To Love, Honour and Betray Page 14

Somehow, he’d always known this day would come. It was almost a relief to get it over with, rather than always wondering when it would happen. When she would leave him. His hands tightened over the ring, feeling the hard diamond bite into his palm. He spoke over the razor blade in his throat.

  “I will start divorce proceedings tomorrow.”

  Her lips parted. “What?”

  “I’ll do what I should have done a long time ago.” He looked at her. “Set you free.”

  Tears streaked her pale, beautiful face like stardust in the fading red twilight outside the latticed window. “I just can’t live with a man who doesn’t trust me. Who tries to control every aspect of my life.”

  “I understand.” He gave her a grim smile. “I told you on our wedding day that when our marriage ended, the prenuptial agreement would see us through.”

  His wife looked white and wan, standing beside the bed. She looked like a ghost. “I didn’t think you would let me go so easily.”

  He tried to ignore the fierce, white-hot blade of pain that entered his body.

  “I am tired,” he said harshly, “of always wondering what you’re thinking. What you’re doing. Tired of waiting for the day you’ll wise up and leave.” Rising to his feet, he cupped her cheek. She shuddered a little, turning toward his touch like a flower. He said hoarsely, “It’s almost easier this way.”

  “And Marisol …” she whispered.

  The knife twisted in his chest. Dropping his hand, he stepped back. “We will always be her parents. We’ll be respectful of each other, for her sake. I will pay child support. We will share custody.”

  “Right,” she said, looking dazed. “Right.”

  “And if there is another child …” His lips curved humorlessly. “This time, you will tell me, sí?”

  “Yes. Yes, I will.” Callie’s lovely, round face looked bewildered as she swayed where she stood, like a drunk who’d lost her balance.

  “You and your family can return to North America tomorrow.”

  She turned, walked two steps then looked back at him. He could see her shaking. “And Brandon?”

  “Ah, yes.” He smiled grimly. “Brandon. As you said, he is a member of your family, is he not? As I,” he added lightly, “never was.”

  She swallowed then looked up at him pleadingly. “You won’t … won’t do anything to hurt him?”

  Reaching out, Eduardo brushed some long wavy tendrils of light brown hair off her shoulder. Even now, saying goodbye, he was mesmerized by Callie’s beauty. Now more than ever. When he was losing her forever.

  “Of course I will not hurt him. I’m not the monster you seem to think.” He remembered how he’d been tempted to kill the man just hours before, and shook his head with a hard laugh. “Well. I have no reason to hurt him now. Our marriage is over. We are free.”

  “Free …” she whispered.

  McLinn’s harsh words from long ago went through Eduardo’s mind. You can’t keep me from her. We both know you’re not good enough for her. You’ll never make her happy. And he realized that he’d always agreed. But he’d tried to keep Callie just the same. Selfish and wrong, when he knew he’d never be able to love her the way she deserved. Christ—he couldn’t even sleep in the same bed.

  “Yes. You’re free.” Eduardo turned away, making his voice deliberately casual as he said, “Marisol fell asleep in her playpen, in your parents’ room. Do you want to see her?”

  Callie did not answer. She just looked at him, her green eyes dark as a midnight sea. Her beautiful, grief-stricken face was more than Eduardo could bear. It had to end, he thought heavily. So let it end. Merciful and quick.

  Taking his wife’s limp hand, he pulled her out of their bedroom and through the deepening shadows of the courtyard. Midway through the garden, she stopped. He looked back at her in the twilight, surrounded by the shadows of palm trees and the soft cool burble of the fountain. Crystalline tears sparkled down her pale cheeks, glimmering in the fading moonlight.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes luminous. “So sorry.”

  Exhaling, Eduardo slowly pulled her into his arms. She pressed her face against his heart, which felt like it was breaking beneath his ribs.

  Her voice was sodden, muffled against his shirt. “I didn’t want it to end this way …”

  His arms trembled around her. He thought of all his mistakes, everything he’d done wrong from the beginning, all the things he would have changed if he could. But the truth was he didn’t know how. He couldn’t trust anyone—especially not someone he loved. Because deep in his heart, he didn’t believe in happy endings, only bad ones. Ones that felt like this.

  “It was never your fault,” he said, stroking her hair. “Just mine. All mine.”

  Hearing Callie sob, his throat constricted, and he wanted to cut out his ears, his eyes, rather than be faced with the pain he’d caused her. Desperately he pushed his feelings away, just as he’d done his whole life. Lifting her chin, he gave her a crooked smile. “Our marriage wasn’t all bad, was it?”

  “No,” she whispered, searching his gaze in the shadows. “Most of it was wonderful.”

  “We gave our daughter a name. We will still give her a good home.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “But two homes. Apart.”

  He gave her a single unsteady nod then looked away, afraid of what she would see in his eyes. Afraid to speak and have her hear weakness in his voice. For long moments, he held her in the deepening shadows of the courtyard, listening to the water of the cool fountain as they stood in silence. Above them, palm trees waved against the deepening violet night.

  Eduardo closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair. Feeling the sweet softness of her body against his, knowing he was holding her for the last time.

  It was best for her to leave. It was the only way to spare them both unnecessary pain. But the thought of it felt like death.

  “It’s all right,” he said, gently brushing the tears from her cheeks, though he knew it would never be all right again. “You’ll go home. You’ll be happy there, just like you were.”

  “Yes, I will.” She wept.

  He heard the hoarseness of her voice, and knew what the words cost her. Emotion rushed through him, and before he could stop himself, he cupped her face in both his hands. “But before you leave, there’s one thing you have to know. One important thing I’ve never said.” He looked down at her. “I love you.”

  Callie sucked in her breath, her eyes wide.

  “I love you as I’ve never loved anyone.” He looked down at the flowers at his feet. “But I can’t love you without hurting you. Without hurting both of us. Without being a man I don’t want to be.” Looking at her stricken face, he whispered over the razor blade in his throat, “That’s why I’m letting you go.”

  In the shadows of the garden, Callie’s eyes were deep emerald, like an ancient forest older than time itself. Her beauty was like an ache in his heart. Unwillingly he lifted his hand to her cheek, touching the softness of her skin as he looked into her eyes, connecting them soul to soul. Beneath the violet-tinged sky swept with stars, he heard the howl of the wind, shaking the palm trees above.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t love you as you deserve,” he said hoarsely. “I always knew I didn’t deserve you. And I knew, from the beginning, that it was a matter of time—”

  Standing on her toes, Callie cut off his words by covering his mouth with her own.

  Her lips were soft and sweet, trembling against him. He felt the warmth of her body against his, and a surge of anguished need rushed through him like an overflowing river. A gasp came from the back of his throat, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him tightly as he returned her kiss hungrily. On her lips, he tasted salt with the sweet and no longer knew if they were her tears, or his own. All he knew was that he was kissing her for the last time and he had to make it last forever. He had to kiss her so deep and hard that he’d possess this memory for all time, not just on his lips
, but in his heart.

  Eduardo’s fingers twined through her long hair as they embraced, their bodies pressing together as they clutched each other mindlessly in front of the courtyard fountain. He felt the tangled smoothness of her hair, breathed in her scent of flowers and vanilla that mingled with the exotic spices of the desert wind. He stroked down her back, marveling at her shape as he wrapped his far larger body around the small woman who’d conquered him so completely. Looking at her, touching her soft skin, feeling her breasts against his chest, he kissed her with anguished passion. Need burned away every other thought or desire of his soul, except to possess her.

  With a gasp, he pulled away. Looking down at her beautiful face, he saw the shadows of the rising moon move against her skin; saw the breathless, aching need in her eyes. Without a word, he lifted her up into his arms. He carried her silently to their bedroom.

  For the last time, he took Callie to bed.

  Setting her down on the mattress, beneath the pattern of moonlight through the latticed window, Eduardo pulled off her blouse, kissing her neck, her shoulders, her arms. He pulled off her skirt, stroking the length of her legs, kissing the sensitive spot behind her knees with a flick of his tongue. He pulled off her lacy white bra, cupping her breasts, suckling her until she gasped.

  “Callie,” he said hoarsely. “Look at me.”

  She obeyed, and her beautiful eyes shimmered with tears as she watched him move down her body, pulling her panties down her legs. Still fully dressed in his black suit, he kissed her naked body. Up her calves. Her inner thighs. He paused at the crux of her thighs, letting the warmth of his breath curl between her legs, inhaling the tantalizing scent of her.

  Pushing her thighs apart with his hands, he bent his head and tasted her, stretching her wide. She was sweet and smooth as satin. He nestled himself between her thighs and flicked the tip of his tongue against her hard, aching core. He felt her writhe beneath him, bucking her hips to escape the intensity, so he held her hips against the bed, forcing her to accept the full rough pleasure of his tongue. He stroked her, lapped her. When she was dripping wet and trembling, he pushed three fingers a single inch inside her.

  Panting for breath, she threw out her hands, gripping the soft cotton blankets as he suckled her hard pink nub, swirling his tongue in featherlight circles and pressing his fingers deeper and deeper inside her. Callie’s hands tightened on the blankets, her back arching, as if only her grip kept her from flying off the bed. He heard the long gasp of her breath, felt her body lifting from the mattress, higher, higher, felt her body grow tense and tenser still. Until she exploded.

  Her soft, wet walls contracted tightly around his fingers as she cried out, twisting her body from side to side, in a symphony of mindless, helpless pleasure. He watched her face. He’d given her that pleasure. He’d made her weep with grief. But at least he’d also made her scream with joy. As she opened her eyes, still panting for breath, her expression was almost bewildered as she looked up at him. “I love you,” she whispered.

  Cupping her face, he looked down at her. “I know.”

  She stroked his face, his hair, his neck, his jacket. He lowered her mouth to hers, and she kissed him back almost savagely. He felt her tongue, her teeth. He felt her need for him. He felt her heart. Fully dressed, he moved against her, his erection hard and throbbing against her thighs.

  A sob come low from her throat. She flung her arms around his neck, pulling him down against her with sudden desperation. Her fingers frantically attempted to pull off his tie, to unbutton his shirt. Pulling away from her, he yanked off his coat and tie. He ripped his civilized white shirt and tailored trousers and silk boxers to the cool tile floor.

  Naked, he faced her, his soul as bare as his body. Without a word, he lowered his mouth to hers, stroking her, telling her with his touch everything he could not trust himself to put into words.

  Covering her body with his own, he felt her full breasts against his chest, felt her soft, feminine curves sway against his hardness. The satin-smooth skin of her inner thighs stroked the hard length of his shaft, and her wet core tantalized his aching tip alluringly. He heard her gasp with need as she twisted her body beneath him, gripping his hips with her hands, trying to pull him closer, spreading her thighs in unconscious seduction.

  But he did not want to take her. No. Not yet. Beads of sweat covered his forehead as he held himself apart from everything he wanted most. This was the last time he would possess her, and he wanted to make it last forever. As long as she was in his arms, he would not have to face the heartbreak and grief that waited for him on the other side. He would not have to face the dark solitude without her …

  She stroked his back, her breasts plumping against his chest. He felt the sweaty heat of her skin, heard the breathless hush of her sigh. Gripping her shoulders, he closed his eyes, trying to resist. But she knew him too well. She moved beneath him, suckling his earlobe, breathing on his neck as she ran her hands on the back of his upper thigh, below his buttocks, between his legs. She stroked him—and he felt the hot, wet core of her slide against him—pulling him inside—

  With a choked gasp, he surrendered. His body took over. With a low growl, he grabbed her shoulders and plunged himself inside her in a single deep thrust. Her body tensed, then melted, parting for him, accepting him, embracing every inch of his thick length. Pulling back, he thrust again with a gasp, and again, riding her. His every muscle was taut in the exquisite precipice between agony and pleasure. Six thrusts and only the grimmest vestige of self-control kept him from exploding inside her. But he had to make it last. He had to. He could not live without her….

  Rolling onto his back, he lifted her over him, impaling her. Her thighs gripped his hips as he let her control the rhythm and speed. After months of bed play, his once-virgin secretary had become a fiery seductress. He thought having her on top would slow him down, make him last. But instead, as she pushed herself against him, he filled her harder and deeper than he ever had. Her heavy breasts swayed back and forth against his face as she rode him, going deeper with each thrust, until he closed his eyes, panting beneath the brutal onslaught of pleasure. Reaching his hands behind him, he gripped the headboard of the bed.

  Harder, deeper. And wet, so wet. As she slammed against him, her walls wrapped around him, tight, so tight, pulling him into an abyss of mindless pleasure. His eyes rolled back as he gripped her hips with his hands, his whole body shaking with the agony of need. He felt her quicken and pulse around him as she flung back her head and screamed with joy. Looking up at her, seeing her beautiful face filled with ecstasy, her eyes closed as if in prayer, he could no longer resist. With one last savage thrust he exploded inside her, riding the wave with her. His hoarse cry mingled with hers as he came and came and came, never looking away from her beautiful face.

  And Callie collapsed on top of him, clutching him to her hot, sweaty body, happiness pouring out of them both like radioactive light.

  Afterward, Eduardo held her. For the first time, he was grateful knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep beside her. He could hold her all night. He’d watch her gentle face slumber beneath the latticed moonlight. She felt so soft in his arms. So warm. So sweet. His eyelids became heavy as he held her. Closing his eyes, he kissed her temple, breathing in the vanilla and floral scent of her hair. He loved her so much he thought he could die of it. He would hold her all night long. He’d relish every hour. Every minute …

  Eduardo woke with a gasp.

  The pink light of morning poured in through the window as he realized that he’d slept beside his wife for the first time.

  In panic, he looked at her side of the bed.

  It was empty. For the first time, Callie had been the one to rise in the middle of the night. She’d been the one to leave. And as the first wave of anguish hit his body, he knew this was how he’d always known he would be.

  Alone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CALLIE sat at the kitchen table of her pa
rents’ farmhouse and looked at the papers in her shaking hands. The words seem to swim in front of her eyes.

  Divorce papers.

  “It’ll be quick and painless,” her lawyer had assured her when he’d given her the file. “I marked each place for you to sign with a yellow tab. All the tough questions were already dealt with in the prenup. You’ll share custody, switching visitation each week, and with Mr. Cruz’s extremely generous level of alimony and child support you’ll be the richest woman in Fern County.” The lawyer gave her a sudden sharp grin. “Good thing every divorce case isn’t so quick and painless, or else I’d be bankrupt.”

  Quick. Painless. Callie heard a wheel squeak as her nine-month-old daughter crossed the floor in the antique walker used by three generations of Woodville babies. Marisol giggled at the sound, and her laughter was like music. Callie smiled at her daughter through her tears.

  “Pa-pa-pa?” Marisol said hopefully.

  Callie’s smile faded as she looked down at the papers. “Soon, sweetheart,” she said over the lump in her throat. “You’ll see him tomorrow.” Marisol would be flown back to New York for a week with Eduardo, and Callie would have to endure seven long, aching days without her child. Then the next week, they would switch, and it was Eduardo who would be alone.

  He’d been fair. More than fair, allowing Callie to live at such a distance, using his private jet to shuttle Marisol between North Dakota and New York. Callie had no idea what they’d do when it was time for Marisol to start school, but something would surely be worked out. Money, it seemed, could solve any problem.

  Except this.

  Callie didn’t want his money. She wanted him. She was still in love with him.

  But he’d let her go.

  She hadn’t seen Eduardo for two months, since she’d left Marrakech with her baby, Brandon and her family. Since then, their only point of contact had been through their lawyers. Even Marisol’s pickups and drop-offs each week were handled by Mrs. McAuliffe.

  Callie hadn’t seen him. But each night, she dreamed of him, of their last night together, when they’d kissed in the shadows by the fountain. When they’d made love so passionately and desperately the bed seemed to explode into fire. When he’d huskily spoken the words she still, against her will, held to her heart.