Carides's Forgotten Wife (11 page)

“We all hide,” he said. “We just do it in different ways. I should know.”

“What else do you remember?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

“We danced.”

Those two simple words opened up a torrent of feeling inside of him. They rocked him. Utterly. Completely.

It was as if the clouds had rolled away revealing an inky, clear evening filled with sparkling stars. And he could see it all clearly.

More than that. He could feel it.

He had gone to the rose garden because he knew she would be there. Because he knew that her date hadn’t arrived. And she had been there, crumpled on the bench, sobbing as though her heart was broken.

He had always seen Rose as a girl. Sweet, young. But when she lifted her head and he saw her tear-streaked face, saw the deep sadness inside of her, he saw something more.

And when he had lifted her from her seat and pulled her up against his body, leading her into a dance, he had felt something that terrified him. She was a woman. Not a girl anymore. And he could no longer play off the connection that he felt to her.

Rose. So quiet and serious. Every smile felt earned, every laugh hard-won. And he had lived to earn those things.

He had lived to make those blue eyes sparkle.

He had never wanted to make her cry. And he would bet most of his considerable fortune that he had made her cry more tears than almost anyone else on earth.

“I remember,” he said. “I remember coming here. And I held your hand, and it was so soft. And I pulled you up against me and held you close. And you were so beautiful. You were too young for me. But that didn’t stop me from wanting you.”

She gasped, pulling away from him.

“Did that ruin a nice, innocent memory? I have a way of ruining things. I think we’ve proven that.”

“Nothing is ruined for me,” she said, her tone hushed. “I wanted you, too.”

“Thank God I didn’t know. I fear I would have taken unforgivable advantage of that. I’m not a good man, Rose.”

“You are. You
are
a good man... It’s just that you’ve been hurt...”

“How do you defend me? Even now, how do you defend me? If anyone has seen absolute proof that nothing in me is good, that everything I am is deceitfully wicked, it’s you. I have been an unfaithful husband. I have been... I have not even been a husband. I was a better friend to you back then.”

She shook her head. “What do you want me to say, Leon? Do you want me to say that I think you’re terrible? That you’ve hurt me so deeply I don’t know if the wound will ever heal? Do you want me to say that I don’t know if I can ever trust you?”

“Yes. Yes, because it’s what I deserve.”

“But I don’t know if it’s true. And I won’t know, unless we try. I won’t know until time passes.”

“Time. Bloody, stupid time. I don’t have any affection for it at all. What has it given me? It has taken more from me, that’s for sure.” He laughed hollowly. “Most people grow better. If my memories are any indication I have done nothing but get much, much worse. Until I became nothing altogether.”

“That isn’t true. The memory that you’re having now? The memory of my prom night? It’s one of my favorites. Out of all of my memories. And that started out as the worst night... Someone who has the power to take a terrible moment and make it amazing... He can’t be all bad.”

“Yes, well. While you were wallowing in teenage heartbreak I was imagining pushing your dress up your thighs and burying myself inside of you. And I knew you were a virgin, Rose. I didn’t particularly care one way or the other.”

“Do you think my imagination was pure?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you.”

“I wanted to do much more than kiss you,” he ground out.

“I wouldn’t have said no.”

“I would’ve hated myself forever.”

Her father had brought him through the darkest time in his life. Another piece locked into place. Yes, her father had known about Michael. Leon had confided in him one day at the office. That was the beginning of him taking an interest in Leon.

And he had been the most important person in Leon’s world. Rose was a close second. He’d met her when she was a child, and she had delighted him immediately. Realizing she was a woman had been a problem. That night after her prom, he had gone and found a woman at a bar and exercised his sexual frustration with her. Random hookups to keep himself from making any move toward his mentor’s innocent daughter.

Because the simple fact was, there was nothing he could offer Rose. She would want love. She would want a husband who could care for her as a husband should. She would want children. He wanted none of those things. He had tried for a family as a young man, and had lost too greatly to ever consider it again.

Rose was so new. So completely untainted by the world that he didn’t want to touch her with any of his darkness.

And so he had resisted any pull to her. Any attraction to her. He had buried himself in other women. In alcohol. In all of the usual vices that he used to help himself forget unpleasant feelings.

But one day, his mentor had called him into his office. And he had told him that he was ill. That he was dying. That there was nothing that could be done. Rose was so young; she had always been so protected. And he felt he had failed her as a father. That he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him. He had expressed deep, terrible regret to Leon. How he had held her at a distance because of the way he had grieved his wife.

And now, he would never have a real chance to make up for it. He wouldn’t be here when she needed him. He wouldn’t be here to greet any grandchildren.

He was leaving her, and he wanted to know that she would be cared for.

That was when he had asked if Leon would marry Rose.

He closed his eyes. And he was lost in a memory.

Their wedding day.

She walked down the aisle toward him, her lithe figure displayed to perfection by her designer wedding gown. He took her hand, her father formally giving her to Leon’s care.

His throat dried, his heart pounding in his chest. He had spent years denying his forbidden attraction to Rose. Years pretending it didn’t exist. And now here she was, being given to him as a wife. He could do whatever he wanted with her. He could finally give in to the fantasies. To the desires that he had always tried to keep in check.

And then it was time to kiss her. He pushed back her veil, revealing her face. Those beautiful blue eyes.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, expecting it to be simple. Expecting to maintain control. She was young and inexperienced, and he’d been with more women than he could count.

But the moment their lips touched, he’d burst into flames.

He was lost in it. In her taste. In her touch. Lost in a way he couldn’t remember ever being. And something began to swell in his chest. Something began to shift and change.

And when he had pulled away, he realized he was no freer to have Rose now than he had been before the wedding. That look on her face, that look of sheer joy. Of desire, of... Of love. He could never hope to pay back the wealth that she offered in that look. The deep, rich capacity for caring and emotion that he could see in those beautiful eyes was something he knew he would never be able to match.

And afterward, Rose had gone to their honeymoon suite. And he had not joined her.

He had gotten drunk. So drunk that there would be no chance of finding his way to her. So drunk that there would be no chance he would give in and have her in a moment of weakness.

And she had never come to him. She had never said anything.

Had never begged him to come to her bed. So he had let himself believe it was for the best. That he was making the right choice.

It wasn’t until her father had died that he had taken another woman into his bed. He had convinced himself that it was for the best. He had found a brunette. One with dark eyes that would remind him nothing of his wife. But when he had taken her, he hadn’t been able to look at her. He had used her. In addition to betraying his wife he had used the other woman.

But just as he had done with feelings, just as he had done with all finer emotions, he continued to sear his conscience until it felt nothing. Until picking up another woman was simply a matter of course, and he could no longer feel any guilt over it. Until he could convince himself that it was nothing more than a game. Until he could force the desire he felt for Rose into the background.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me?” he asked, when the torrent of memories finally stopped flowing so freely.

“What do you mean?”

“You wanted me. You wanted a real marriage. After I didn’t come to you on our wedding night why didn’t you say anything to me?”

She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “You can honestly ask me that? Remembering my prom night and the way my date stood me up? I waited for you. But you didn’t come. And I would’ve rather died than ask you why. A man should
want
to be with his wife. She shouldn’t have to beg him.”

He felt as though he was being torn in two. Regret consumed him. Threatened to overwhelm him completely. The degree to which he had wounded her cut him deeply. The realization of all he had done a destructive force inside of him.

He could say nothing. He had apologized and apologized. It felt empty. It didn’t feel enough. At every turn there was new evidence of the way he had harmed her. The ways in which he had betrayed her. He had no words. They were empty. They were fruitless. He could remember making her laugh and smile. Saying all the right things to her. But when it came right down to it he had never done the right things.

He reached up, curving his hand around the back of her head, drawing her down for a kiss. He had no words in him. But he could show her. He could show her what was inside of him.

And if it burned them both alive, he would happily be consumed in the flames.

CHAPTER TEN

H
E
REMEMBERED
.

Those were the words that echoed in Rose’s mind as she gave herself over to Leon’s kiss.

He remembered that night. And he had wanted her, too.

Somehow, in the years in between that dance and this moment here in the garden, things had taken a terrible turn. Or perhaps, the real problem was that wanting wasn’t love. At least, not for a man like Leon. And nothing less than love would ever entice a man to abandon a life of hedonism.

In many ways, that hurt worse than total indifference.

She realized then that it had been very easy to imagine that the real issue was that he felt no attraction for her. As painful as that was, she had imagined that one day she could perhaps make him see her as a woman. That all she had to do was change his feelings and he would look away from other women and turn to her forever.

Now she was faced with the simple truth that he had been attracted to her. It just hadn’t been strong enough. He had been attracted to her, and he had resisted her.

It made her ache inside. It made her feel hollow.

But at the same time she wanted to lose herself in this kiss. In this moment. What did it matter what had come before? What did it matter what came after? If she could go back in time to when she was eighteen, sitting here crying, desolate over being abandoned by her date, and grab even one scrap of courage to take hold of what she wanted—to take hold of Leon—she would do it.

She had lived so quietly. So timidly.

She had not gone to him on their wedding night and begged for him because she’d been so afraid of rejection. Because she’d been afraid to face the truth outright, and had preferred instead to cling to hope, no matter how small and hazy it might be.

Where was her reward?

She didn’t want to live that way anymore. She wanted to mess up her hair, mess up Leon’s suit. She wanted to scream. She wanted to take everything that was on offer and please only herself.

She wanted to change him inside. To affect the kind of landslide that he had triggered inside of her years ago. To leave him altered, to leave him completely and utterly changed for having touched her.

She didn’t know if there was anyone in the entire world that was true of. If she had done a single thing to change anyone at all. She was pale, kind of hanging in the background and committed to being inoffensive. Doing her best to keep her head down, doing her best not to be tormented by her peers. Doing her best not to unsettle her father in any way, or cause him any grief.

She was afraid that if she was too loud, if she laughed too much, she would make him sadder. That she would only make him miss her mother that much more.

And the one time she had tried to step outside of that, the one time she had accepted a date at school, it had all blown up in her face.

So she had gone back into hiding. But it had done her no earthly good. She had gone back into hiding, putting her head down, hoping that someday she could convince Leon to care for her, too.

But why would anyone care for a pale little crustacean hiding inside a shell? One that didn’t even act like it wanted to see the sun.

But she did now. She wanted to have the warmth of it bathe her bare skin. Here and now out in the garden she wanted the sun to touch her skin; she wanted Leon to touch her skin. And who cared about the consequences?

She had nothing to lose. She had given him her heart years ago and had never gotten it back. She had already been broken by him, broken into tiny pieces so many times it was a miracle she hadn’t been blown away by the breeze.

She wouldn’t be. She resolved that then and there.

She would become more. She would be filled. With her own desires. With him. She would be too substantial to blow away. Too substantial for anyone to ignore.

She kissed him back. And like every kiss that had come before it, there was nothing simple to it. It tasted of years of longing, of missed opportunity, of grief and pain. But there was hope, too. Hope for more. Hope for absolutely everything, because the alternative was to exist in silence.

She unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders, baring his chiseled body to her gaze. She placed her fingertips at the center of his chest, moving her hand over his heated skin.

“Nothing is ever as good as you think it’s going to be,” she said, her throat tightening as she skimmed her touch down over his abs. “Fantasy is limitless. It’s also painless. You direct everything. You control all of the movements. Your very own composition.” She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. “Reality doesn’t have a place in it. It’s like walking in the stars. Knowing that you can’t fall back down to the earth.”

A rough growl rumbled in his chest. “You make it sound beautiful.”

“It’s been most of my life. Safe and secure, dreams without consequences.” She pressed against the firm heat of his skin. “You never sweat. You never get dirty. You never get injured.” She leaned in, pressing her lips to his angular jaw. “And you never reach the heavens. Why walk in the stars when you can go so much higher?”

“Because you might fall,” he responded.

She nodded. “I might. We both might. I don’t care anymore.”

She tilted her head, claiming his lips with hers. It was as reckless, as intense as she was. She vibrated with it. Her need, her desire, coursing along her veins. She raised her hands, grabbing hold of his face, holding him to her as she attempted to quench the thirst that only he could satisfy.

She let her hands drift down to his belt buckle, and that was when she found the control wrenched away from her completely. He growled, reached down and gathering fistfuls of her dress, pushing it up over her hips before tugging it up over her head.

That left her in nothing more than a lace bra and wispy panties, outside in the waning light. She never would have imagined she might do something like this. Ever.

But Leon made her crazy. And she didn’t really mind.

She was full with her feelings for him. With her need. Desperate for release.

“Fall with me,” she said.

“It might hurt.”

She leaned in, pressing her lips to his. “Then we’ll be bruised together.”

“My main concern is breaking you.”

“I think we’re already both a little broken.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, splaying her hands over his back. “Maybe that’s why we fit so well.”

“Just a couple of jagged pieces.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “Except I fear I’m the one who broke you.”

She fought against the dry, stinging press of tears putting pressure on the backs of her eyes. Denying this would be easy. Absolving him would be. She wanted to. For his conscience, if for no other reason. But he had broken her. Or at least, he had broken her heart. More times than she could count.

“I think I needed to be broken,” she said finally. “So that I would finally start fighting.”

She nipped his bottom lip, an echo of what she had done the last time they were together. When they had fought, and they had made love, and she had cried. That day she had been completely broken in her bedroom. Destroyed as she faced the realization that her husband had betrayed her.

Destroyed as she realized she didn’t possess the capacity to be eternally patient. That perhaps she couldn’t be eternally forgiving. That, perhaps, in light of that she and Leon couldn’t make a future together.

But now she felt like it might be different. Now they were out here in the sunlight together. And it really did feel new. Not because the past was a blank slate. Not because they were starting over. But because they were walking forward.

Because the secret things had been dragged out into the light, and while some of them had proved to be monsters, now that she could see them, she could see how to fight them. Now that she had decided she would stand up and fight.

“You’re going to fight me?” he asked, grabbing hold of her hair, tugging her head back so that she was forced to meet his gaze.

“I don’t think I could win. In terms of brute strength I’m most definitely outmatched.” She fought against his hold, not minding the little pinpricks of pain that dotted her scalp as she did. She pressed her lips to his chest, scraping his nipple with her teeth.

He jerked beneath her touch, growling like a feral beast. Appealing to the wild thing in her. “You plan to use other weapons then?”

She looked up at him, and she smiled. She felt powerful. More powerful than she ever had in all her life. She felt his muscles shift beneath her touch and she scraped her fingernails across his abs, scoring his skin lightly.

His expression was that of a man carved from stone, his entire body gone rigid beneath her touch. Suddenly, she was overcome with a desire to taste him. With the need for it.

She leaned in, tracing a line down the center of his abs, tasting salt and skin and Leon. She was starving for him. She didn’t know how she would ever get enough.

She had been with him when he didn’t have memories of who she was. She had been with him when she was angry. But this was different. This was different in every way.

This time, when she put her hands on his belt buckle, he didn’t pull them away. This time he let her undo his belt, let her pull the zipper on his pants down, exposing himself to her. The breath rushed out of her lungs, desire replacing it.

She leaned in, flicking her tongue over the head of his arousal. He stiffened, grabbing hold of her hair again, pulling her away from him. “Don’t,” he said, his words hard.

“Why not?”

“I don’t deserve that.”

“Life isn’t about what we deserve. Sometimes it’s just about what people want to give. Or don’t. You were never my reward, Leon. And I’m not yours. This isn’t a reward. But it’s what I want. I want to taste you. I want to be filled with you. Let me.”

She took him deep into her mouth then, his harsh groan of pleasure washing over her as she slid her tongue down his length.

He clung tightly to her as she continued to pleasure him. As she gratified herself. Because she made him shake. Because he wanted this. Because he wanted her. Because there was a time when he had not wanted her enough to take her, when he had been able to resist.

But that time wasn’t now.

She tasted him until his thighs began to tremble, until his whole body was shaking with pleasure. And then, just as he was about to lose control completely, he pulled her away. He stripped her of the rest of her clothes and laid her down in the grass, the sun washing over her skin.

He kissed her deep, hard, kissed her as he thrust deep inside her, joining his body to hers. There was a rock just beneath her shoulder blade, and it dug into her skin. She knew it would leave a mark. But it was perfect in a way. Because this wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t clean. It would leave a mark deep down in her soul, and she felt like her skin should bear the evidence of it, too.

She wrapped her legs around his lean hips, urging him to go deeper, to go harder.

His each and every thrust sent a shock of pleasure through her, and she refused to remain silent about it. She encouraged him, told him just how much she wanted him. Just how good he was.

She gasped as her climax washed over her, shuddering out her pleasure as it consumed her completely.

And as she lay there with him, naked, unashamed, exposed in the sunlight, she knew she could never go back to the way things had been. She knew she could never go back to being invisible.

Right here in this place where her love for him had been cemented, she’d found something new. Love for herself. A need to have more than a quiet, nonconfrontational existence.

Even the way she was planning to leave him had been too easy. Because even leaving him possessed no risk. Kept her hidden.

Kept her from revealing just how much she cared for him.

But here and now it was all laid out in the open. And she wasn’t ashamed.

He rolled over, cupping her cheek. “It’s time for dinner. That is actually why I came to find you,” he said, his voice gruff.

“I guess we had dessert first,” she said.

He laughed. Genuine. Real. Balm for her soul. “I guess we did.” He pulled her close, his hands drifting over her curves, his touch hotter than the sun. “We should probably go in.”

“I don’t want to,” she said. “I want to run away into the mountains. And then we won’t have to do anything. It won’t matter what you remember, or what the papers say. You can grow a beard and chop wood.”

“Would you like me to grow a beard and chop wood? I could. But I don’t think we should move to the mountains.”

“Why not?” she asked, pretending to sound tragic.

“Because our home is here. Our family is here.”

His words tapped into a well of longing that expanded in her chest. Deep. Intense. So very needy it stole her breath. “You’re right,” she said. “It is.”

“I take it you want to...try?”

She knew what he meant. To try for a marriage. To try and be a real family. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, Leon. I do.”

This vow was deeper than those she’d spoken at their wedding. Because then, she hadn’t known all they would face. Hadn’t known how he might hurt her. How he would heal her. Then, she hadn’t truly known how deeply she could care. She hadn’t known how much it might cost.

But it was the cost that made it valuable. It was the cost that made her
yes
matter.

When they walked back into the house, it was the first time it felt like theirs. And it was the first time she truly felt like Leon’s wife.

* * *

Leon’s memory continued to improve over the course of the next few weeks. Filling in gaps that had previously been vacant. And it was a good thing, too. Because it was time for him to get back to work. He could no longer leave his company unattended and expect that it would thrive. He was in the business of investments, and he knew well just how fraught the market could be. Truly, it was a miracle that everything had been left standing in his absence.

He was beginning to do a little bit of work from home, and he hadn’t destroyed anything. Now that he was certain he wouldn’t break things simply by touching them, he was beginning to feel a similar level of confidence in his dealings with Rose. Though he was slightly less confident on that score. She was so beautiful. Fragile, and easily bruised much like her namesake. He wanted no part in harming her in any way.