Six
Jennie Lucas
JENNIE LUCAS grew up dreaming about faraway lands. At fifteen, hungry for experience beyond the borders of her small Idaho city, she went to a Connecticut boarding school on scholarship. She took her first solo trip to Europe at sixteen, then put off college and travelled around the U.S., supporting herself with jobs as diverse as petrol station cashier and newspaper advertising assistant.
At twenty-two, she met the man who would become her husband. After their marriage, she graduated from Kent State with a degree in English. Seven years after she started writing, she got the magical call from London that turned her into a published author.
Since then life has been hectic, with a new writing career, a sexy husband and two small children, but she’s having a wonderful (albeit sleepless) time. She loves immersing herself in dramatic, glamorous, passionate stories. Maybe she can’t physically travel to Morocco or Spain right now, but for a few hours a day, while her children are sleeping, she can be there in her books.
Jennie loves to hear from her readers. You can visit her website at www.jennielucas.com, or drop her a note at [email protected].
To Krystyn Gardner, my friend since childhood, maid of honour at my wedding – the bold, fearless soul who moved halfway round the world and convinced me to meet her there. Thanks, you crazy girl, for blazing a trail, and for always being in my corner.
THIS IS ALL I can give you, he said. No marriage. No children. All I can offer is—this. And he kissed me, feather-light, until I was holding my breath, trembling in his arms. Do you agree?
Yes, I whispered, my lips brushing against his. I hardly knew what I was saying. Hardly thought about the promise I was making and what it might cost me. I was too lost in the moment, lost in pleasure that made the world a million colors of twisting light.
Now, two months later, I'd just gotten news that changed everything.
As I went up the sweeping stairs of his London mansion, my heart was in my throat. A baby. I gripped the oak handrail as my shaking steps echoed down the hall. A baby. A little boy with Edward's eyes? An adorable little girl with his smile? Thinking of the sweet, precious baby soon to be nestled in my arms, a dazed smile lifted to my lips.
Then I remembered my promise.
My hands tightened. Would he think I'd somehow gotten pregnant on purpose? Tricking him into becoming a father against his will?
No. He wouldn't. Couldn't.
Could he?
The upstairs hallway was cold and dark. Just like Edward's heart. Because beneath his sensual charm, his soul was ice. I'd always known this, no matter how hard I'd tried not to know it.
I'd given him my body, which he wanted, and my heart, which he hadn't. Had I made the biggest mistake of my life?
Maybe he could change. I took a deep breath. If I could only believe that, once he knew about the baby, he might change—that he might someday love us both …
Reaching our bedroom, I slowly pushed open the door.
“You've kept me waiting,” Edward's voice was dangerous, coming from the shadows. “Come to bed, Diana.”
Come to bed.
Clenching my hands at my sides, I went forward into the dark.
Four Months Earlier
I WAS DYING.
After hours of being cooped up in the backseat of the chauffeured car, with the heat at full blast as the driver exceeded speed limits at every opportunity, the air felt oppressively hot. I rolled down the window to take a deep breath of fresh air and rain.
“You’ll catch your death,” the driver said sourly from the front. Almost the first words he’d spoken since he’d collected me from Heathrow.
“I need some fresh air,” I said apologetically.
He snorted, then mumbled something under his breath. Pasting a smile on my face, I looked out the window. Jagged hills cast a dark shadow over the lonely road, surrounded by a bleak moor drenched in thick wet mist. Cornwall was beautiful, like a dream. I’d come to the far side of the world. Which was what I’d wanted, wasn’t it?
In the twilight, the black silhouette of a distant crag looked like a ghostly castle, delineated against the red sun shimmering over the sea. I could almost hear the clang of swords from long-ago battles, hear the roar of bloodthirsty Saxons and Celts.
“Penryth Hall, miss.” The driver’s gruff voice was barely audible over the wind and rain. “Up ahead.”
Penryth Hall? With an intake of breath, I looked back at the distant crag. It wasn’t my imagination or a trick of mist. A castle was really there, illuminated by scattered lights, reflecting in a ghostly blur upon the dark scarlet sea.
As we drew closer, I squinted at the crenellated battlements. The place looked barely habitable, fit only for vampires or ghosts. For this, I’d left the sunshine and roses of California.
Blinking hard, I leaned back against the leather seat and exhaled, trying to steady my trembling hands. The smell of rain masked the sweet, slightly putrid scent of rotting autumn leaves, decaying fish and the salt of the ocean.
“For lord’s sake, miss, if you’ve had enough of the rain, up it goes.”
The
