Awakened by His Touch (18 page)

‘Wasted potential, I’m sure you’d say.’

‘Yeah, I would have—before I met you. Because before then...you were right...I associated potential with achievements. Things. Value. I had no idea that the most important potential is the person that we are.’ Breath sighed out of him. ‘And you’re the most fully realised person that I’ve ever met, Helena Morgan.’

She swallowed, but couldn’t think of one clever thing to say.

‘It took me a few weeks away from you to see it clearly. And lots of conversations with your brother—who worships the ground you walk on, by the way. I’m the one that’s been dipping out on my potential. In favour of money and status. Glossing over relationships, skipping from country to country, never settling in one place long enough that it became obvious. But I can’t stand next to you for more than a few minutes before I start to feel inadequate.’

‘You’re hardly that.’

Confusion leached out of him. ‘I’m not happy. Not like you are. I’m not content in my own company and with my life the way I’ve built it. I’m rich, and I’m well-travelled, but I don’t get up each morning and just...smile.’

‘You say that like you have no experience of happiness at all.’

‘My mother chose her simple life as an antidote to the first sixteen years of her life. All that pressure. All that expectation from her parents and her coaches since she was five years old. She was happy—genuinely happy—and healing through our simple life. But I couldn’t be. I was ambitious and proud, even as a kid, and the absence of her encouragement and support really rankled. I hated myself for finding my own mother so lacking, but that was easier than looking at what was really going on. She had nothing in life yet she seemed so full. And I had nothing in life but was also completely dissatisfied. Completely empty. All that travel, all that accumulation, was to compensate for the great nothing I felt inside.’

‘I was angry when I said you were empty—’

‘You were
right
when you said it.’ He turned her towards him. ‘Turns out I’m the real blind one here, and I’ve been fumbling around in the dark for years, in that same emotional metre-square, avoiding real relationships, avoiding giving myself to anything, thinking that’s all there is. And then I met you, and you showed me this whole other world I was missing.’ His fingers threaded through hers. ‘But I didn’t hold on hard enough. You were my guide and I let you go.’

Everything in her shrivelled into an aching ball. Was he saying she was his Wilbur? When he knew full well that Wilbur meant everything to her.

‘A whole other world?’ she croaked.

‘I just wanted to return the favour, Laney. I didn’t know that was what I was doing in trying to get you off the farm, but I was trying to give you
my
world.’

‘I thought you pitied me.’

‘I know.’

‘I thought my lack of ambition repelled you.’

His hand tightened around hers. ‘I’m so sorry that’s how I made you feel.’

‘You made me feel impaired. And I’d truly never felt that until then. In all my life.’

The silence then was awful. But she took some solace from the fact that he at least recognised that to have been the cruellest thing he could do to her. So maybe he did know her a little bit, after all.

His forehead leaned gently on hers, and it was more eloquent than anything he could have said just then.

‘I have nothing against new things,’ she murmured into the silence. ‘Or places. I just object to being expected to do them or go to them because I somehow
owe
it to blind people everywhere. I was even a little bit jealous that Owen was off having this great time—
with you
—and having experiences I might never get to have. But the more everyone expected me to do it the less I wanted to. On principle.’

‘You don’t need to explain. And I don’t ever want you putting yourself at risk like today just to show me you can.’

‘I think I needed to show
me
I could,’ she admitted. ‘And so when I couldn’t it was confronting’

He drew her into a careful embrace—welcoming, not forcing. So that she could disentangle herself if she wanted. But she didn’t want. She’d been missing these arms for months.

‘You’re not empty, Elliott,’ she breathed.

‘Not when we’re together,’ he vowed. ‘Empty doesn’t feel like this.’

Their combined body heat warmed his scent and it shimmied around them. She nestled more fully into his hold and was warmed through from the inside out.

‘Bees do this,’ she murmured against his chest. ‘The “cuddle death”. The workers embrace the retiring Queen,
en masse
, until the combined heat of their vibrating wings means she gently expires.’

And right now, in the warmth of Elliott’s hold, she’d have happily ended her days just like this.

‘Nice analogy.’ He leaned away from her slightly, to murmur against her hair. ‘If a little creepy.’

Maybe it was because this was the first time she’d really laughed in months. Or maybe it was because a matching one rattled through his big body and vibrated against her cheek. But whatever the reason it gave her the confidence to be truly vulnerable with him.

‘I missed you so much, Elliott.’

‘Ditto.’

And then they were kissing again. After such a long hiatus. His finger under her chin lifted her waiting mouth for the press of his warm lips, the challenge of his tongue, and the comfort of his hot breath mingling with hers. And somehow she knew that he was the last man she would ever kiss.

No matter what happened from here.

He broke away from her gently to start the car and reversed, only to park again.

‘What are we doing?’ she murmured, twisting back towards him.

‘I wanted to look at the view. Morgan’s is spread out in front of me.’

‘You haven’t been gone that long, Elliott. It hasn’t changed.’

‘I want you to understand that I know exactly what I’m taking on by loving you. The whole Morgan package.’

Her heart plunged to her stomach and then did its best to beat there, awkwardly wedged below her diaphragm. Her breath grew laboured. Excruciatingly so.

Loving you?

‘America was agony, Laney, despite your brother’s best attempts at being good company. I should have been ecstatic—we were slaying the opposition and signing memoranda of understanding everywhere we went—but the only time my spirits lifted above sea level was when Owen spoke about you. Or gave me news about you from home. Eventually it got so bad he’d intentionally hold back snippets to give me just before we walked into an appointment. So I’d be on my game.’

‘We need to talk...’
her brother had vowed when she’d left home earlier today. She’d thought he meant about their own relationship, but maybe he was wanting to tell her about Elliott.

Loving you
.

But years of protection were hard to walk away from. ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying I understand what I’m accepting by loving you. All of that land. All of that heritage. I understand what I’m giving up, too, and I want you to believe that I’m ready to do it. I have nothing of value in the city. Everything I need is right here on this lookout.’

Elation threatened to lift her two feet above his plush leather seats. But still she couldn’t trust it. ‘What about parasailing?’

Big hands framed her face, stroked the ridges of her cheekbones. ‘Hmm, good point. Okay, you and parasailing are the only things that I love. Conveniently, both of which I can have on the peninsula.’

‘You’ll go mad sitting on the farm,’ she breathed, and it was far more wobbly than she preferred. ‘Like Owen.’

‘I wouldn’t have to sit. I could be like one of your worker bees, flying out, strengthening the business, then returning to the property.’ He brushed a lock of hair back from her face. ‘Returning to my Queen.’

Well...
Could she trust this to be real? ‘With a stomach full of nectar?’

‘And pollen balls wadded up under my armpits.’

A smile broke through entirely without her permission and she realised that, yes, she could trust this moment. More importantly, she could trust this man.

She wriggled more comfortably into his arms. ‘You think you can just swan in and exploit all our hard work to make an easy fortune?’

‘You think life with you is going to be easy? Pfff...’ He kissed her, fast and hard. ‘Besides, I’m not swanning in. I’m buying in. At great expense. I want to be a Morgan’s partner, regardless.’

‘Regardless of what?’

‘Of whether you love me back or not.’

She kept her lashes low in case her traitorous eyes broadcast her thoughts. ‘You doubt my feelings?’

‘I don’t know what to think. You’re protecting yourself.’

‘Does that surprise you?’

‘No, I definitely get it. But I’m not taking anything for granted. Even if it’s all too soon between us now, we have years of working together—as partners—to get to know each other fully. Maybe I can make some headway on winning you over.’

As if that ship hadn’t sailed weeks ago.

‘How?’

‘By loving you. And believing in you. And returning to you on the trade winds like the good drone that I am.’

She found his mouth with her fingers and then kissed him long and hard. When she was done she spoke against his lips. ‘If you’re a drone, that means we only get one night together. And that’s not going to be nearly enough.’

‘If that’s all I get, I’ll take it.’

‘And what if I want you to have more?’

His arms circled more tightly around her and his thighs pressed flat against hers. ‘Then I’m yours. However much—or little—you want.’

‘You think I might not want more?’

‘I just don’t want to make any assumptions.’

No. Because she hadn’t given him any reason not to yet. Time for that to change.

‘I love you, Elliott. As fast and crazy as that seems. You are the most important person in my life.’

Laney’s senses reeled as he plunged his fingers into her hair and his lips half devoured hers.

But then the spinning slowed and he pulled slightly away. ‘Wait a minute—do you mean the most important
non-hairy
person in your world?’

Wilbur.
‘Is that going to be a problem?’

‘Whatever it takes. Just so long as you will always be my Queen.’

EPILOGUE

Four years later

T
HE
HIGH
-
PITCHED
SQUEALS
and delirious barking merged together into one of Laney’s most favourite sounds as she sat, her hand resting gently on a curve of stones, atop her favourite hill, occasionally visited by bees from her favourite hive.

Best sound ever.

A girl and her dog.

Running and playing and just loving each other so intensely. Even though he wasn’t technically her dog to love. Even though he had a serious job to do.

Those kinds of distinctions were meaningless when you were three years old.

All little Ashleigh Morgan Garvey cared about was that her three great loves loved her back:
Mummy,
who gave her the best cuddle death hugs of all time,
Daddy,
who let her sneak into bed with them for three nights straight after every plane trip away, and her ‘
woof buddy’,
who was the most grown-up three-year-old Ashleigh had ever met.

Born the same year as Ashleigh and delivered fully assistance-trained—and festooned in a bow on the day of the ceremony they’d very belatedly got around to organising—Toby had been a wedding gift from her husband, who’d recognised what she’d been unable to admit.

The future.

Laney sipped at the cup of tea in her right hand and patted the stones by her thigh as she so often did. And—as it so often did—it brought her peace and comfort and an incredible feeling of rightness with the world.

Her beautiful husband—who was away as much as Morgan’s needed but at home every other waking minute—had helped her collect every rock. He’d made the jarrah cross and then helped her engrave the letters with her own hands—not perfectly level, not even properly punctuated, but every letter packed with love and devotion. And he’d held her tight and patient in his arms as she’d cried her heart out at the loss of the first great love of her life.

Wilbur.
‘Toby!’

A split-second warning before fifteen kilograms of puppy-at-heart splashed warm tea all over her hand. And then he was off again. Being a regular dog, because his harness was off. She rested her mug on the ground.

‘Hello, Wilbur,’ Ashleigh whispered to the stones, slumping down into her mother’s lap and tucking her little arms around her.

They sat there like that for priceless, precious moments, and a glow more blazing and complete than any other she’d known filled her consciousness.

‘Daddy’s coming,’ Ashleigh said in hot little breaths under her jaw, as much a scene-setter as her grandmother. ‘He’s got some papers.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I love Daddy.’

Laney smiled and rubbed her left thumb on her daughter’s cheek. ‘Me, too, chicken.’

‘What am I missing?’ Elliott’s deep, sexy voice rumbled as he bent and plucked his daughter from her lap.

Laney leaned back into the strength of his long legs the same way she leaned back into his arms—his chest—in front of the fire in their timber house up near the lookout.

‘Just two girls chatting about the men they love.’

‘Girl-talk, huh? I guess I should get used to it. I’ve got a lifetime of it ahead.’

Laney put one hand on her belly and the other brushed again over the smooth stones on Wilbur’s grave. Both touches as comforting as each other. ‘You never know. This one might be a boy.’

‘Not a chance.’ Elliott’s honey voice rained down on her. ‘Our little colony is going to be as female-dominated as a hive. I can feel it.’

‘Would you mind?’

‘Nope. Not if they’re all as clever and strong as you.’

‘And if they’re not?’

‘Then they’ll be unique in some other way. And I’ll love them just as much. No matter what.’

No matter what.

No expectations, no conditions, no pressure. Just love and support. Just as it should be.

She leaned back into him and let the glow surge, growing and engulfing everyone and everything around them. Elliott, Ashleigh and her unborn sibling, and Wilbur’s final resting place. The emotional brightness brought moisture to her sightless eyes, but it was a good kind of damp—the best kind—and she decided that, if nothing else,
that’s
what her eyes were good for.

For loving her family.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt from THE RETURNING HERO by Soraya Lane.