The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
can’t blame the mother who walked out on me and the father who gave up on me?” he asked, his tone even. Far too smooth.
She wanted him broken.
“No. They did not fashion you. You fashioned yourself. You talk of it as though it is part of your legend. An amusing anecdote for you to throw out when it suits you, to put distance between yourself and your accuser. As if I will back away from you if I understand that you’re nothing more than a little boy wishing his mommy would come back and hug him. But I will not,” she said, her voice shaking. “I do not feel sorry for you. Because while your mother left you years ago, and while that certainly hurt you, you have been inflicting wounds upon yourself every day thereafter. That is not her fault. You cannot blame her anymore.”
“The hell I can’t.”
“You are in a hell of your own making! You cannot accept the fact that anyone might stay with you and so you’re intent on pushing everyone who loves you away. Why? Because one woman didn’t love you?”
“The only woman who should have loved me, simply because I was drawing breath, didn’t. That is an entirely different thing. And not only her. My father.”
“So that means you must not be worthy of love? That means that you have to set out to prove that those of us who are foolish enough to care for you are in fact fools? Why do you insist on putting a gun to your own head?”
“I know what I am, that’s all. There is no point in trying to refashion myself in a manner that I am unsuited to.”
“Who says you are unsuited? I have been with you these past weeks and you are suited to me. Until now. Until you dared touch another woman when you swore to me you would not.” Her throat tightened, pain lancing her. “You said that I would be the only one.”
“Yes. And I meant it then. I did. But things change. And that’s the way it is with me. I do not keep my word. I never have.”
“You are a liar.”
“No!” he roared back at her. “It is more than that. I have never kept my word. And in the end? I didn’t even try.”
“What?” The question came out small, weak.
“I told my mother that at the Christmas Eve dinner I would behave myself. That she could allow me out of my room this time. I had made mistakes, so many in years past that my mother had issued a decree I could no longer partake in public events. I could never sit still. I could never listen to instructions. I was a very bad boy. Always. I ruined everything that she did. Every appearance we had to make with the family. She mourned my existence, Zara. My very birth. They should have stopped with Kairos. She knew it. She told me. But that last time...that last time I didn’t even try. I broke my plate on purpose, made a mess of the table setting because I was so angry with her. And when she left I was glad because I would never have to try for her again.”
“Andres...”
“No. Do not look at me with those pitying eyes, Zara. What can you possibly know about it? For years I tried my damnedest. But it was never good enough. So when I stopped trying, I didn’t just stop trying. I did my best to be bad. To move so far past the point of redemption I could never be retrieved from beyond it. That’s the man I am now. I give in freely to my vices. I rejoiced at the loss of my mother because it meant there was no one left to try and control me and I could happily sink into the depths of debauchery. Marry me tomorrow if you want, Zara. But I will never love you. And you will never be able to be certain of my fidelity. How can you be when I will never be certain of it? When I will never do a damn thing to resist my own desires. I spent too many years trying and failing. I would not do it for my mother and I sure as hell won’t do it for you.”
“You bastard. You utter bastard. I am trapped here with you. You made me love you. You presented to me the stark truth that I have no other options beyond marrying you, and now, now that you have forced me to care, you tell me that I cannot have you.”
“Don’t be silly. You can have me. You just can’t have exclusive rights on me.”
“Then I don’t want you at all.”
“You can have your distance, Zara. I will ensure that you are taken care of. I will ensure that everything you need is handled. We will keep up appearances...”
“No.”
“Yes. And make no mistake, you will still be my wife. But you do not have to live with me. You do not have to love me.”
“No. I will not be your wife. I cannot.”
Andres ground his teeth together, his expression fierce. “I promised Kairos.”
“You break every promise. You said you enjoy being beyond redemption. So you should very much like this. You should’ve known that you could not cross me without retribution. I will not be made a fool of.”
“So you would not leave when you were given to me as a gift, a thing, but you will leave now for your pride?”
“Yes.” The word fell from her lips softly, confidently. “Because I’m a different woman now than I was when I first came to you. I was afraid then. Afraid that if I left the palace, if I left your care, I would simply die out in a snowbank somewhere. Afraid to let anyone close because the loss might kill me. But I know that isn’t true now. I’m stronger than that. I will leave here, and I will make a life for myself. Because I can. I can change. I can learn. I have shown myself that. But one thing I will not do is stay for this. This humiliation. This pain.”
She turned away, her hand shaking. She swallowed hard. “I loved leaning on your strength, Andres. But I am capable of standing on my own.”
“We are getting married tomorrow,” he said, as though she hadn’t spoken. “My brother is announcing it tonight.”
“You should have thought of that before you betrayed me. I am not forgiving, Andres.” She hadn’t known that about herself. But now she did. She’d never had her heart broken before, not quite in this manner.
It turned out she was slightly vindictive. “I will not forgive you for this. Kairos and the fallout are your problem. The wedding, and what happens when I fail to appear, is your problem.”
She strode away from him, down the empty corridor, her high heels clicking on the marble, echoing in the space.
She rounded the corner, saw the two double doors that led outside and flung them open, bracing herself against the biting chill of the wind. It was snowing outside, a thick blanket of it covering the ground. She walked forward, wrapping her arms around herself, rubbing her bare skin with her hands. She could see her breath, and she became aware of a chill on her cheek.
She was crying. Tears falling down, leaving icy tracks behind. She looked back at the palace, and ahead at the blank canvas of white. She lifted up her full pink skirt and began to run through the snow as quickly as she could, her feet sinking deep into the icy cold, but she didn’t care. She slipped, falling down onto her knee, and forward, her gown billowing out around her. She stopped, letting the cold seep through. Down her skin, down to her bones.
She shivered. The physical discomfort she felt did not compare to the pain that was rioting through her chest. To the unending darkness that was threatening to destroy her.
She leaned forward, the snow freezing her exposed skin. And she didn’t care.
She knew she needed to get up. She knew she needed to run, as she had told him she would. She couldn’t just lie here and die in a snowbank; that was an old fear. But, for a moment it was tempting.
And when she felt that flicker of temptation, she stood. No, she would not fade away. She would not hide herself from pain. She would not allow for herself to be alone. Not to protect herself, not for any reason at all. She would have what she wanted. No, she couldn’t have Andres. But whether she stayed or left, that would be the case. She would not subject herself to that. And she was strong enough now to claim that for herself. To understand that she deserved it.