Wanted by Her Lost Love (11 page)

K
elly woke to find Ryan gone from bed. She rolled to check the clock on the nightstand and realized why she was alone. It was after nine and Ryan would have long since gone into the office.

When they'd returned from St. Angelo, Kelly had moved into Ryan's room. It wasn't as though a big production had been made. He'd simply carried her luggage into his room. And when it was time for bed, he'd carried her to his bed.

And she'd stayed.

How easily they'd fallen back into a comfortable routine. Just like before.

Before, it had been easy to take for granted the rapport between them. The comfort and trust. She hadn't known then as she knew now how quickly things could be broken.

Even now she questioned how it could have happened.

There was always an excuse, a reason. He hadn't loved her enough. He hadn't trusted her. Their relationship was too new to weather something so difficult.

But no matter the reason, the end result had been the same. When things had gotten difficult, their relationship had crumbled like stale bread.

It didn't speak well for their future.

But she wouldn't think of that right now. Sure, it was stupid of her to allow herself to have such faith in him. But hope was a powerful thing. It made a person willingly blind to the truth.

She kept telling herself maybe this time…

Maybe this time they would truly get things right. Even if it meant forever bearing the burden of having the man she loved think she'd betrayed him with another man. His brother.

So many times she wanted to confront him. She wanted to try again to make him listen to her. Make him hear the truth. But each time she bit her lip because what purpose would it serve?

He might not believe her. He might. But would it change anything in the past? Would it change their future?

It wouldn't even make her feel any better because she knew the truth. Ryan believed she'd lied to him but he wanted to forget and move on. Was she an idiot to want more than that? Was she stupid to want him to know how wrong he'd been?

It was a dilemma that plagued her every single day that she and Ryan were back together. Part of her wanted to make him listen and to demand that he accept that he'd been wrong if he expected her to give this whole thing another shot.

Another part of her told her that her pride and her anger were barriers to her own happiness.

Wasn't a life with Ryan what she ultimately wanted? Did it matter how she achieved that goal?

She stared up at the ceiling as she lay in bed.

Yeah, it did. It really did. She couldn't go through their life together knowing it was in the back of Ryan's mind that she'd slept with someone else when she'd promised to be faithful to him.

She had to accept that what she really feared was that when she did confront Ryan, he'd reject her all over again, and if that happened, she knew she couldn't spend her life with someone who didn't trust her.

She was a coward, but it was the cold, hard truth that fear was what held her back. Not pride. Not anything else. She knew that if he didn't believe her this time they could never be together.

Not wanting the weight of anxiety to bear down on her today, she shook the bleak thoughts from her mind and crawled out of bed. She padded into the living room to see that Ryan had turned the fire on for her.

To her further surprise, she found a breakfast tray waiting for her on the table with bagels, cheese and an assortment of fruit.

But what caught her eye was the tiny pair of yellow baby booties.

She picked up the soft, fuzzy little booties, her throat knotting as she read the accompanying card.

Because you said you didn't have a pair yet. Love, Ryan.

She sank into the seat, her eyes stinging with tears. She held the booties to her cheek and then touched the card, tracing the scrawl of his signature.

“I shouldn't love you this much,” she whispered. God, but she couldn't help herself. She craved him. He was her other half. She didn't feel whole without him.

And so began a courting ritual that tugged on her heartstrings.

Every morning when she crawled out of bed, there was a new present waiting for her from Ryan.

There was a baby book that outlined everything she could expect from birth through the first year of life. One morning he left her two outfits. One for a boy and one for a girl.
Just in case,
he had written.

On the fifth morning, he simply left her a note that told her a gift was waiting in the extra bedroom.

Excited, she hurried toward the bedroom she'd once occupied and threw open the door to see not one present but a room full of baby things.

A stroller. A crib that was already put together. A little bouncy thing. An assortment of toys. A changing table. She couldn't take in all the stuff that was there. She didn't even know what all of it was for.

How on earth had he managed to sneak this in without her hearing?

And there by the window was a rocking chair with a yellow afghan lying over the arm. She walked over and reverently touched the wood, giving the chair an experimental push.

It creaked once and then swayed gently back and forth.

Already her feet protested her being up, so she moved the blanket and sat, staring around at the room full of treasures for their child.

She had been more tired in the past couple of days, but she'd been careful not to worry Ryan. He'd worked so hard to make each day special for her.

If possible, she had fallen more deeply in love with him than ever before.

Tonight was the dinner with his friends and his mother, but even that couldn't dim her excitement or her happiness. And maybe that had been his plan all along. To take extra measures to make sure she knew that he supported her against any possible animosity or disdain.

It had certainly worked, because she couldn't imagine
anything they could do or say that would make the cloud she walked on evaporate.

Ryan cared about her. He wanted to marry her. What else mattered?

She hugged that thought to her later as she picked through her clothing, trying to find the perfect outfit to wear to the dinner.

Before, it wouldn't even occur to her that an outfit was too sexy or revealing. If it looked good on her, and if she knew Ryan would like it, that was her only criteria.

But now she worried that with the sentiment already being that she was a…slut…she would merely perpetuate that belief if she wore anything that wasn't ultraconservative. And that pissed her off. She shouldn't care what these people thought of her. But it wasn't that easy. They were important to Ryan and Ryan was important to her.

Warm hands suddenly stole over her body, sliding around to her belly. She was drawn into a hard chest and sensual lips nibbled at her neck.

She sighed and relaxed into Ryan, her pulse speeding up.

“Is there a particular reason you're standing in your closet staring at your clothes?” he murmured against her ear.

She turned and laced her arms around his neck as she rose up on tiptoe to kiss him. “You're home early.”

“Couldn't wait to see you. So what's with the closet?”

Her lips twisted into a frown and she let out a disgruntled sigh. “Just trying to find something to wear tonight. Something that doesn't make me look like the tramp they think I am.”

Ryan's expression gentled and he trailed a finger over her cheekbone. Taking her arms, he backed out of her
closet and toward the bed until the back of his legs bumped against the mattress.

He sat down and pulled her down with him.

“You'll look beautiful no matter what you wear. Stop worrying so much.”

“I know. It's silly. I can't help it. I'm nervous.”

“I don't want you to worry, Kell. The past is in the past. I don't know that I've ever said the words, but I forgive you. And if I can forgive you then they should be able to do the same.”

She went completely still. Pain jolted through her chest as if someone had stabbed her. Not that she knew what it felt like but it couldn't be worse than this.

He forgave her.

For something she'd never done. For something he refused to believe she hadn't done.

It took all the strength she possessed not to react, not to lash out. He hadn't said it to hurt her. but he couldn't possibly imagine how much she was bleeding inside right now.

He was trying to do the generous thing. He was trying to make her feel at ease.

He kissed her gently on the brow. “We both made mistakes. I'm not blameless. The important thing is that we never let what happened in the past happen again.”

Numbly she nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak. What could she say?

She closed her eyes and leaned into him. He hugged her to him and rubbed his hand up and down her back. He offered comfort. He thought she was worked up about tonight. How could he possibly know that his “forgiveness” made her want to die?

He eased her to the side until she was perched on the edge of the bed and then he stood and walked into the
closet. After a moment, he returned with a gorgeous, midnight-blue dress. He held it up and smiled.

“This one would look fantastic on you.”

She struggled to collect her shattered senses and pretend that nothing was wrong.

“It's awfully…clingy,” she said. “I'd look eleven months' pregnant in it.”

“I love your belly,” he said in an ultrasexy voice that sent shivers down her spine. “I love that this shows the world you're pregnant with my baby. You'll look gorgeous. Wear it for me.”

There wasn't a woman alive who could refuse a request like that. She nodded silently, her heart aching all the while.

He laid the dress carefully on the bed and then bent down to kiss her once more.

“I'll leave you to get ready. The driver will be here for us in an hour.”

She clung to him a little longer than was necessary but he didn't seem to mind. He touched her cheek as he pulled away and then walked toward the bathroom, loosening his tie as he went.

She stared at the dress. It was a fabulous creation. And it would definitely highlight her pregnancy, something Ryan seemed very keen on.

She closed her eyes. He forgave her. She wanted to weep.

It should be her who had to offer forgiveness. Not him.

K
elly swallowed her mounting dread as she and Ryan entered the restaurant. Ryan spoke in low tones to the maître d' and then they were ushered to a table in the back.

Ryan broke into a broad smile when he saw Rafael already seated next to a woman Kelly assumed was his wife, Bryony. Ryan's mother was also seated, as were Devon and Cameron. Just great. They were last to arrive, and so they made an “entrance.”

Kelly stood by Ryan's side as he greeted everyone, then said, “Of course, you all remember Kelly. Except for you, Bryony.”

He turned to Kelly. “Kelly, this is Bryony de Luca, Rafael's wife. Bryony, this is my fiancée, Kelly Christian.”

The room went absolutely silent at his declaration. The expressions ranged from his mother's ill-disguised horror to outright disbelief on his friends' faces.

Even Bryony looked skeptical as she rose to extend her hand to Kelly. It was then that Kelly noticed that Bryony appeared every bit as pregnant as Kelly was.

“It's nice to meet you,” Bryony said with what looked to be a forced smile.

Hell, how much could Bryony possibly know about Kelly anyway? It wasn't as if she'd been around for that long. But she, like the others, didn't appear to roll out the welcome mat.

Kelly offered a nervous smile and allowed Ryan to seat her. This was going to be a long night.

“How are you, Kelly?” Devon asked politely.

He was seated next to her and she supposed common courtesy dictated his question.

“I'm good,” she replied in a low voice. “Nervous.”

He seemed surprised by her honesty.

Ryan conversed with his friends and his mother. Kelly sat quietly beside him and watched the goings-on around her. No one tried to include her in conversation and the one time she offered a comment, the awkward silence that ensued told her all she needed to know.

They were tolerating her for Ryan's sake, but she didn't miss the looks they cast in his direction when they thought she wasn't watching. Looks that plainly said,
Are you crazy?

By the time the food was served, she was extremely grateful to have something to focus on. She felt out of place. She felt conspicuous. This was going down as one of the worst nights of her life and she was counting the minutes until she and Ryan could make their escape.

The food felt dry in her mouth. Her stomach churned and after only a few bites, she gave up trying to force herself to eat. Instead, she sipped at her water and pretended she was back on the beach with Ryan, about to dance underneath the moonlight.

That was her problem. She was living in a fantasy world, avoiding reality. And reality sucked. Her reality
was sitting here at a dinner table while five other people judged her. Her reality was living with a man—a man she intended to marry—who felt he needed to forgive her for sins she hadn't committed.

At what point in her life had she decided she didn't deserve better than this?

It was a startling discovery. The blinders had come off.

Why was she putting up with this?

She was prepared to end the entire thing when she looked up and saw Jarrod walk to the table. He leaned over and kissed his mom then held up a hand in greeting to the others before turning his gaze on her and Ryan.

She broke into a cold sweat. Ryan stiffened beside her and the others fell silent.

It was as if everyone in the room waited for the inevitable fireworks. Her head pounded viciously. Her stomach cramped and she wanted to die from the humiliation. More than that, she was so furious she couldn't see straight.

“Sorry, I'm late,” he said. “I got caught in traffic.”

As he took the empty chair beside his mother, bile rose in Kelly's throat. Her heart was shredded. She was bleeding on the inside, so hurt, so devastated she wanted to die. She refused to look at Ryan. How could he have done it? She didn't believe for a moment that Ryan had actually invited his brother…had he? But why hadn't he made it clear that he wasn't welcome?

Everyone stared at her. They likely thought she deserved whatever humiliation was heaped upon her tonight. But she refused to look back at them. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her so shattered.

Instead her gaze locked onto Jarrod Beardsley and his mother.

How they must hate her. The coldness in Ramona Beardsley's eyes reached out to Kelly. They said,
You'll never win. I'll never let you.

What had she ever done besides love Ryan? Enough was enough.

Kelly deserved better.

She was through paying penance.

She was done with being looked down on, condemned and
forgiven.

Forcing a smile in Ryan's direction, she pushed back her chair and slowly rose as if she hadn't a care in the world. She stared across the table at Jarrod and his mother and let the full force of her hatred shine. She didn't care if they ever accepted her. She didn't accept them. They could both go to hell. She'd buy them a first-class ticket.

Then she turned to face the entire table. “I'm done here. You've all sat and stared your disapproval. You've sent pitying glances Ryan's way. You've judged me and found me not good enough. To hell with all of you.”

Then she turned back to Jarrod, her voice coming out in a low hiss. “You son of a bitch. You stay away from me and my child. I'll see you in hell before I ever let you near me again.”

Ryan started to rise, but she shoved him back into his seat. “By all means, you stay. You wouldn't want to disappoint your family and friends.”

Before he could react, she stalked away.

She bypassed the doorway leading to the bathrooms and kept on walking. She burst into the cold, shivering because she hadn't bothered to collect her coat. She embraced the chill, welcomed the cold slap in the face.

Her head had ached all afternoon, but after spending the past hour with her teeth gritted and her jaw tight, the headache had exploded into vicious pain.

She walked a block before the cold penetrated the thin layers of her dress. She stopped and waved at a passing
cab but it didn't stop. It took two more attempts before she managed to get one to pull over for her.

She was barely able to get out Ryan's address before the tears started to fall.

 

Ryan's first thought was to go after Kelly, but he was furious, and this had to be ended now. Like hell he'd ever allow anyone to make Kelly feel the way she'd obviously felt tonight. He bolted to his feet, palms smacking the table as he lunged toward his brother.

“What the hell was that?”

He included his mother in his furious gaze, not backing down when she recoiled from his anger.

Jarrod looked taken aback, his face pale. He looked sick, but at this point Ryan didn't care. He'd had enough. This was a huge mistake and he wasn't going to let it go this time. He never should have let it go. Never should have played down the obvious discord between Kelly and his family.

Their mother leaned forward, her expression tight. “Don't be angry with him, Ryan. I invited him. If you insist on a relationship with this woman we're going to have to sit down together at some point. Or do you plan never to see your family? Hasn't she caused us enough pain?”

Ryan let out a curse that made his mother flinch. “Haven't you hurt her enough? It ends tonight. I'm done with this. I'm done subjecting Kelly to your insensitivity and your blatant attempts to drive us apart.”

Then he turned in his friends' direction. “Rafael, it was good to see you and Bryony again. I hope to see you before you leave the city.”

He nodded at Devon and Cam, who looked as if they'd rather be anyplace but where they were. That made three of them.

“Sorry, man,” Devon murmured.

Not sparing his mother or brother a second glance, Ryan left the table and went in search of Kelly, hoping she hadn't made it past the door yet. He'd take her home, apologize profusely and then he'd promise that he wouldn't subject her to another gathering of his friends and family.

He shouldn't have this time but he'd hoped… He wasn't sure what he'd hoped but he'd been a damn fool and he'd hurt Kelly in the process.

He stalked toward the coatroom, but found Kelly's coat still hanging. Then he hurried toward the entrance, but found no sign of her there either. Dread tightened his gut.

“Did you see a pregnant woman leave? Short, blond, wearing a blue dress?” he demanded of the maître d'.

“Yes, sir. She walked out just a few seconds ago.”

Ryan swore. “Did you see which way she went?”

“No, I'm sorry, but you might ask outside to see if anyone got her a cab.”

Ryan hurried into the night, praying she'd gone home. But what if she hadn't? What if she'd finally had enough and said to hell with him and everyone else?

After being told that Kelly was seen walking down the street, Ryan panicked and took off at a run. Fear lanced through him at the idea of her being out alone, upset, on her feet when she had no business walking such a distance.

He brushed by countless people and then he saw her just ahead, getting into a cab at the next block. He yelled her name, but the door shut and the cab drove off—leaving him standing on the sidewalk, his heart about to explode out of his chest.

He waved at a passing cab, frustrated when it didn't slow. The next one stopped and he climbed in, directing the driver to his address. The entire way back to his apartment he prayed that she'd be there.

When the cab pulled up to his apartment building, he got out and hurried toward the door. When he reached the doorman, he stopped.

“Did you see Miss Christian come in a few minutes ago?”

The doorman nodded. “Yes, sir. She got here just before you arrived.”

Relief staggered him. He bolted for the elevator. A few moments later, he strode into the apartment.

“Kelly? Kelly, honey, where are you?”

Not waiting for an answer, he hurried into the bedroom to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, her face pale and drawn in pain. When she heard him, she looked up and he winced at the dullness in her eyes.

She'd been crying.

“I thought I could do it,” she said in a raw voice, before he could beg her forgiveness. “I thought I could just go on and forget and that I could accept others thinking the worst of me as long as you and I were okay again. I did myself a huge disservice.”

“Kelly…”

Something in her look silenced him and he stood several feet away, a feeling of helplessness gripping him as he watched her try to compose herself.

“I sat there tonight while your friends and your mother looked at me in disgust, while they looked at you with a mixture of pity and disbelief in their eyes. All because you took me back. The tramp who betrayed you in the worst possible manner. And I thought to myself I don't deserve this. I've
never
deserved it. I deserve better.”

She raised her eyes to his and he flinched at the horrible pain he saw reflected there. Then she laughed. A raw, terrible sound that grated across his ears.

“And earlier tonight you forgave me. You stood there
and told me it no longer mattered what happened in the past because you
forgave
me and you wanted to move forward.”

She curled her fingers into tight balls and rage flared in her eyes. She stood and stared him down even as tears ran in endless streams down her cheeks.

“Well, I don't forgive
you.
Nor can I forget that you betrayed me in the worst way a man can betray the woman he's supposed to love and be sworn to protect.”

He took a step back, reeling from the fury in her voice. His eyes narrowed. “You don't forgive
me?
”

“I told you the truth that day,” she said hoarsely, her voice cracking under the weight of her tears. “I begged you to believe me. I got down on my knees and
begged
you. And what did you do? You wrote me a damn check and told me to get out.”

He took another step back, his hand going to his hair. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. So much of that day was a blur. He remembered her on her knees, her tear-stained face, how she put her hand on his leg and whispered, “Please don't do this.”

It made him sick. He never wanted to go back to the way he felt that day, but somehow this was worse because there was something terribly wrong in her eyes and in her voice. “Your brother
assaulted
me. He
forced
himself on me. I didn't invite his attentions. I wore the bruises from his attack for two weeks.
Two weeks.
I was so stunned by what he'd done that all I could think about was getting to you. I knew you'd fix it. You'd protect me. You'd take care of me. I knew you'd make it right. All I could think about was running to you. And, oh God, I did and you looked right through me.”

The sick knot in his stomach grew and his chest tightened so much he couldn't breathe.

“You wouldn't listen,” she said tearfully. “You wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. You'd already made your mind up.”

He swallowed and closed the distance between them, worried that she'd fall if he didn't make her sit. But she shook him off and turned her back, her shoulders heaving as her quiet sobs fell over the room.

“I'm listening now, Kelly,” he forced out. “Tell me what happened. I'll believe you. I swear.”

But he knew. He already knew. So much of that day was replaying over and over in his head and suddenly he was able to see so clearly what he'd refused to see before.

And it was killing him.

His brother had lied to him after all. Not just lied but he'd carefully orchestrated the truth and twisted it so cleverly that Ryan had been completely deceived.

Then she turned, her beautiful eyes haunted, defeated. “It doesn't matter if you believe me anymore,” she whispered. “You wouldn't believe me when it
mattered.
He tried to rape me. He assaulted me. He touched me. He hurt me. And when I fought him off and told him that I would tell you what he'd done, he told me he'd make sure you never believed a word of any of it.