Rising Stars & It Started With… Collections. Кейт Хьюит
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stand it if anything happened to her.
At the bottom of the hill, the path abruptly ended in sand. He stood, looking in both directions, his ears straining to hear anything over the sound of the sea caressing the shore. A flash of something caught his eye and he took off in that direction.
He was only a few feet away when he heard singing, and he crashed to a halt. Relief flooded him as she turned her head, the moonlight catching her blond hair.
“Veronica,” he said, and the singing stopped.
“I couldn’t sleep.” She turned to face him, her pale arms wrapped around her chest. “How about you?”
He wanted to laugh in agreement, and he wanted to snatch her into his arms and hold her tight. “You’re still in your evening gown,” he said, noticing with a jolt the way her creamy thigh split through the fabric as she took a step forward. Her feet were bare, her legs so long and perfect. He could still feel them wrapped around his waist, could feel how they’d trembled and stiffened when he’d brought her to orgasm.
He wanted that again.
“It doesn’t matter,” she said.
“I’m sorry.” It was the thing he’d wanted to say, the reason he’d gone to her room in the first place.
“For what, Raj?” Her voice sounded tremulous, as if she were trying very hard not to allow any emotion to escape.
“For everything,” he said. “For bringing you here. For making love to you—”
She laughed, the sound bitter. “Of course,” she said, “of course. Because it would be better if you had not done so, correct? I corrupted you, corrupted your squeaky-clean morals—”
“Stop it,” he said harshly. “I made love to you because I wanted to. But I shouldn’t have been so weak. I should have resisted.”
“Yes, of course.” She turned toward the sea again, but he could see the lone tear that slid down her cheek. “I’m not the sort of woman a man resists, am I? But I am the sort he regrets.”
“I don’t regret it,” he growled. But he did. He regretted that he’d been so weak in the first place, that he’d been unable to resist and that he’d hurt her in the process.
“Don’t bother explaining,” she said. “I understand.”
He reached for her, his fingers closing around her bare arm. She was delicate, like spun glass in his hand. He feared that if he held her too tightly, she’d break.
“You understand nothing,” he said, turning her to face him. He was careful not to pull her closer, though he wanted to.
“Oh, Raj,” she said, her voice carrying to him on the sea-scented breeze, “I’m not sure either one of us understand.”
“Then tell me what I need to know,” he replied. Because he very much wanted to know what made her tick. There was the baby, her loss—and yet there was more. He wanted to know everything, though a small voice told him it wasn’t a good idea.
The less he knew, the better in the end.
Her hand came up, her fingers sliding along his jaw. Her touch was like fire, like ice. She burned him, and he wanted nothing more than to keep burning.
“I’m so angry with you,” she said, “and yet I can’t help but want you, too. Why is that? Why can’t I resist you?”
Her admission sent a current of hot possessiveness through him. His body hardened. He turned his head, kissed her palm. She did not pull away. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled in the night, diamond-tipped with tears.
He had done that to her. But no matter how much he wanted her just now, he couldn’t make her cry again. Because she would. He would walk away in the end, and she would cry.
And he didn’t want that. Somehow, he had to find the strength to let her go.
Before this got any more complicated than it already was.
“I only want what’s best for you, Veronica,” he said. “If I had let you go to Aliz and something happened, I would never forgive myself.”
Her laugh was strangled. “My God, you sound just like my father.” Her hand dropped and her head tilted back. Her gaze sparkled up at him. “He kept me locked up until I was eighteen, until I was old enough to leave home and do what I wanted to do. His excuse was that he loved me. And he did, I know that. But it was horrible, Raj, horrible to be kept prisoner to someone else’s fears for so long.”
So much about her made sense now. Her wild life, her rebellion, her refusal to take a backseat while someone else steered the cart. She wanted a say because she was frightened of giving up control. He could understand that. Could empathize with it. He thought of her last night, on the plane, and felt guilty.
“This isn’t the same,” he said gently—justifying his actions, yes, but also because it was true. “There is a real threat to your safety, especially if you return to Aliz while it’s in chaos.”
She pushed a lock of hair that had blown into her face back over her shoulder. Her brows were pinched together, her eyes narrowed.
“I know that,” she said finally. “I was angry with you—I’m still angry that you didn’t consult me—but I know you did what I asked for when I accepted your help.”
“Your safety is my priority, Veronica. No matter how angry I make you, or how much you might hate me for it.”
She shook her head, looked away. “I don’t hate you. Though it might be easier if I did.” She drew in a long breath. “You kept me safe, and you did so when I was determined to put myself—and my people—in danger.”
“I’d do it again, if the circumstances were the same.”
“I know that, too.” Her head dropped as she fixed her gaze on the sand at her feet. He wanted to pull her close and kiss the top of her head, but he did not do so. He stood with arms hanging at his sides.
He felt … useless in some ways. He’d brought her here, but he hadn’t yet found who’d sent her the note or placed the doll on her bed. She was safe, but for how long? If her government was restored and she returned to Aliz, then what?
She wouldn’t need him anymore. He would never see her again, except as a photograph in a newspaper.
She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I wish I’d met you earlier, under different circumstances. Maybe neither of us would have any regrets then.”
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and lifting a strand of her hair. He loved the silken feel of it, the bright pale color. In the moonlight, it hung down her back like ropes of gossamer ribbon.
“Life is filled with regrets,” he said.
He couldn’t imagine not being able to touch her like this. He didn’t want to imagine it.
She let out a deep sigh that slashed into his control. “Oh, Raj, if we don’t learn from our mistakes, then what is the point?” He froze as she reached for him, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck while the other gripped his arm to steady herself as she stood on tiptoe.
He didn’t resist as she pulled him down to her, didn’t resist as her lips brushed his. He didn’t close his eyes because he wanted to see her face while she kissed him. Her lashes dipped down, fanning long and silky beneath her eyes as her mouth skimmed across his.
The pressure was light, so light. Unbearable. He wanted to crush her to him, wanted to slide his tongue between her lips and feel her response.
“It’s too late,” she whispered against his mouth a moment later. “As you’ve pointed out more than once, you aren’t the right man.”
She took a step backward, breaking the contact, and then turned and started down the beach. He watched her as she