A Husband's Regret (The Unwanted Series) (9 page)

“I have a couple of questions,” he murmured, and she bit her lip before nodding. “How long were you at the beach house?” Whatever she had expected, that certainly wasn’t it. She blinked a couple of times before shrugging.

“A couple of weeks,” she managed softly.

“So, if your story is to be believed . . .”

She resisted the overwhelming urge to reach over and slap him for the blatant sarcasm in his voice.

“. . . You went there directly after leaving here, to
wait
for me, right?”

“Why don’t we just agree to let this matter go?” she asked, not in the mood to defend herself against any more of his crazy accusations.

“No.” He shrugged her request aside nonchalantly. “So, how is it that you never once heard about my accident? Apparently it was in all the papers and had news coverage on radio, television, and the Internet. Are you telling me you missed all of that?”

“Do really think that I spent my days watching the telly and listening to music?” she asked in exasperation. “I could barely drag myself out of bed and into the shower most days. I was ill from the morning sickness, exhausted, scared, and every day that passed without word from you sent me deeper into depressed isolation. So yes, I’m telling you I
missed all of that
!”

His eyes flickered and she thought she caught a glimmer of uncertainty in them before they went icy with disdain again. She shook her head.

“When are Rick and Lisa due back from their holiday?”

“Saturday,” he replied shortly before continuing on with the original conversation. “So after it became painfully self-evident that I would
not
be coming for you, what did you do then?” Not caring for the mockery in his eyes and voice and fed up with his determination to disbelieve every little thing she said, Bronwyn got up shakily and rounded the table, reaching out possessively to take her daughter from his arms.

“I’ll put her to bed,” she told him without meeting his eyes.

“Your story is full of holes, Bronwyn, you know that,” he murmured almost gently. “I’d be willing to move on if you’d only admit to being at the scene of my accident.” She lifted blazingly furious eyes to his.

“It would be so terribly convenient for you if I admitted to that, wouldn’t it, Bryce?” she asked angrily. “That way you wouldn’t have to feel any guilt about driving your pregnant wife out into the streets. No guilt about leaving her to fend for herself while she was so ill she was terrified she would lose your baby. You wouldn’t have to be accountable for anything that has happened since the night I left. Well, you can go to
hell
because I refuse to give you that satisfaction.”

Bronwyn turned away angrily and carried Kayla back into the house. She headed straight for the baby’s room and after tucking her in, stood beside the cot and watched the baby sleep, her heart absolutely overflowing with love for the innocent child.

“You’re worth everything, my darling,” she whispered, leaning over to kiss her short, silky curls. When she straightened up and turned around, Bryce was standing in the doorway, still wearing nothing but his board shorts. She frowned resentfully, annoyed that a deaf man could move so silently, and moved to pass him. He barely shifted, crowding her abominably as she tried to squeeze through the doorway and into the hall. She flushed crimson when she inadvertently brushed against his muscular naked chest. She frowned up at him, making sure he was looking at her before she spoke.

“Get out of my way,” she demanded, and he grinned lazily.

“Glad to see you’re getting your fire back, babe . . .”

“
Don’t
call me that,” she reprimanded, and he grinned.

“You never complained before.” She went an even brighter red as she recalled the very rare instances during which he had used the endearment in the past—
always
in the most intimate of circumstances and very rarely outside of bed. He had used it now just to rattle her—she could see it in his eyes. She pursed her lips and pushed her way past him. He grabbed her wrist, just as she thought she’d managed to escape.

“Pierre and Alice are coming around for dinner,” he informed her idly, ignoring the way she tugged furiously, trying to get loose. “Try not to embarrass me with any more lies or insincere shows of concern while they’re here.” She gasped at the sharp stab of pain at his casual cruelty.

“Bryce, I’m really starting to
hate
you,” she stated conversationally, and he raised his brows lazily.

“
Are
you?” He smiled. “That’s a shame. I did so enjoy being worshipped by you.”

“I never worshipped you, you arrogant bastard!” she managed furiously. “I
loved
you. More than you could ever comprehend.” His grip slackened and she tugged herself free. “I now see that you never deserved that love!” He seemed unable to respond, merely keeping his level gaze on her emotional face. She made a despairing little sound in the back of her throat and turned to walk away.

“Bronwyn,” he called after her, and she stopped, her back going rigid as she braced herself for another blow. “If you loved me you would never have left me.”

“I didn’t leave you, you jackass,” she muttered beneath her breath, knowing that he could not see the denial while she stood with her back to him.

“You would never have driven off without giving me the chance to apologize . . .” His voice was closer, and she knew that he had come up right behind her. “You would have stayed to hear me grovel and beg your forgiveness, because if you
loved
me, you would have known me well enough to appreciate that an apology would not be far off.” His hands came to rest on her narrow shoulders, and she flinched as she felt the warmth of his flesh through the thin cotton of her T-shirt. She turned around slowly and lifted her eyes to meet his.

“I
knew
that,” she admitted. “I left to give you some space to clear your head and to give myself time to gather my own confused thoughts. I knew you’d come and that’s the reason I waited and waited and
waited
at that damned beach house! I knew you would come . . . only you never did.

“When I eventually concluded that maybe you really wanted nothing to do with us, I called your office to talk about child support and was quite bluntly informed that—Mr. Palmer did not want to speak to me or hear from me ever again—You weren’t answering your cell phone, and nobody was answering at the house.” She watched as his eyes hardened and his hands fell away.

“My God, can’t you ever stop lying?” he muttered in frustration. “I could buy into
maybe
being mistaken about seeing you at the scene of my accident. I can even try to believe that maybe you hadn’t seen a single newspaper article, television report, or heard any radio news, but none of my people would
ever
have said those words to you!”

“Oh, believe what you want, Bryce,” she responded wearily and turned away. She was so sick of defending herself to him.

“Oh no you don’t.” He caught her arm in a bruising grip to prevent her from walking away. “I spent
two
years looking for you, Bronwyn. Why would I have told my staff to stonewall you when I was trying so hard to find you? So you are not going to try to make me feel guilty about something that I never authorized, something that would never have happened, not in a million years!” She shook her head and stepped back, jerking her arm violently out of his tight grip before deciding to make use of some of the SASL that she had learned and using her hands rather eloquently to say something
quite
unmistakable. For a second he was taken aback, and he blinked a couple of times before bursting into laughter, the sound so natural and spontaneous that it took her completely by surprise.

“You didn’t just tell me to . . .” He trailed off before saying the obscenity, and she jutted her jaw stubbornly, refusing to be charmed by his genuine amusement.

“So what if I did?” she asked defiantly. His eyes were still brimming with laughter as he shrugged.

“Nothing, I’m just impressed with your extensive knowledge of SASL.” He shrugged and she went bright red.

“Not that extensive,” she told him self-consciously. “It was the first thing I learned because I knew that it would probably come in handy in most of my dealings with you.”

“Good call,” he complimented, and she cleared her throat before moving away from him without another word and retreating to her bedroom.

CHAPTER SIX

A
lice De Coursey was not all what Bronwyn had been expecting. The woman was a couple of years older than Bronwyn, about thirty, and so tiny that she made Bronwyn feel like a giant by comparison. She could not have been more than five feet tall and had a small, perfectly proportioned body. She had soft brown eyes shielded by silly, little round glasses and she was almost pretty in a wholesome way, with freckles splattered across her nose and an endearingly mischievous grin. Her shoulder-length, uncontrollably frizzy, sandybrown corkscrew curls gave her a kind of Raggedy-Ann appeal. She was certainly
not
the drop-dead-gorgeous woman Bronwyn had expected a beautiful individual like Pierre De Coursey to fall for. She walked with a slight limp and still had faint scars on her upper arms and a slightly longer, more pronounced one on her round, firm jaw.

Her intimidatingly gorgeous husband doted on her. In fact every time Pierre looked at her, his eyes positively glowed with love. He lit up when she smiled and beamed whenever she laughed. It was a revelation for Bronwyn to see the previously austere Pierre so transparently in love. The man who had terrified her when she’d first met him now laughed freely, told silly jokes, and changed
nappies
! Their baby boy, Tristan, was about five months old and had a sweet, placid temperament. He had his father’s pitch-black hair and his mum’s large brown eyes. Kayla was quite excited to see the baby and meet new people, but she fell asleep half an hour after the couple’s arrival.

“She’s such a beautiful little girl,” Alice was telling Bronwyn after the latter had put Kayla to bed. “Such a little livewire . . .” Bronwyn laughed.

“That’s a polite way of phrasing it,” she told the woman. “She’s hell on wheels. When she started toddling, she was an unstoppable force. You wait until Tristan gets to that age; you’ll be running yourself ragged. I’m just happy we managed to get her off to bed with so little fuss tonight.”

Alice laughed and Bronwyn smiled, really liking the other woman. She had feared that Alice De Coursey would be an unbearable snob, the way Pierre sometimes tended to be, but not only was she
not
a snob, she had somehow managed to destarch Pierre in many ways. The man was definitely a lot more relaxed and a great deal more pleasant to spend time with. He was fluent in SASL, and he and Bryce were engaged in what looked like a serious conversation. Alice followed her eyes and smiled. She leaned conspiratorially close to Bronwyn.

“Pierre was
very
relieved when he heard you were back.”

Bronwyn frowned, that came as a surprise to her; she had always believed that Pierre did not care much for her. In fact he had barely spoken to her after arriving for dinner, leading Bronwyn to assume that he had heard the same story about her as Rick. “From what I understand, Bryce became something of a recluse after you left. He hardly ever leaves the house; he works from home, never goes into the office, and leaves it to Pierre to run the more social end of the business.” Bronwyn bit her lip and watched as her husband laughed at something Pierre said, the joke silent and just between the two of them.

“Where did Pierre learn to sign?” she asked quietly, admiring the fluent, graceful gestures of Pierre’s hands.

“He used to drive me to my physiotherapy sessions after I had recovered from the accident enough to start strengthening my weak leg, and they happened to have SASL classes at the same clinic, which fortunately coincided with my visits. Pierre saw it as an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.”

“I would like to learn,” Bronwyn confided softly. “Could you give me the address of this place?”

Alice smiled. “Of course.” She nodded. “I’ll even go with you if you’d like.”

Bronwyn smiled gratefully before nodding. “I’d really like that.”

“Did you enjoy your evening?” Bryce asked in an indulgent voice that grated on Bronwyn’s nerves, after the other couple’s departure. They were standing on the front step watching the taillights on the De Coursey car grow more distant as it made its way down the steep, winding drive leading from the Palmer home back down to the main road.

“Yes.” She replied abruptly. “Alice is fantastic. I really like her.”

“I knew you would,” he confirmed, still looking and sounding like an indulgent father. For some reason Bronwyn felt like slapping the self-satisfied smirk off his face. Did he have to look so damned
smug
?

“Yes of course.” She looked straight up at him, her eyes gleaming angrily. “And, as we all know by now; you’re always right.” He couldn’t hear the venom in her voice, but he could certainly see it in her eyes and he took the tiniest step back.

“What the hell is wrong now?” he growled furiously.

“Nothing,” she hissed. “I’m tired . . . I’m going to bed.”

“Oh come on,” he fumed. “You’re not going to do this to me. You’re not going to play this game.”

“I’m
not
playing any games. I’m too tired for games.” She turned away and headed back indoors. He followed her inside and caught her elbow to halt her progress. She tried to tug her arm away, but his grip, while gentle, was unrelenting.

“What’s going on?” he asked on a whisper. “Did Alice or Pierre do or say something to offend you?”

“No,” she shook her head abruptly. “No, of course not.”

“So then it’s me?” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Is it ever anyone else?” she muttered snidely beneath her breath, but he couldn’t read her lips because she ducked her head as she said it. She tried to wriggle her arm and glared up at him when he wouldn’t release her.

“You’re hurting me!” she stated as clearly as she could, and he let her go abruptly.

“I’m sorry.” His immediate release and apology took her by surprise, and she felt a little guilty when she saw a flare of genuine remorse in his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” she admitted. “But I’m tired and I have nothing more to say to you tonight.”

“You think you can dismiss me and expect me to obey like a whipped dog?” he sneered, taking hold of her elbow again and giving her a gentle shake to emphasize his point.

“No, I expect you to respect my wishes,” she told him tiredly, all of the fight leaving her. Her arm hung limply in his grip. He sighed and took hold of her other elbow before running his hands caressingly up her arms.

“Tell me why you’re angry with me,” he coaxed, and his large hands moved up to cup her narrow face gently. His thumbs traced the outline of her trembling lips, and he leaned toward her, his lips almost touching hers.

“I want to be with you again tonight,” he whispered hoarsely, and she flinched.

“No.” She shook her head firmly. He frowned and stepped back, releasing her abruptly.

“Why not?” he asked coldly.

“How can you even ask me that? I told you, last night was a mistake. And do you really think I want to get back into bed with the man who said I made his skin crawl?” she asked.

“Look, I was an ass when I said that, okay?” he admitted, throwing up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. It was a blatant lie expressly designed to hurt you as much as possible. It was that or admit that you were right about me wanting you the other day.” She continued to stare stonily up at him, knowing that he was repudiating his words now because he wanted her back in his bed.

“I won’t beg,” he warned.

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” she muttered, and he frowned uncertainly.

“What?” When she refused to repeat the words he hadn’t caught, he swore angrily and turned away from her. “I hate this! I want to know your every word. I want to hear my daughter’s laughter. I want so many things.” She softened a little at the helpless frustration in his voice and took a step toward him. She rested a tentative hand on his rigid shoulder and stepped around to face him. He shrugged off her hand and glared at her.

“
Don’t
,” he warned dangerously, and her brow lowered in confusion.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t you dare pity me.” His voice was as hard as granite, belying the vulnerability she had heard just seconds before. “I don’t want or need your pity!”

“Trust me, the last thing I feel for you is pity,” she told him, but he must have missed the words because his confused frown deepened before he swore in irritation.

“Just go to bed, Bron,” he muttered tiredly as he brushed by her. Bronwyn watched his broad back as he retreated. He turned a corner and she heard a door slamming in the distance as he shut himself into his study.

Bronwyn stood there for the longest time, valiantly fighting back her tears of frustration. She did not know this bruised, battered, and embittered man as the Bryce she had adored and married within weeks of meeting him, but there was still something so compelling about him. He reminded her of a badly wounded lion, confused and exhausted but unable to stop fighting.

She swallowed down the incredible pain of realization, recognition, and resignation. God help her, she still loved Bryce. She had always loved Bryce. She loved him, hated him, and resented him all at the same time. Yet the only other certainty she had in life besides Kayla’s love was the knowledge that Bryce hated her more than she had ever thought possible, and she did not know how she was going to shield her vulnerable heart from the agony that he was so very capable of inflicting on her.

“Where are you going?” Bryce did nothing to hide the deep suspicion in his eyes late the following morning as he took in Bronwyn’s attire. They were in the living room, where Bryce had been glaring down at his laptop screen before she’d distracted him with her presence. She was wearing a pair of designer black slacks, one of the pieces that she had left behind, combined with a pretty silk turquoise top. Despite the fact that the clothes were still a little baggy on her, Bronwyn thought the combination looked charming. Especially with her dark hair falling in lustrous waves to her narrow shoulders and her lips tinted with shell-pink lipstick. She had even taken on a healthy, light-golden sheen after spending some time out in the sun the day before. For the first time in a long while she was relatively happy with the way she looked.

“Out to lunch, with Alice,” she informed casually, taking a seat opposite his. “Will you be okay with Kayla? She’s in the kitchen with Celeste at the moment. They’re baking a cake.”

“Of course I’ll be okay with Kayla,” he dismissed before continuing. “When was this lunch thing decided?” he asked highhandedly, and she laughed at the autocratic question.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but this was
decided
after dinner last night.”

He frowned, missing her sarcasm.

“I don’t remember you making this arrangement,” he said, clearly trying to recall the evening before.

“Well you and Pierre were having your little powwow.” She shrugged lightly. “What did you expect Alice and I to do? Sit around quietly and wait for our husbands to rejoin us? We talked, hit it off, and befriended each other. This is what friends
do
. We get together, have lunch, and go shopping . . .”

“You’re not well enough to venture out yet,” he said authoritatively. “Alice can come around here for lunch. I’ll SMS Pierre immediately and arrange it.” He whipped his mobile phone out of his jeans pocket, and Bronwyn stayed his hand by placing her smaller one over it.

“No.” She shook her head decisively, and he frowned.

“But . . .”

“I’m meeting Alice for lunch,” she reiterated.

“I don’t like it.”

“Well that’s just too bad, isn’t it?” She was getting annoyed with his arrogance and her glare told him so.

“How are you getting there?” She frowned and lifted the set of car keys she was holding.

“I’m taking the Jeep,” she responded. The Jeep was one of the five cars he owned. Bronwyn had never seen the sense in anyone having more than one car, but Bryce loved his cars. She had already noted that his beloved metallic blue Maserati was gone, and she guessed that it must have been the one he’d been driving when he had his accident.

“I didn’t give you permission to use the Jeep,” he retaliated smugly, and she bit her lip.