Postcards From… Collection. Maisey YatesЧитать онлайн книгу.
wrong about that.’
‘Don’t, Jess, you don’t know the half of it.’ Emma’s hot retort left her lips before she had time to consider what she wanted to say.
‘Last night he looked as if he’d wanted to eat you alive.’ Jess’s bold words, so out of character for her little sister, didn’t ease the doubt; instead, it increased it. Lust had been responsible for that look on Nikolai’s face. Nothing other than desire-fuelled lust.
‘That’s not love, Jess, and it’s not something to build your future on. Don’t ever fall for that.’ But wasn’t that what she herself had done—fallen for the power of raw lust?
‘You’re wrong, Em. What I saw in his eyes last night was love. Anyone can see that.’
‘Don’t be so silly. You’re not even seventeen. How can you know what love looks like?’ Emma was becoming irritated with this conversation. All she wanted to do was leave the confines of the apartment. She needed time to think what to do next—after she’d told Nikolai they wouldn’t be getting married.
‘I know it was love, Em, I just know it. He loves you.’ Jess pleaded with her, but it was too late. She’d made up her mind. ‘Don’t let your past stand in the way of your future. You are not Mother and he’s not your father.’
That was so painfully close to the truth, she didn’t want to hear it. ‘I have to get out of here.’
* * *
For nearly an hour Emma all but marched around the park but none of it gave her any joy, any release from the feeling of impending doom which loomed over her. All she could think about was that she had to tell Nikolai it was over. She stopped walking and found a bench and, sitting down, took out her phone. Her hands shook and, even though her heart was breaking, it was what she had to do. This sham of an engagement had gone on long enough. It was time to end it.
She pressed Nikolai’s number and listened to the ringing tone, part of her wanting him to pick up, part of her wishing he wouldn’t, that she could hang up and walk away. The message system took over, and for a moment she nearly ended the call without leaving a message, but if she didn’t do this now, didn’t say what she needed to, it would be too late. He’d be waiting for her to arrive at the church he’d booked for the small, intimate ceremony with only his family and Jess as guests. They might have struck a cold deal for their child’s sake, but she couldn’t marry him knowing he’d never love her.
‘It’s me, Emma,’ she said, not liking the quiver in her voice, and she tried to sound much sterner. The message she left had to be decisive and firm. ‘I can’t do this, Nikolai. It was wrong of me to accept your deal. I can’t marry you. I’m going back to London with Jess—tonight.’
She ended the call and stared at the phone as if it might explode, but inside she knew she’d done the right thing. She couldn’t marry a man who didn’t love her, not when her love for him grew deeper and stronger each day. All along she’d thought she was doing the right thing, but now she couldn’t see any happiness for her or the baby in a loveless marriage.
She looked at the time on her phone: almost ten. The wedding was due to take place at three. Nikolai had plenty of time to sort things out and make all the necessary cancellations, just as she had time to get a flight back to London booked for her and Jess. She hoped he wouldn’t come and try and persuade her to go through with the wedding. Would he really do that when marriage and fatherhood were the very things he’d admitted not wanting? She wanted to be able to leave in peace. Of course, they’d have to settle things to do with the baby, but that could wait until she was more in control of her emotions, more able to be strong and hold back her love.
It was what she had to do, but she couldn’t move, as if by doing so it would make it worse. But how much worse could it get? She was pregnant with the child of the man she’d lost her heart to and all he wanted was a loveless marriage, a convenient deal. The spark of sexual attraction wouldn’t keep the marriage alive for ever, and once it dwindled to nothing she didn’t think she could continue to live the lie—or hide her love.
She turned off her phone and as she sat in the peace of the park, letting the birdsong soothe her, she wished she could turn off her emotions as easily. All she needed was a few minutes to compose herself and then she’d go back to the apartment, book the flights and leave New York. She could explain to Jess on the long flight home, admit it had been a mistake to come here, and an even bigger mistake to accept Nikolai’s deal, whatever extras he’d thrown her way.
* * *
Nikolai tried to get Emma on the phone again as he strode through the park. Jess had told him to try there after he’d called at the apartment. Anger boiled up inside him as he heard her message going round and round in his head. She didn’t want to get married. I can’t do this, Nikolai: that was what she’d said.
Each time he replayed the words in his mind anger sizzled deep inside him. Anger and rejection. He should have seen it coming. What she’d said at the hospital after the scan suddenly made sense. While he’d been bonding with his child and liking the idea of fatherhood, of settling down with Emma, she’d been thinking of ending the engagement and calling off the wedding.
Anger simmered, pushing him to walk hard and fast through the park. He had no idea where to begin looking and savagely pulled out his phone and tried to call her again. Nothing. She’d turned it off. If she thought a switched-off phone would be enough to deter him, she was very much mistaken. He wasn’t used to people backing out of a deal and he certainly wasn’t accustomed to being denied what he wanted—and he wanted Emma.
The thought trickled through him like a mountain stream thawing after a long, hard winter. He wanted her, really wanted her. Not just with the hot lust that had driven him mad, but with something much deeper. It wasn’t anything to do with the baby. He wanted Emma.
The park was full of morning joggers and dog walkers wrestling with groups of dogs as he stopped and looked around for Emma. She’d been so enamoured with the park since her arrival; she could be anywhere. A strong curse left his lips as he marched on towards the lake; then, as he rounded a corner, he could see her through the trees. She was sitting on a bench, looking away into the distance, totally absorbed in thought.
He reined in the instinct to rush over to her and demand to know just what the message had been all about, and instead walked slowly towards her, taking advantage of the fact that she was looking the other way. Her long hair gleamed in the morning sunshine as he got closer and he rubbed the pads of his thumb and finger together, remembering the silky softness of her hair. Would he ever feel it again?
Emma turned to look his way and he stopped walking, frozen to the spot with something that seemed horribly like fear, but fear of what? He saw the moment she realised it was him, saw the tension make her body stiffen, and the realisation that he did that to her hurt more than he knew. She was either afraid of him or hated him for what he’d done to her.
She didn’t move, but she did look down, as she always did when something was difficult to do. Was her reluctance to leave an invitation for him to join her? He didn’t care what the hell it was. He was going to sit with her regardless.
I can’t let the woman I love walk out on me.
That thought crashed into him and he stopped again, his heart pounding as he realised exactly what that thought meant. He’d felt the same at the hospital. Why hadn’t he seen it then?
He looked at her, sitting on the bench in the morning sunshine only a short distance away, yet it was like a chasm had opened up right there in the park. It yawned between them, becoming greater with each passing second.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t cross it.
He’d pushed her to the other side of it right from the very beginning and she’d been more than happy to be there. She’d agreed with everything he’d said about commitment and love, accepted the cold terms of his marriage deal. She scorned love or happy-ever-after just as much as he had, but now, as if he’d finally opened his eyes and seen what was real, he had to accept