Her Exquisite Surrender. Lucy Ellis
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death was a topic no one mentioned. It was as if he had never existed. None of his toys or clothes were at the family mansion. Her father had forced her mother to remove them as soon as Lachlan had been born. The photos of Liam’s infancy and toddlerhood were in an album in a cupboard that was securely locked and never opened. Natalie’s only photo of her baby brother was the one she had found in the days after his funeral, when everyone had been distraught and distracted. She had kept it hidden until she had bought her house in Edinburgh.
But for all her father’s efforts to erase the tragedy of Liam’s short life his ghost still haunted them all. Every time Natalie visited her parents—which was rare these days—she felt his presence. She saw his face in Lachlan’s. She heard him in her sleep. Every year she had night terrors as the anniversary of his death came close.
With an enormous effort she garnered her self-control, and once she was sure she had her emotions securely locked and bolted down she slowly turned and faced Angelo. ‘I’m sure you found that conversation very enlightening,’ she said.
His expression was hard to read. ‘Your father cares for you very deeply,’ he said. ‘Like all parents, he and your mother only want the best for you.’
Natalie kept her mouth straight, even though she longed to curl her lip. ‘My father obviously thinks you’re the best for me,’ she said. ‘And as for my mother—well, she wouldn’t dream of contradicting him. So it’s happy families all round, isn’t it?’
He studied her for a heartbeat, his eyes holding hers in a searching, probing manner. ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ he said. ‘My parents will have gone to a great deal of trouble over dinner. Please honour them by dressing and behaving appropriately.’
‘Contrary to what my father probably told you, I do actually know how to behave in company,’ she said to his back as he went towards the en suite bathroom.
He turned around and meshed his gaze with hers. ‘I’m on your side, cara,’ he said, with unexpected gentleness.
Her eyes stung with the sudden onset of tears. She blinked and got them back where they belonged: concealed, blocked, and stoically, strenuously denied. She gave a toss of her head and walked back to the window overlooking the gardens. But she didn’t let out her breath until she heard the click of the bathroom door indicating Angelo had gone.
Angelo was putting on some cufflinks when he heard Natalie come out of the dressing room. He turned and looked at her, his breath catching in his chest at the sight of her dressed in a classic knee length black dress and patent leather four-inch heels. Her hair was pulled back in an elegant knot at the back of her head, giving her a regal air. She was wearing diamond and pearl droplet earrings and a matching necklace. Her make-up was subtle, but it highlighted the dark blue of her eyes and the creamy texture of her skin and model-like cheekbones. Her perfume drifted towards him—a bewitching blend of the wintry bloom of lily of the valley and the hot summer fragrance of honeysuckle. A perfect summation of her complex character: ice-maiden and sultry siren.
How could someone so beautiful on the outside be capable of the things her father had said about her? It was worrying him—niggling at him like a toothache. The more time he spent with her, the more he found new aspects to her character that intrigued him.
Yes, she was wilful and defiant. Yes, she had a streak of independence. Yes, she could be incredibly stubborn.
But she clearly loved her brother and was prepared to go to extraordinary lengths to help him. How did that fit in with Adrian Armitage’s assessment of her as totally selfish and self-serving?
‘You look like you just stepped off a New York City catwalk,’ he said.
She lifted a slim shoulder dismissively. ‘This dress is three seasons old,’ she said. ‘I bought it on sale for a fraction of the cost.’
‘I like your hair like that.’
‘It needs cutting,’ she said, touching a hand to one of her earrings. ‘This is a good way to hide the split ends.’
‘Why don’t you like compliments?’ he asked. ‘You always deflect them. You used to do that five years ago. I thought it was because you were young back then, but you’re still doing it.’
She stopped fiddling with her earring to look at him, her chin coming up. ‘Compliment me all you like,’ she said. ‘I can handle it.’
‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And extremely intelligent.’
She gave a little mock bow. ‘Thank you.’
‘And you have the most amazing body,’ he said.
High on her cheekbones twin pools of delicate rose appeared, and her eyes moved out of reach of his. ‘I haven’t been to the gym in months.’
‘You’re meant to say thank you—not make excuses,’ he pointed out.
She brought her gaze back. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re the most intriguing person I know.’
A mask fell over her face like a curtain dropping over a stage. ‘You need to get out a little more, Angelo,’ she said.
‘You have secrets in your eyes.’
She stilled as if every cell in her body had been snap frozen. But then, just as quickly she relaxed her pose. ‘We all have our secrets,’ she said lightly. ‘I wonder what some of yours are?’
‘Who gave you that jewellery?’ he asked.
She put a hand to her throat, where her necklace rested. ‘I bought it for myself,’ she said.
‘Do you still have the locket I gave you from that street fair we went to?’
She dropped her hand from her neck and reached for her purse. ‘Your parents will be wondering what’s keeping us,’ she said.
‘My parents will think we’ve been catching up on lost time.’
Her cheeks fired again. ‘I hope they don’t expect me to speak Italian, because I’m hopeless at it.’
‘They won’t expect you to do anything you’re not comfortable with,’ he said. ‘They’re keen to welcome you as the daughter they never had.’
‘I hope I live up to their lofty expectations,’ she said, frowning a little. ‘But then, I guess no one is ever going to be good enough for the parents of an only child.’
‘I’m sure they will grow to love you if you show them who you really are,’ he said.
‘Yeah, like that’s going to work,’ she said, and picked up her wrap and wound it round her shoulders.
Angelo frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘No one really gets to be who they truly are on the inside, do they?’ she said. ‘We all fall into line because of cultural conditioning and family expectation. None of us can say what we really want to say or do what we really want to do. We’re hemmed in by parameters imposed on us by other people and the society we live in.’
‘What would you do or say if those parameters weren’t there?’ he asked.
She gave one of her dismissive shrugs. ‘What would be the point?’ she asked. ‘No one listens anyway.’
‘I’m listening,’ he said.
Her eyes fell away from his. ‘We shouldn’t keep your parents waiting.’
He brought her chin up with his finger and thumb. ‘Don’t shut me out, cara,’ he said. ‘For God’s sake, talk to me. I’m tired of this don’t-come-too-close-to-me game you keep playing.’
Her expression flickered with a host of emotions. He saw them pass through her eyes like a burgeoning tide. They rippled over her forehead