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Her brow wrinkled.
‘Something even more precious than this,’ he said, stroking the curve of the jar with a delicacy that appreciated its subtle beauty.
She shook her head, mystified. She had nothing more precious, she thought as he picked up her hands, drawing her away towards the middle of the room, towards the long, white couch scattered with jewel-bright cushions.
He halted in a pool of sunlight that mantled his powerful shoulders in a cloak of gold and lifted her hands to the warm mat of hair on his chest, letting her feel the unsteady thud of his heart. ‘Something you could never sell, you could only give away. Your own “one, true thing”, Emily…’
Realisation dawned. Her breath caught in her throat at the tender understanding in his eyes, the passionate conviction in his voice. As usual, he was already one step ahead of her. ‘Oh! Oh, that…’
‘And instead of honouring the gift you gave me, I used you.’
She felt a twist of pain. Had she misread him? ‘No—’
‘Yes, because I enjoyed having you love me, even while I pretended I didn’t want to know.
‘You made me feel too much, Emily, and that frightened me—it took me back to a time in my life when I felt utterly helpless to control the emotional chaos inside me—so I kept throwing up roadblocks, trying to find reasons to dislike you, to hold back—to not allow myself to find you sexy, funny, attractive, kind, sweet…not to see you as you really were, not to want you. And when that didn’t work, it was so much easier to reduce it to sex, to call it passion or desire, because then I could walk away from it if I chose, the way I always had before.
‘But I can’t walk away from you, Emily,’ he said quietly, placing his hand along her cheek, his thumb brushing across her lips. ‘I tried it and it didn’t work,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘You’re too much a part of me—a part I don’t want to deny any more. You didn’t answer your phone last night and I nearly went crazy worrying about what might have happened. I almost rang Dylan to ask him to check on you for me, but I knew he’d laugh me off the phone.’
‘Peter told me about the insurance money. I was brooding,’ she confessed. ‘And plotting my revenge,’ she added, looking at him under her lashes.
‘I gave you the money in part because I wanted you to be totally free to make your own choices, not feel trapped by Peter’s expectations—or mine,’ he said. ‘But I admit that there was also an element of manipulation. I enjoyed feeling in control—knowing I was helping you without having to explain why I felt the need to do so. What I really wanted was for you to be free to choose to be with me.’
‘I already had chosen you,’ she reminded him huskily. She moved her hands over his chest, feeling his heartbeat accelerate. ‘I loved you so much you made me tongue-tied. Last night I decided that it was time I laid my heart on the line. I let you stop me saying the words because I was afraid of losing you. That jar was a message that you mean more to me than all the pots in China.’
His mouth curved at her solemn sincerity. ‘And you mean more to me than all the roses in my garden,’ he teased.
‘In spite of my sordid beginnings?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘I’m just grateful to whoever gave you life, because that life has finally put you here, where you belong,’ he said simply.
She slid her arms slid around his waist, revelling in the feel of his hot satin skin, her eyes iridescent with joy. ‘Do you mean that?’
He tipped up her head, his hard mouth moving passionately over her pliant lips, half smothering the long-awaited words.
‘I mean that I love you, MsWest,’ she thought she heard him say.
Her loving laughter echoed in the warm cavern of his mouth.
‘That’s Quest, not West.’
He fell down with her onto the white couch and lay her against his heart. ‘What say we clear up that potential confusion for once and for all?’
‘And how do you propose to do that?’ she invited huskily, linking her arms around his neck.
His eyes gleamed with wicked humour. ‘Why, by proposing, of course…that we get rid of that pesky and divisive Q!’
