Trust (21 page)

In a darker corner, sat a tall, large man looking directly at her.

“And that one sulking in the dark is Alice’s brother, Alistair MacCraig. Alistair, meet my nemesis, Sophia.”

No! Alistair MacCraig? Alistair Connor MacCraig is Leonard’s brother-in-law? Please let this be a coincidence and there is another Alistair MacCraig
. She squinted.

His frame occupied the big, gilded armchair he sat in, his long legs stretched in front of him, crossed at his ankles. He stood with a feline grace, incongruous to his size.

Oh, my. It’s him!
She forgot how to breathe. Again.
This man does things to me
.

She remembered well those broad, strong shoulders and that vast chest. His intense green eyes on his rugged face. Silky, long hair her fingers itched to touch.

Sophia stood in the middle of the room fascinated by the sheer sexual power he exuded. It seemed she turned into an idiot when it came to him. The scene was repeating itself. Her thoughts spun wildly in her head. Suddenly, a fear gripped Sophia.
Is this destiny?

Leonard watched her intently and when she gazed up at him, he jutted his chin in his brother-in-law’s direction, his hands leaving her.

She stared back at the man, not quite certain of what to do, when she noticed him brushing aside a lock of that midnight-black hair that had fallen over his eyes in an absentminded way that had so enchanted her. That did it. An unconditionally delighted grin spread slowly over her face and she let her feet lead her to him.

She tilted her head back when she reached him and his emerald eyes burned into her soul.

He dipped his head and his hair fell again in his eyes. “Sophia,” his deep voice low, intimate, her name a caress on his lips, “thus we meet again.”
Despite your refusal to answer my numerous calls and flowers and cards, I still fucking desire you
.

So it seems
. But she could not find her voice to say a word. Her heart was beating so fast that she could feel her blood coursing through her veins.
Damn. This is becoming an annoyance
.

His grin grew, as if he knew her heart had quickened.

“I believe in witches, Sophia,” his deep voice hypnotized her.

Gabriela moved from her hiding place, shaking Sophia from her spellbound state. “I hope you don’t burn me at the stake,” Sophia murmured to him.

“I don’t burn witches. I set them on fire,” Alistair whispered so low Sophia thought she had heard wrong.

Gabriela raised her head to study him, unsure if she should defend her mother or not.

Alistair looked at the child’s face and, startled, his heart stopped in his chest.
Christ!
“Your daughter?” he breathed and his hand trailed an inevitable road to the girl’s hair.

Sophia nodded.

“May I pick her up?”

“She doesn’t-”

As if bewitched by the same spell he had cast over the mother, the timid and reserved daughter extended her chubby arms to him, with an open smile on her face. Alistair’s face, simultaneously shimmering with many different emotions, captivated Sophia. He watched the little girl for a few seconds mesmerized, before he sat down again with Gabriela on his lap.

Sophia kneeled on one knee in front of his armchair. The room vanished from behind her and a cocoon enveloped the three of them. Gabriela seemed as enraptured by this handsome stranger as he was by her. She ran her small hands over his hair and fingered the jagged ends.

“Aren’t you charming? How old are you?”

Instead of answering his question, Gabriela countered with one of hers.

“Shouldn’t you cut your hair? It’s kinda weird. Only girls have long hair and…” She cocked her head to the side, studying him, “you’re not a girl, are you?”

“Gabriela!” Sophia tried to maintain a stern face but a giggle escaped.

He joined in and laughed, throwing his head back. A deep, rich laugh. The kind that made one want to laugh too. His green eyes twinkled with mirth and he winked at Sophia.

“No, I’m not a girl.” His smile was infectious. “So, you don’t like my hair, little one?”

“I didn’t say that. Your hair is, hmm, silky, just like my uncle Felipe’s.” Then she shook her head. “But it’s like a girl’s isn’t it, Mama?”

“Hey, don’t you drag me into this. You started it, you finish it.”

Her little fingers delved in the richness of his hair again, toying with it. Alistair felt such peace fill his soul that he wanted to close his eyes and revel in it. He took a deep breath, struggling with his feelings.

“So, you like fashion, Gabriela?”

“Yes, can’t you tell? You just have to look at my dress and shoes,” she said in a fancy way. “I picked them myself. But, I also like Mama’s style. She likes clothes too, and she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. Don’t you think?”

Sophia blushed slightly.

“Aye, I do.” His green eyes pierced Sophia’s hazel ones and he chuckled. “And you’re very beautiful, too.” He caressed Gabriela’s hair with a pensive air and sighed. A deep, profound sigh. “If you ask me nicely again and give me a kiss, I’ll cut my hair for you, little lady.”

Gabriela cocked her head slightly to one side, as if hearing something in his promise that only she could. She put a hand on his cheek. After a moment, she asked bluntly, “And why don’t you do this for your own kids?”

He paled and turned to stone, shutting his eyes as if in deep pain. Slowly, so very slowly, he opened his eyes, the green now almost black. He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, his windpipe working convulsively.

“Because my daughter isn’t here anymore,” he answered, enfolding Gabriela’s small hand in his larger one.

“And where is she?”

Alistair looked at Sophia, as if he didn’t know what to say, asking for her help. She covered his hand with hers, squeezing it softly, trying to infuse into him the strength he needed.

“She’s- She’s in heaven,” he murmured.

Sophia gave a small, low gasp. He looked at her as if to apologize. The intense pain he felt prevented him from saying more, even if he had wanted to.

He felt a soft hand caressing his cheek and gently stroking his eyes, drying the tears he refused to recognize.

“Don’t cry. She wouldn’t like it. When I missed my father, I used to cry. Mama taught me when I cry, he is sad and will cry, too. I don’t want my daddy sad. I’m sure you don’t want your daughter sad, too.” Gabriela sat there, caressing his face, as if she knew him from eons ago. “What’s her name?”

In a barely audible whisper, Alistair answered. “Nathalie. Her name was Nathalie.”

“I’m going to ask my father to look for her and say that you’re not sad anymore, okay?”

Sophia put her other hand under Alistair’s, enveloping both his and her daughter’s. She stayed there, kneeled beside his long legs. She couldn’t move. An overpowering need to hug and comfort that confident and proud man and to help him mourn the loss of his child sprang from deep inside her. Sophia leaned in his direction, her hand running over his hand and his arm, resting on his shoulder. Her eyes bore into his and his head slanted a little in her direction.

She startled, as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and gripped it, causing her pain. She winced.

A dry, unsympathetic voice ordered, “We’d better see to our room,
darling
.” Ethan stressed the word, as if he meant it as a curse.
You said you were faithful, baby. Are you already scattering your charms in the wind?

Sophia rose, trembling a little. “God, you scared me,” she whispered.

“I could see you were engaged in a private talk with MacCraig,” Ethan hissed between clenched teeth, glaring at Alistair, Ethan’s azure eyes blistered with an undefined emotion.
She is mine!

Alistair had the insane desire to smash his fist on Ethan’s nose and see it broken and bloodied. He frowned.
What the fuck?

Since he discovered Heather’s betrayal, no woman had stirred his emotions as Sophia had. He had learned just to satisfy his own sexual needs and discard the women.
You can’t trust women. Remember, Alistair Connor
.

Sophia licked her lips, spinning back toward her daughter. “Let’s go, Gabriela.” They held hands and stepped away from Alistair.

“See you all later,” Sophia said to the room, then waved and departed.

Andrew, who sat next to Alistair, glanced at the couple exiting the room and the child walking shyly beside the mother. Tapping his fingers on the sofa arm, he frowned. “A word of advice, Alistair. Ashford is a jealous man and quite possessive of his things. He doesn’t like to share or to lose.”

“Things?” Alistair let the word roll on his tongue. “Do you consider her a
thing
? What is she? A slave? I thought slavery had been abolished centuries ago.”

“I didn’t mean that. I just want to give you some advice. Use it as you wish. For her sake, if not for yours,” Andrew insisted.

“I think he’s right, Brother.” Alice concurred, quietly arriving at his side.

Alistair rose and poured himself a large whisky. He swallowed it, feeling the burn in his throat, as rage seethed in him. “You’re all seeing things that don’t exist. Heather and Nathalie have only been dead a year. For Christ’s sake! I’ve met the woman before; she’s no novelty to me! I was just talking with her daughter.”

He swallowed the rest of the whisky, banged the glass on the table, and strolled out of the room, leaving an astonished audience to watch his exit.

Chapter 10

Saturday, February 13
^th
, 2010.

10 a.m.

Alistair followed her every idiosyncratic movement as she walked through the pool area, in her Brazilian bikini and a white linen shirt that fell mid-thigh, but did little to conceal her body. The rise and fall of her breasts with each breath, the soft swing of her hair as her head moved, her nervous wetting of her lips with her tongue, the sway of her hips as she walked with her long legs and her soft round butt. All this drove him to distraction.
I’m sure she has a Brazilian wax, too. Fuck. I have to control my thoughts
.

He felt a prickle on his neck and, looking away from her, he caught Ethan watching him through narrowed eyes.
Fuck! I don’t want any problems
. He nodded and looked away. She had warned him; she was seeing someone else.
She is Ethan’s. No point in staring, in desiring
.

Alas, his eyes seemed glued to her.
Who am I fooling? Alexander is ogling her, too. Even Andrew, who has eyes only for Domitila, is sneaking peeks at her
.

And still she’s nervous
. He could notice by the way she licked her lips and tapped her long nails on her hips.
Why? Doesn’t she know she’s the most beautiful, sensual woman in the house? In England? Christ! In the whole of Britain? That she drives each and every man crazy with desire? That her bikini is the most sinful thing I ever saw in my whole life? It shows without really showing. Promises and temptations, making my blood boil in my veins, as if I’m in my own private hell. Or maybe that’s it. I’m atoning for my sins. God knows I have plenty. But, fuck! This is a good way to expiate one’s sins. Curse Ethan and his sense of ownership. Curse my scruples. Life is not fair. At least, Ethan doesn’t seem jealous of Gabriela
.

Alistair crossed the pool lounge and sat next to Gabriela and the other children. Immediately, she smiled at him.
Thanks Christ for children
.

Ethan noticed the men’s lustful gazes toward Sophia.
Why has she put on that bikini? She’s showing off!
He narrowed his eyes, enraged.

Sophia gave Ethan a trembling smile that he didn’t reciprocate. Mustering courage, she shrugged off her shirt, let it drop on a nearby chair, and gracefully dove in the pool. She swam underwater until she reached Alice, Leonard, and Ethan and sat quietly on a pool step, draping some of her heavy wet hair over her scarred arm. Opening her arms, she called Alice and Leonard’s daughter, who had just arrived by her mother’s side. “Ariadne, come sit by me. I’ll make you a beautiful braid.”

The lovely and intelligent Ariadne immediately came to sit sideways on Sophia’s lap. Ariadne and Gabriela had developed a friendship from their first meeting. Sophia had always loved children and Ariadne enchanted her.

“Sophia, can I ask you something?” Ariadne asked as Sophia braided her long strawberry blonde hair.

“Of course, my dear.”

Running her hand over Sophia’s left shoulder to her jagged scars, brushing aside Sophia’s hair, Ariadne inquired, “What is this?”

A fierce stab shot through Sophia’s head. She hissed in pain and winced noticeably, closing her eyes, her fingers faltering on the braid.

“Ariadne!” Leonard chastised the girl, shocked.

Everyone went dead quiet and all eyes were riveted on them.

Sophia paled and looked around. She knew. Deep inside, she knew.
I can flee to Siberia, but the nightmare will stay with me forever, no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to hide. There’s no escape
.

“Ariadne, we don-” Alice began.

Sophia raised her hand, placating the anxious mother. “It’s okay, Alice. She’s just curious.” Turning to the girl, she answered, “It’s an old scar.”

“And how did you get it?”

Sophia heard Alice’s breath falter but she kept her eyes on the child’s green ones.

How? I don’t remember
. “Some bad men shot me about two years ago.”
And they killed my husband, destroying my life, despoiling me of my dreams
.

“Why?”

Why? I don’t know
. Sophia’s head pounded so much she thought it would explode. “Why?” She smiled sadly at the girl, finishing the girl’s braid.
How could anyone explain this?
“Ariadne, they were evil men and they didn’t know good from bad.”

From the corner of her eyes, Sophia saw Alice and Leonard shifted uncomfortably.

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes, a bit.”
Oh, it hurts a lot. Every day I wake up alone. Every night I go to bed on my own. It hurts every single minute of my goddamned life. Only I know how much
. Nevertheless, she couldn’t tell this to a child. She noticed that Ethan observed her with a creepy expression.