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She stared at him. ‘Why do you want to hurt me?’ she said slowly. ‘I thought we were past all that. You said you wanted me to forget and that you wanted to change—’
Laszlo grimaced.
‘And I meant it,’ he said shakily. ‘But then, when I told my grandfather this morning about being a godfather, I just kept thinking about all the lies I’ve told him and how badly I treated you—’ His face twisted. ‘I just don’t think I can stand up in front of all those people and make promises.’
Prudence swallowed. She felt helpless in the face of his uncertainty, for Laszlo had always been so sure, so secure in his beliefs.
‘Why not?’ She looked up at his face and then, taking a breath, reached out and took his hand. ‘Why not?’ she repeated.
He stared down at her hand almost in bewilderment, and for a moment Prudence thought he would push it away. But instead his fingers tightened on hers and she had to bite back tears.
‘Surely you, of all people, don’t need to ask me that?’ he said quietly.
His eyes fixed on her face and she realised with astonishment that she did. She had actually forgotten what had happened between them. Her breath stilled. Forgotten and forgiven—for of course she loved him, and what purer form of love was there but forgiveness?
‘Mihaly wouldn’t have asked you to be a godparent if he didn’t think you could do it.’
He looked away, his face creasing with frustration. ‘I told you. Mihaly chose me because I’m family. And family comes first,’ he muttered hoarsely.
Prudence’s eyes blazed. ‘And who knows that more than you? Janos told me how you stayed with him the whole time your grandmother was ill. And you’re still here now, taking care of him.’
She paused, her words and the emotion behind them choking her.
‘Look at me!’ she commanded. ‘You even let me stay to make him happy. Despite everything that had happened between us you let it go. For him.’ She shook her head. ‘You’re strong and loyal and kind. And I think you’ll be a wonderful godfather.’
There was a moment’s charged silence and then Laszlo lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly. ‘So. When did you become my number one fan, pireni?’ he murmured unsteadily.
Lost in the golden softness of his gaze, she let out a long, shaking breath. ‘I’m not saying there’s not room for improvement...’ she said slowly.
He smiled and she saw that his misery and confusion was fading and his confidence had returned too, and also a peace that hadn’t been there before—as though something...some burden...had been lifted from his shoulders.
‘Is that so?’ he asked lightly. ‘Perhaps you could give me a little bit of guidance. Point me in the right direction!’
He ran his hand lightly down her arm, his fingers brushing against her breast. She nodded, grateful that his words required no answer, for her mind was struggling to think of something other than the touch of his hands on her skin.
But even as she let him pull her closer her relief was tinged with confusion. Not so many days ago she had hated Laszlo. Now she was championing his cause, and with a joy almost like a jolt of pain she realised that for the first time ever he had needed her.
She felt his hand moving rhythmically over her back, lower and lower. But what did any of that matter really? She might love Laszlo, but for him this relationship was only ever going to be about great sex. Nothing would change that. But she could change how she reacted to that fact like when she’d been a child and she’d wanted a star for her birthday. Eventually she’d got over it and settled for a dolls’ house. That was what you did when you wanted the impossible. You took what was offered instead. And if all Laszlo could offer was passion, then she wasn’t going to dwell on the impossible.
‘Why are you shivering? Are you cold?’
‘No,’ she said and swallowed.
Gently, his breathing not quite steady, he pulled her closer. She felt the warmth of his body against her and some of her confusion seemed to go away. And then his arms tightened and, leaning against him, she reached up and pulled his mouth onto hers, kissing him with fierce desperation.
Blindly, he pulled her closer, pressing her against him, deepening the kiss, tasting, teasing, tracing the shape of her lips. Prudence whimpered. Her skin was squirming with tensi
on, drops of pleasure spreading over her skin in rippling concentric circles. She could feel her body melting; feel his hardening, the swollen length of his arousal pressing against her pelvis.
His grip tightened in her hair and she felt him shudder—and then he groaned softly and pushed her away.
‘Wh—what’s the matter?’ She took a step backwards, gripping his shirt to steady herself. ‘Why have you stopped?’
Laszlo gave a strangled smile. ‘I want to tear all your clothes off.’ He glanced over his shoulder. ‘But Rosa will be up here any minute. We need some place private.’ He felt a flash of panic: he sounded like some gauche teenage boy.
‘So take me somewhere private. Somewhere I can tear your clothes off,’ she said slowly.
Groaning, he lowered his mouth and kissed her fiercely. And then from the hallway there was the sound of voices and laughter and he tore his lips away from hers. They stared at each other, panting, and then finally he held out his hand.
