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‘You want me to come up with you?’
He didn’t bother answering, he just kept hold of her hand.
Up in the private wing, he’d left the lights off and the curtains open, so now the view was nothing but stars. He drew her to the sofa with him. The fire burning in the grate cast heat and a glow that made her even more radiant.
‘I’m glad you have happy memories here,’ she said softly. ‘But sometimes it’s the happy memories that hurt most.’
She was awfully right about that. She was, he realised, awfully wise.
‘This was always my favourite place,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve not been back here for Christmas in all this time. Twenty-one years.’
She simply looked at him. And that was all it took for the words he’d never spoken to fall.
‘Joan died in July, just a month after Eloise was born. She had a stroke out of the blue. My grandfather was heartbroken and he grew very frail, very quickly, and lasted only a few months without her. I was...’ He shrugged. His heart hurt too much and he had to look away from the deepening compassion in Violet’s eyes. ‘They were my go-to when my parents were down. I’d wanted to be enough for them. I was happy, and I couldn’t understand why they weren’t, why they wanted more. But then they did, they had Eloise. I’d been so spoiled by my grandparents and in less than six months I’d lost them both.’
‘Children should be spoiled,’ she said softly. ‘I was spoiled too in a way.’
Not like him. ‘I didn’t want to come back here for Christmas that year. I couldn’t face it without them.’ He stared at the fire burning low in the grate. ‘It was my idea that we go to Scotland for Christmas.’
Beside him, Violet sat very still. ‘They wouldn’t have gone if they didn’t want to.’
‘I know. It was a way of checking out a possible hotel purchase. I even framed it that way to my father when I suggested it. I knew he’d say yes to that. My mother didn’t want to take either a nanny or a driver. She wanted it to be the four of us because she felt our family was finally complete.’
‘You can’t blame yourself for the accident, Roman. It wasn’t your fault.’
Couldn’t he?
‘Those were decisions made by adults,’ she added. ‘You were ten.’
‘But I’d been born into the business. I knew they’d say yes.’
She didn’t try to argue. She took his hand and held it between both of hers and remained wordless. Because sometimes there was nothing anyone couldsay. Sometimes you could onlystaywith someone. And eventually Roman’s breathing eased, slowed and deepened as Violet stayed, watching the stars and the sparks in the fire and holding his hand in hers so he wasn’t alone.
For once Violet was the one wide awake while Roman was fast asleep. And it wasn’t because of her rumbling stomach. She was still wrapping her head around what he’d told her. He’d suffered so many losses that year, no wonder he was so protective of his heart. All she wanted was to wrap aroundhim. To love him.
Because she loved him already.
Violet froze—still curled up with him on the sofa—as she realised the truth. She was already completely and utterly and totally in love with him. And it wasn’t just that he was gorgeous, he was funny and kind and smart and unbearably sexy. But this was the last thing he wanted. He was serious and focused on work and he got bored easily with women. He’d be bored with her soon enough. Eventually he’d see sense and relinquish the wedding idea. He’d install her in some fancy house and ensure she and the baby had everything. But she didn’t want everything. She just wanted him.
Which meant she could never, ever agree to marry him now.Thatwould destroy her. She’d made such a mistake. It wasn’t that she rejected his protection. Her heart was his prisoner. And she was going to be shackled to him for the rest of her life because of their baby. Their baby, who she wanted more than she wanted to breathe. For whom she would do anything and everything—whoshewanted to protect. She understood that too.
She loved them both with everything she had. And now she was tense with anxiety. She wished she could control everything...but everything important, everything fundamental, was beyond her control. When one lived, when one died...they would happen when they happened. One could only love with everything one had while one could. One had to accept it and enjoy it for as long as it lasted.
But finally she understood her mother. She’d always understood it on a rational basis—wanting to make things perfect for someone you loved, especially when that person was vulnerable. She’d been vulnerable and her mother had wanted to make everything fabulous. But now she really understood theemotion. The irrational, almost desperate desire to make everything so much better than okay. But it wasn’t possible. Perfect didn’t exist. Like the perfect Christmas—what did it matter if the ‘right’ gift wasn’t bought, if the food wasn’t cooked on time, if there’d been a variation on the old recipe or if the tree lights were strung at a wonky angle? The perfect Christmas was time with the people you loved. Letting them be, loving them for who they were, supporting them in the things they wanted to do.
Trying too hard, thinking too much, worrying too much... Those things all made everything awkward. So she had to let this go. She had to let what would be, be. She had to trust that it would be okay. Because therewasa little trust there in her heart. Because he’d turned to her today. He’d sought out her company because...
He liked sleeping with her? Yes. But tonight it hadn’t been that at all. Tonight had been more. It was so complicated, so confusing, she could barely breathe. She felt hot and flustered, too stupidly hopeful. Suddenly she needed fresh air. She needed to clear her head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ROMANJOLTED.HEFROZEand took mental stock as adrenalin shocked him into a hyper-alert state. His muscles were stiff, his shirt stuck to his skin. Memory returned. They’d fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the fire. Now the flames had faded to embers and, not only was he cold, he was alone. He hauled himself together and stood, aching all over. Violet must’ve gone to bed. He’d join her there. But the big bed in the adjoining room was empty. He flicked the lights on to double-check, blinking at the brightness.
She wasn’t there. He paused and listened. It was a big house. And it was very, very quiet. His pulse lifted. He checked the nearest guest bedroom. And the one after that. Then the next one. All empty and undisturbed.
‘Violet?’ He walked along the corridor to the stairs. ‘Violet?’
On the ground floor, he stared. The front door was ajar. Cold air curled in, sinking the core temperature of the house. His pulse pushed his blood so fast, it thundered. He could hear nothing else.
