘He was definitely the Colonel from the photograph in your wallet.’ She steeled herself for the next bit. ‘The one with Daniel.’
Even
then Ben refused to believe her. Drained, she had no choice but to let it go, and when he changed the subject she let him. But the very fact he’d told her who the man was gave Thea even more hope.
‘Anyway, thanks for the scan pic,’ he muttered, finally slipping his wallet into his back pocket.
‘Sure,’ she managed awkwardly, sipping her coffee again and watching the flames lick over the logs.
‘Would you have told me?’ Ben asked suddenly. ‘In the end? If you had had the baby? Earlier? I mean, say, four years ago?’
She’d often wondered about that. The answer had always been the same. ‘Probably.’
‘You think so?’
She nodded. ‘I think probably just before I was due. I couldn’t have imagined the baby being born and not giving you the chance to be there. I still... I still loved you back then. And I couldn’t have faced my child in the future and told it I hadn’t been able to put aside my own pride to give it a chance a relationship with you.’
He stared into the fire again, then said simply, ‘Thank you.’
It was odd. His entire reaction to the news of their baby had been unexpected. For the first time Thea didn’t feel quite so alone. But she still felt raw, exposed, and she knew Ben’s revelations about his father had left him feeling equally vulnerable.
Tentatively they began to make small talk, but she wasn’t really surprised when Ben suddenly leaned forward and took her face in her hands, then kissed her.
The kiss conveyed all the raw emotion that had been circling around them all evening. Tonight the flimsy veil had been lifted on the void which was always inside her, and his deep, searching, almost fervent kiss let her know he was feeling just as vulnerable and exposed.
His kiss was almost desperate, and it mirrored every fear and emotion in her gut. She responded to it on a primal level, allowing Ben to pull her to her feet so that they could get closer, and his hands moved quickly over her back, around to her front, grazing her breast through the fabric.
She wanted to let him carry on, take more from her, give her more. But she couldn’t—not yet. She stilled his hand uncertainly. As much as her body was crying out for them to make love, to give that empty feeling some relief, if only temporarily, her mind couldn’t quite let go of the last time. She didn’t want that rejection again.
Suddenly Ben pulled back from her, leaving her feeling momentarily bereft, before she realised he had lifted his jumper and tee over his head in one movement and now stood, unmoving and wordless, in front of her. Slowly she took in the long, thin scars which circled his arm, from where it had been reattached, the thick, circular splodge of a scar under his armpit, from where the surgeons had entered his chest cavity, and the criss-cross of scars over various parts of his torso from where metal debris and bullets had grazed his skin. Silvery and light in some places and angry red welts in others.
Her raw sadness was dulled slightly, somewhat eased by the enormity of the step Ben had taken in letting her see them. She took them all in, her eyes raking from one to another to another and back. Finally she took a step forward, reaching a tentative hand out to touch them, half expecting him to pull away, surprised when her fingers ran softly over his skin and still he didn’t reject her. But his body was taut, his apprehension spilling out in his body language, and Thea longed to set him at ease.
Dipping her head down, she only hesitated for a fraction of a second before letting her lips make contact with the damaged skin. She dropped little kisses at first, becoming bolder when he remained motionless, his hands clenched by his sides as if he was fighting an internal battle. She trailed kisses down the criss-crosses, lower and lower, until they dipped out of sight beneath the waistband of his jeans.
She leaned back to look at him in silent question. Was he ready to trust her completely?
His hands moved to unbutton the jeans, stilling as she covered them with her own, her eyes never leaving his as she stripped him of the rest of his clothing. Finally he was standing naked and proud in front of her, the trust she had wanted at last in evidence. As well as something more.
Sensing her ultimate capitulation, Ben pulled Thea to him and swept her into his arms as he lowered them both quickly to the rug. Despite herself, Thea knew that tonight was about losing themselves in each other. Masking the grief they were both feeling. In some ways she could see Ben’s actions as progress. But what was driving them might be a step forward, or it might be another scurry backwards.
CHAPTER TWELVE
BEN CONCENTRATED ON the slope, acutely aware of Thea skiing so close next to him, acutely aware of everything she was dong. After last night things should have been good between them. Better than good. He had finally trusted her enough to let her see his scars—the unmistakable evidence that he’d survived a war which had indiscriminately taken the lives of others. Taken the life of Dan.
But showing Thea those scars was only part of it. He bore other scars. Scars which couldn’t be seen. Emotional scars from the bomb blast, from Dan’s death, and until he let Thea see those—as incredible as the sex had been between them—there was no shaking the truth that things had happened out of sequence. As a result of raw emotions. And they both knew that.
Thea’s revelation about their baby had sent him reeling. Last night it had been an incredible shock. But in the cold light of day the shock was receding and he felt as though a hollow emptiness was tearing a hole inside him. How could you miss something, feel such pain and loss, for a baby you had never even known about? And yet he felt as though he was grieving that, too.
Somehow Thea’s secret had given him the excuse of avoiding telling her about Dan—yet again. But he knew that until that final obstacle was removed, once and for all, there could be no future for them.
