Claiming His Princess. Kate WalkerЧитать онлайн книгу.
was it like?’
No such luck…
‘Dusty.’
‘Pah!’
He glanced at her and couldn’t help chuckling at her disgusted expression.
‘Do you know you close up like a crab whenever I ask you anything personal?’
‘Clam.’
‘That’s what I said.’ She studied him as if she was trying to work him out. ‘Why do you make it so hard to know you?’
Wondering what to say to that thorny question, Wolfe was relieved when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was his brother. ‘Excuse me, but I have to take this.’ He pressed the answer button. ‘Ad-man, what’s up?’
His brother hesitated on the other end of the line. ‘Oh, sorry, bro. Have I caught you in the middle of a run?’
It took Wolfe a second to understand his brother’s comment, and then he became conscious that his breathing was tense and uneven. Great. ‘Just work. Don’t tell me you’re still in the office, too?’
‘With you living it large in a European castle, guarding a beautiful maiden, where else would I be?’
Wolfe told his brother he’d trade places with him in the blink of an eye but even as he said it he knew he was lying. Quickly changing the subject, he tormented his brother a little more and then ran through a few work-related issues before ringing off.
‘Well, that was convenient.’
Wolfe lifted his gaze to the woman who was slowly driving him mad and realised that other than his brother she was the only person who had ever teased him about his behaviour.
Feeling overly hot, even though the air temperature had dropped a couple of degrees, he focused on the small cluster of flowers she held in her hands, not unlike a bride waiting to walk down the aisle. Shaking off that disconcerting image, he made his voice curt when he spoke. ‘We should head back inside.’
‘Okay.’ She sniffed the small posy and fell into step beside him. ‘Was that your brother?’
He thought about changing the subject, but knew if he did her interest would only grow, not wane. ‘Yes.’
‘You sound close to him.’
‘I am.’
‘So, no sibling rivalry?’
He shook his head. ‘We’re less than two years apart so we did everything together.’
‘Does he travel around like you?’
‘No. He’s based in New York.’
‘Does he have a wife? Kids?’
Wolf stopped so abruptly she’d taken two more steps before she noticed.
‘This is starting to feel like an inquisition.’
She shrugged one slender shoulder. ‘I’m just trying to know you a little better.’
‘By asking questions about my brother?’
‘You won’t answer questions about anything else.’
That was because he had never seen the point in talking about himself. And, if he was completely honest, because he was starting to like her in a way that transcended the physical and that scared him. It was dangerous to bond with a client. It caused sloppy work and unrealistic attachments to develop.
‘Look, don’t worry about it.’ She gave him a half smile that seemed paper-thin. ‘When you’re like this…’ She gave another one of those Gallic shrugs that drove him bonkers. ‘I forget you work for my father.’
If she had tried to wheedle information from him, or tried to make him feel guilty, he would have held his line. Faced with the stoic indifference he now knew she used to mask her true feelings, he caved. Or perhaps it was just that she looked so beautiful in the light of the crescent moon.
‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, not a little gruffly.
‘What do you want to tell me?’
Wolfe blew out a breath. It was so typical of her to make him work for something he didn’t even want.
‘My father died ten years ago.’
Ava stopped and looked at him. ‘I’m sorry. Were you close?’
Had they been close? Probably not, if he had to think about his answer. ‘At times.’
‘And your mother?’
Wolfe turned to continue walking. ‘I don’t know where she lives. She left when I was younger.’
‘Oh. That must have been hard.’
‘It is what it is.’
He felt her glance and knew she was seeing more than he wanted her to. ‘Is she the reason you avoid long-term relationships?’
There was a lengthy silence in which he realised even the cicadas had stopped singing. As if they too were waiting with bated breath for his answer. Wolfe made a sound in his throat at the uncharacteristically fanciful thought and nearly missed her next word.
‘Love?’
He did not want to talk about this with her. It was time to end the conversation. ‘Love is the most unstable emotion I’ve ever come across,’ he said fiercely. ‘My mother didn’t just leave once. She left over and over. And every time she returned she told us how much she loved us. It was the only time she ever said it.’
As soon as the bleak words were out he regretted them. The look of pity on Ava’s face only made the feeling ten times worse.
‘Where did she go?’
Wolfe thrust his hand through his hair and promised himself next time he’d stick to monosyllabic answers or none at all, as he usually did. ‘We never knew. Sometimes she would meet a man in town and take off, other times she just went on a “holiday”.’
‘But that’s awful. What did your father say? Was he even there?’
‘He was there,’ Wolfe said grimly. Usually out on his tractor, ignoring reality. ‘But he didn’t say anything. When she came back, sometimes months later, we all just pretended she’d never left.’
‘That hurts the most, no?’ Her delicate brows drew together in consternation. ‘I used to hate it when my father would go off on extended business trips, or lock himself away in meetings and then totally ignore how it made us feel.’
‘I wasn’t hurt by her actions,’ Wolfe denied. ‘But Adam was. Whenever she’d go he used to run away and try and find her.’ He hated remembering those hours of searching for his brother, worried about whether he’d find him alive or dead in the hot, arid bushland that surrounded their farm.
‘But not you?’
Wolfe realised with a start that she had somehow sucked him back into the past against his better judgment, and he felt excessively relieved to find they had arrived back at the palace. ‘No. Not me. I was older. I understood.’
She looked up at him with such a penetrating gaze he felt every one of his muscles grow taut.
‘Understood what, Wolfe?’ Her gaze bored into his. ‘That you were a child who couldn’t rely on his mother’s love?’
AVA VACILLATED BETWEEN the two evening gowns laid out on her hotel bed. She could smell the fragrant Parisian air through her open window, and outside she knew the night sky was streaked with pink and orange, the Seine sparkling under the glow of the street lamps that