The Alpha Male. Madeleine KerЧитать онлайн книгу.

      ‘My God, I’ve found you at last,’ he whispered, holding her gaze with those grey eyes that could be as cold as the Arctic sea, or blaze like the sun off ice.

      Involuntarily, she took a step back. He came into the shop and closed the door behind them. He was much taller than Penny, and he towered over her.

      ‘Ryan, you have no right to be here,’ she said in a tight voice. But her heart was racing as though it would burst out of her chest, and she felt her stomach churning. Such familiar feelings, when faced with Ryan Wolfe; they accompanied him the way wild winds and lightning accompanied winter storms.

      ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find you?’ he demanded, his gaze still locked on hers, as though he were drinking her in through his eyes.

      Penny clenched her jaw. ‘I didn’t want you to follow me, Ryan. Why did you bother? What was the point?’

      ‘The point is that I can’t live without you,’ he replied.

      Her heart seemed to stop for a moment at the harshly spoken words, but she forced herself to answer him. ‘Well, I can live without you,’ she said with a sketch of a smile. ‘I’ve been doing so for eleven months, two weeks and five days. Very happily, I might add.’

      At last he tore his gaze away from her and glanced around the shop. His passionate, beautiful mouth curled. ‘You’re happy with this? When you know what I could give you!’

      Anger brought a flush to her delicately sculpted cheekbones. ‘Don’t condescend to me, Ryan. Nothing is ever as good as what you can offer, is it? You hold everyone and everything in contempt.’

      He shook his head slightly. ‘That’s not true. But I do know that I would give you the sun and the moon if you asked for them.’

      She turned away. ‘You’re so sure of yourself. Haven’t all these months taught you anything?’

      ‘Time just deepens my feelings,’ he said, his voice husky. His eyes were devouring her again, hungry, more than hungry, ravenous. Her skin flared in gooseflesh as she recalled how very physical his hunger could be, how he could devour her body and soul in that fiery passion of his. ‘How could you do this to us, Penny? How do you manage to hide yourself from the truth?’

      She turned back to him abruptly. ‘You shouldn’t have come here. Do you want to break both our hearts all over again?’

      ‘I want to make us whole.’ He took her arm in his hand, and as though his touch had burned her, Penny jerked away from him.

      ‘Don’t touch me!’

      Ryan’s frown had relaxed for a moment, but at her rejection his face tightened again. ‘Do you know what you’ve put me through? It’s taken me almost a year to find you! You’ve hidden here under a false name, a false identity—’

      ‘Not exactly,’ she cut in. ‘Watkins is Aubrey’s name. My stepfather. I’m entitled to use it.’

      ‘You used it to hide yourself from me.’

      ‘You should have taken the hint,’ she retorted.

      ‘Penny, you can’t bury yourself here. You can’t bury all the passion we feel for each other.’

      ‘Passion dies, Ryan. I didn’t have to bury it. It grew cold as soon as I managed to get away from you.’ He began to speak but she stopped him by raising a slender hand. ‘I thought you had understood, a year ago. It’s over, forever. Your following me here was a bad mistake. Please go, now. And don’t come back.’

      If she’d expected her little speech to make any impact on Ryan, she was disappointed. Those grey eyes, framed by such thick black lashes that they gave the appearance of smouldering like embers, considered her with all their force, all their damnable intelligence. ‘You don’t love me any longer?’ he asked quietly.

      ‘I don’t think I ever did,’ she replied.

      His hair was longer than it had been in London. Then, it had been cropped short and kept neat, as befitted a young, dynamic, self-made millionaire on his way up the dizzy ladder. Now it had grown. Thick black locks half covered his ears and curled round his powerful neck; dishevelled by the wind, his hair looked almost wild, like the pelt of some glossy animal. He had either made it to the top of the ladder, and no longer cared what he looked like—or this was a different, even more dangerous Ryan Wolfe from the one she had known.

      The tall and rangy body, too, looked leaner, though it was hard to tell, as he wore a sheepskin jacket against the bitter cold. The fleecy lining framed his sculpted jaw and muscular throat.

      Who knew, with Ryan? Perhaps he had lost a fortune in some disastrous gamble? He was studying her now with cryptic eyes, his thumb rasping across the unshaven stubble that dotted his lean jaw, a gesture she remembered of old.

      ‘Penny, please grant me one thing,’ he said, evidently struggling to keep his temper. ‘I want to see our child.’

      She felt an icy hand close around her heart. ‘Our child? What are you talking about?’

      ‘The child you bore,’ he said sharply. ‘The baby we made together. Where is he? Or is it a she?’

      Her knees were so weak that she almost had to sit down. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what happened, Ryan! That is cruel, even by your standards!’

      His face became like stone. ‘What happened? Tell me.’

      She looked into his eyes. Could it really be that he didn’t know? It was unlike him to play such cruel tricks, though he was capable of being very devious.

      ‘There is no child, Ryan,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I miscarried.’

      For a moment it seemed he did not understand. ‘What?’

      ‘I had a miscarriage at three months. I lost the baby.’

      His complexion was usually tanned, with ruddy touches on the harsh cheekbones and in his full mouth. But now she saw the blood drain from his face, leaving him white. ‘I don’t believe you.’

      She turned away wearily. ‘I got sick. Encephalitis. I was in hospital for two weeks. One of the side-effects was the miscarriage. It happened while I was in a coma, so I knew nothing about it until days afterwards.’

      His fingers bit into her shoulders, pulling her round to face his blazing eyes. ‘Is this true?’

      ‘I would not lie about this,’ she said bitterly. ‘Didn’t you get my letter?’

      ‘What letter?’

      ‘I wrote you a letter. When I was discharged from hospital.’ She saw by his face that he didn’t know what she was talking about. He had never received her letter. ‘I don’t know why you didn’t get it. I just assumed you had received it and didn’t want to reply. I’m sorry you had to hear it like this.’

      He covered his face with his hands. There was no doubting his emotion.

      For a moment, pity for him almost melted her own heart. She felt her eyes mist over, and the familiar hot lump of grief filled her throat. She lifted one hand to reach out to him. Her shaking fingers hesitated in the air, not quite having the courage to make that journey across so much space.

      At last, his hands dropped away from his face. ‘Tell me the truth,’ he said. ‘Did you end the pregnancy?’