The Promise (11 page)

He reached across the table and grasped her hand, and was extraordinarily pleased when she didn’t pull away. “You seem to be feeling more at ease here at SwanSea. Are you?”

“Somewhat,” she said. His hand was warm over hers, and in some strange way, reassuring. She gazed around the dining room, taking in the jewellike, flower-shaped chandeliers that hung from the ceiling and the elegant table settings. “I’m awestruck by the beauty here, but...” Her shoulders rose and dropped. “This house has a definite personality. I’m staying here with a Deverell and therefore the house should automatically accept me, but I don’t think it does.” She smiled ruefully at him. “You think I’m really odd, don’t you?”

He grinned. “It’s a possibility I’ve considered.” Since she felt much the same way, she couldn’t fault his attitude. Pretending to be annoyed, she tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tight.

“Look, Sharon, SwanSea was a house, now it’s a hotel. You’re making it sound as if it has a personality. As far as I know, Caitlin is the only other person who has ever personified SwanSea, and I think that’s because she rambled around this place pretty much all alone for the first six years of her life.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never felt anything special here?”

“No. Except . . . well, I’ve always felt good being here. In fact, sometimes it’s hard for me to leave. ” Her smile told him he had just proved her point. He exhaled. “Okay, okay, so any idea why the house doesn’t accept you?”

“You’re going to laugh.”

“I won’t laugh.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“It’s almost as if it thinks I plan to harm you.” He laughed loudly. “And do you?”

“I’ve told you everything I plan.” Or
almost everything.
“Eat your raspberries. Two waiters and a chef are hovering in that doorway over there.”

He brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed her, and she felt a tingle all the way to her toes.

“All right, but after I finish I’m going to show you a different view. The more you see of SwanSea, the sooner you’ll become used to it.”

“Well go out here.” Conall opened the attic window, threw one leg over the window ledge, and sat straddling it. He glanced back at Sharon and grinned. “I took a survey one summer when I was eight and decided that this window is the best one to use to climb out on the roof. The slope is fairly gentle on this part of the roof, and it leads to one of the walks.”

“Eight? Did your parents know what you were doing?” She could almost see him as a young boy, his face set with determination, secretiveness, and delight as he climbed out this window to the roof to play and perhaps to dream of the man he would become.

And, if they conceived a son here at SwanSea, she had to wonder if he would possess that engaging streak of mischievousness his father had obviously had as a boy, and much to her amazement obviously
still
had.

“Of course they didn’t know.” He grinned. “There are some things parents are better off not knowing. They live longer that way.”

“I’m not sure I agree.”

His grin widened. “I don’t think my mother would either. Are you coming?”

“Are you sure this is what you want to do? We’re awfully high up.”

He laughed. “You noticed that, did you? Well, don’t worry. I’ve done this many times before.” “But lately? Have you done it lately? After all, you’re not as young as you once were.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m going to have to get you for that.”

She giggled.

A woman would have to be dead not to respond to him, Sharon thought, secretly taking in the way he looked in his jeans and natural-colored cable knit sweater. Sexy, masculine, virile, and desirable were a few adjectives that sprang to mind. If she needed proof that she was a long way from dead, she had it. Everything that was in her was responding to him at this moment.

Since they had left the meadow, he had been a relaxed, charming companion. She had even felt comfortable kidding with him over lunch. But she had moments when it was difficult for her to reconcile this charming, playful man with the one who had hurt her so badly. And more than likely the fact that he
was
the same man made her feel guilt when she did respond to him.

He held out his hand to her. “Come on, Sharon. You don’t want me to call you a chicken, do you?”

 “Let me get this straight. You, Conall Jacob Deverell, whom some call brilliant, the CEO of Deverell Industries, want to climb out on a very high roof like you did when you were eight years old, and you want me to go with you?”

“That about sums it up. Are you coming?” 

“Yes. Just tell me what to do.”

She discovered with surprise that SwanSea’s roof was a series of valleys and peaks, part shingle, part ridged copper. Pathways and steps had been laid out between the different sections to make it easier to work on. She lost count of the chimneys. She also lost her sense of direction until he led her onto a fairly flat section that overlooked the back gardens.

“Here we are,” he said, dropping to sit on the sun-warmed copper, aged to a lovely green patina, and tugging her down beside him.

Below them, box hedges marched in lines that had been drawn long ago, enclosing hundreds of types of plants and flowers. In the center of the garden, myriad streams of water gracefully arced into the air, then fell into the basin of a huge marble fountain.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “You can see forever up here.”

He lifted his hand and pointed toward a distant rise on the horizon. "That’s where we were this morning.”

She nodded. “I don’t see many people. There’s a couple in the garden, another over there by the trees. I imagined SwanSea would be booked to capacity most of the time.”

“It is. It’s just that this time of year, during the day, most of the guests pile in their cars and take drives to see the fall leaves. Tonight, I’m sure the dining room will be filled.” He glanced at her. “Would you like to take a drive tomorrow?”

 “Maybe,” she murmured. Tomorrow seemed so far away. “Conall, do you ever see Mark Bretton anymore?” The question had popped into her head, and she was as astonished as he to hear it. 

He stiffened. “No.”

“Why not? You used to be such good friends.” 

“The minute I found out he’d been seeing you behind my back, he ceased to be my friend.”

“He wasn’t seeing me. We never once went out. He tried, but I wouldn’t have anything to do with him. Eventually he gave up and turned his efforts to poisoning you against me.” She paused. “I never figured out if he really wanted me, or if he was jealous of you because you appeared to have it all and he wanted desperately to be able to take something you valued away from you.”

Conall was silent for a moment. “I nearly killed him.”

“What?”

“You told me what you did that night after you ran out of my apartment. Now I'll tell you what I did. I went to him, called him every name in the book, then proceeded to beat the living hell out of him. If someone hadn’t pulled me off him, I would have killed him.”

“What became of him?”

“Last I heard, he was living in Europe.”

Conall had been very wrong to think that she would go to bed with his friend, she reflected, but nevertheless she saw now that he’d been deeply hurt. A person had to bear an enormous amount of pain in the course of his life. To hurt for the wrong reason and without real cause seemed to her a special kind of tragedy.

“All of a sudden I’m very tired,” she murmured. 

“Lie back and take a nap.”

“Here?”

“Sure, why not?” The corner of his mouth curved slightly upward. “I won’t let you fall.”

The bed in her room was a long way away, and the idea of resting here strongly tempted her. She lay back and shut her eyes. Gradually the sun began to warm her bones, relax her muscles, clear her mind. Sometime later she felt Conall lean over her and press a soft, gentle kiss on her mouth. The kiss seemed to hold an incredible sweetness, an incredible regret. What were they to do, she wondered as she felt him lie down beside her. What were they to do. . . .

When she next opened her eyes, the sun was much lower in the sky, and Conall was standing at the edge of the roof, his arms crossed over his chest, his feet planted wide apart, staring off into the distance.

She sat up and grimaced when her muscles rebelled with pain. “Conall?”

He walked back to her, happier now that she was awake. He’d felt a peculiar kind of restlessness and aloneness while she slept. “More rested now?"

“Yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to nap so long.”

“Don’t worry about it. I slept too.” He extended his hand. “Grab hold and I’ll help you up."

She let out a groan as he pulled her to her feet. “Oh, Lord, I was afraid of this. I was still too long, and that horse ride this morning has caught up with my body.”

“Well go back in, and you can take a good long soak in the tub. I guarantee it will help.”

“How do you know?”

He smiled. “I know from experience. I don’t get a chance to ride unless I’m here, and I don’t get here very often. I plan a soak myself.”

She returned his smile, and suddenly he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her. Her eyes seemed a deep, endless aqua. It would have been so easy, so natural for him to invite her into his tub. Just the thought made his muscles tighten. Heaven help him, he did
want
her.

His eyes lowered to the softness of her mouth. It was curved with amusement, as if she didn’t quite believe that he was also sore. For some crazy reason he found her expression irresistible, and without further thought he angled his head down and kissed hei; lightly, a mere brushing of lips against lips. He hadn’t meant to prolong the kiss, but once he had started he couldn’t seem to stop. He tried to keep the kiss easy, but an unexpected heat flooded him, hitting his system with force. Then her arms crept around his waist, and her mouth opened. He couldn’t refuse the invitation. With a rough sound he thrust his tongue deeply into her mouth and tasted his own pleasure, his own passion.

She was aching, a warm, languid kind of ache that made her want to do things slowly, but at the same time there was an urgency inside her that made her want instant gratification. She slid her hands beneath the sweater to the smooth flesh of his back and pressed herself more firmly to him.

Her breasts had begun to swell, her nipples harden. What was happening to her? Had she slept away her inhibitions with her nap? Or, more likely, had their talk this morning, plus their playful banter during lunch, begun the melting of the things that had been making her hold herself away from him? She wasn’t sure. And somehow she felt It wasn’t really important that she know the answer right that minute.

He understood more now, Conall thought. And amazingly he desired her more, with an intense, hot pleasure that was unfamiliar to him. His head was swimming dizzyingly. A fever had begun to bum inside him, and he had never felt better in his life. She was springtime in his arms, burgeoning with life and passion.

But he couldn’t allow himself to pressure her, he wouldn’t. Last night she had left him. Today he was going to have to force himself to leave her, because if he didn't, he’d never forgive himself. She had to be ready to make love; she had to want him as much as he wanted her.

Unable to pull slowly away from her, he jerked his head up, then stepped back. She was left swaying unsteadily on her feet, her eyes heavy-lidded, an expression of bewilderment on her face. He almost drew her back into his arms, then he almost took her down to the rooftop with him.

"We’ll both feel better after a good hot soak,” he muttered huskily, and reached out for her hand to lead her back inside.

Six

A crystal, bell-like sound rang out as Conall and Sharon touched their wineglasses together.

“To a wonderful stay here at SwanSea,” he said. “May it fulfill each of our expectations.”

“Now, there’s a toast,” she commented. “How long did it take you to come up with it?”

He lifted his hind and snapped his fingers, demonstrating the amount of time it had taken, and three waiters came running. His expression turned rueful, and Sharon laughed.

“False alarm, gentlemen,” he said.

Sharon smiled and sipped her wine. The nap on the roof had left her rested, the kiss she and Conall had shared had left her a trifle off balance, yet feeling very much alive. She had no idea what would happen this evening. At this point she wasn’t even sure what it was she wanted to happen. She just knew that sharing the burden with the person she had held responsible for her pain all these years had helped in some incalculable way, and she no longer felt as emotionally fragile as she once had.

As she had soaked in the seashell-shaped tub, she’d even considered a radical idea: Perhaps going to bed with Conall to conceive a child had not been such a good idea. Perhaps she should return home in the morning and continue on with her life.

And as for this evening, she had decided to take it a minute at a time, and if that proved too arduous, she would try seconds.

“How are all your aches and pains?” he asked, studying her.

“Great. You were right. The hot water soaked them all away.”

“Good, then you’ll be up for a little more exercise tonight."

Instinctively, involuntarily, she tensed. Then she noticed the glint of amusement in his eyes. He was teasing her, deliberately being provocative. She relaxed and gave him a melting smile. “That all depends. What kind of exercise did you have in mind?”

“You’ll see.” He grinned, taking great enjoyment in the simple act of sitting across the table from her and watching the different expressions that chased across her face. She looked exquisite in the evening gown she wore. The bodice had been created out of tiny iridescent beads in colors of ice, purple, turquoise, and green. The long, flowing skirt was made of sheer layers of turquoise, green, and white chiffon. She looked very cool, very seductive. In many ways, very untouchable. He wanted desperately to touch her. “Your dress is lovely. Is it new?”

“No, I’ve had it for about two years.”