Vows Made in Secret. Louise Fuller
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my flaws. They were yours!’ he ground out between gritted teeth. ‘You were just too weak and snobbish—’
‘I was not weak and snobbish.’ The injustice of his words melted her shock and suddenly she was coldly furious. ‘I just didn’t want to pretend any more.’
‘Pretend what? That you loved me?’ His face was blunt, angular with hostility.
Liquid misery trickled through her. ‘That we had anything in common.’
He shook his head. ‘Like loyalty, you mean? Maybe you’re right. We certainly felt differently about that!’
‘You don’t need to tell me about the differences between us,’ she snapped, stung into speech by the censure in his voice. ‘I know all about them. They’re why our relationship didn’t work. Why it could never have worked.’
Her throat tightened as he looked at her coldly.
‘Our relationship didn’t fail because we were different. It failed because you cared more about those differences than you did about me,’ he snarled. ‘Tell me, pireni, how are you finding my communication skills now? Am I making myself clear enough?’
Her heart gave a sudden jerk as abruptly he turned and walked towards the fireplace.
For a moment she stood frozen, gazing speechlessly at his back. Anger was building inside her, displacing all other feeling, and suddenly she crossed the room and yanked him round to face her.
‘That’s not true! I did care—’ She broke off. Rage, hot and unstoppable, choked her words. ‘Don’t you dare try and tell me what I felt.’ She set her jaw, her eyes narrowing. ‘If I cared about the differences between us it was because, yes, I thought they mattered. Unlike you, I like to talk about the things that matter to me. And, crazy though this may sound, I try and tell the truth. But what would you know about that? The truth is like a foreign language to you.’
She watched his eyes darken with fury, the pupils seeming almost to engulf the golden irises.
‘The truth?’ he said savagely. ‘You left me because you thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That’s the truth. You’re just too much of a coward to admit it.’
Silently, Prudence shook her head. Not only because she was disagreeing with him but because she was too angry to speak. She hadn’t even known she could feel that angry.
Finally, she found her voice. ‘How dare you talk to me about the truth when we’re standing here in this castle? Your castle. A castle I didn’t even know existed until today.’ Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘And just because I wanted to talk about the leaks in the trailer and the fact that we didn’t have enough money to buy food for more than a couple of days didn’t mean I thought you weren’t good enough!’
‘Those things shouldn’t have mattered. They didn’t matter to me,’ Laszlo snarled.
‘I know!’ she snarled back at him. ‘But they did to me. And you can’t punish me for that fact. Or for the fact that it worried me: how we felt differently about things. We disagreed about stuff and that was going to be a problem for us sooner or later, only you wouldn’t admit it,’ she raged at him. ‘So it wasn’t me who was a coward. It was you.’
She took a sudden step backwards as he moved towards her; his face was in shadow but the fury beneath his skin was luminous.
‘I am not the coward here, Prudence,’ he said quietly, and his dispassionate tone was frighteningly at odds with the menacing gleam in his eyes.
Prudence felt her insides lurch. Beneath the chill of his gaze her courage and powers of speech wilted momentarily and she felt suddenly defeated. Suddenly she didn’t want to talk any more. What was the point? Judging by the last twenty minutes it would only hurt more than it healed.
When at last she spoke, her voice was defeated. ‘This is going nowhere,’ she said wearily. ‘I know you’re angry. We both are. But can’t we just put our past behind us? At least until after the cataloguing is complete?’
Laszlo stared at her, his eyes glittering with fury. ‘The cataloguing? Do you know what my grandfather’s collection means to him? Or why he decided to have it catalogued?’ He shook his head. ‘After everything that’s happened between us, do you really think I’d trust you, of all people—?’ He broke off and breathed out unsteadily.
Prudence felt a stab of fear. What was he trying to say? ‘But you can,’ she said shakily. ‘I’ll do a good job. You have my word.’
He winced as though she had ripped a plaster from a scab. ‘Your word?’ he repeated. He tilted his head. ‘Your word...’ he said again.
And this time the contempt on his face felt like a hammer blow. Her mouth had gone dry.
‘I—I only meant—’ she stammered, but he cut across her words with a voice like a flick knife.
‘It doesn’t matter what you meant. We both know that your word is worthless.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Balling his fists, feeling sick to his stomach, Laszlo shook his head. He felt an odd rushing sensation in his head, like a sort of vertigo, and words and memories hurtled past him like debris from an explosion. What kind of woman was she? He had long known her to be snobbish and weak-minded, but this—this refusal to acknowledge what she’d done—
His jaw tightened.
‘I honoured you with a gift. The most important gift a man can give to a woman. I made you my wife and you threw it in my face.’
Prudence gaped at him, shock washing over in waves. She opened her mouth to deny his claim but the words clogged her throat. His wife? Surely he didn’t really think that they were actually married? Her heart was pounding; the palms of her hands felt suddenly damp. Married? That was ridiculous! Insane!
Dazedly she thought back to that day when she’d been led, giggling and blindfolded, to his great-uncle’s trailer. Laszlo had been waiting for her. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the memory, for he’d looked heartbreakingly handsome and so serious she had wanted to cry. They’d sworn their love and commitment to one another, and his great-uncle had spoken some words in Romany, and then they had eaten some bread and some salt.
Coming out of her reverie, she stared hard at him wordlessly. There had been no actual marriage. It had been no more real than his love for her. But it had been part of the fantasy of their love. And now he was destroying that fantasy. Taking the memory of something beautiful, innocent and spontaneous and turning it into a means of hurting her.
Her vision blurred and she felt suddenly giddy, as though she were teetering on the edge of a cliff-face. ‘You’re despicable! Why are you doing this? Why are you trying to ruin that day?’
‘Ruin it?’ His features contorted with fury. ‘You’re the one who did that. By walking out on our marriage.’
Her pulse was fluttering and despite her best efforts her voice sounded high and jerky. ‘We’re not married,’ she said tightly. ‘Marriages are more than just words and kisses. This is just another of your lies—’
Her voice trailed off at the expression of derision on his face.
‘No. This is just the ultimate proof of how little you understood or respected my way of life. For you, my being Romany was just some whimsical lifestyle choice.’ He watched the blood suffuse her face and felt a spasm of pain. ‘You liked it that I was different—an outsider. But you didn’t expect or want me to stay like that. You thought I’d just throw it off, like a fancy dress costume, and become “normal” when it came to the rest of our lives.’ His eyes hardened. ‘That’s when you started whining about the mess and the moving around. But that’s what we do. It’s what I do.’
‘Except when you’re living in a castle,’