Her Exquisite Surrender: Surrendering All But Her Heart / Innocent in the Ivory Tower / Full Surrender

A hysterical bubble of laughter almost choked her. ‘Yeah, right—like I don’t already know that,’ she said with bitter irony.

His frown gave him a dark and forbidding look. ‘You said you weren’t a strong swimmer. I thought I should be with you if you fancied a dip to cool off.’

Natalie hid behind the smokescreen of her sarcasm. ‘What were you going to do if I got into trouble?’ she asked. ‘Give me mouth to mouth?’

The atmosphere changed as if someone had flicked a switch.

His eyes smouldered as they tussled with hers. ‘What a good idea,’ he said, grasping her by the arms and bringing her roughly against him, covering her mouth with his.

His mouth tasted of brandy and hot male frustration. He was angry with her, but she could cope much better with his anger than his tenderness. He disarmed her with his concern and understanding.

She wanted him mad at her.

She wanted him wild with her.

She could handle that. She could pull against his push. She could survive the onslaught of his sensual touch if she could compartmentalise it as a simple battle of wills, not as a strategic war against her very soul.

His lips ground against hers as his hands gripped her upper arms, his fingers biting into her flesh. She relished the discomfort. She was in the mood for pain. She kissed him back, with her teeth and her tongue taking turns. She felt him flinch as her teeth drew blood, and he punished her by driving his tongue all the harder against hers until she finally submitted.

She let him have his way for a few breathless seconds before she tried a counter-attack. She took his lower lip between her teeth and held on.

He spun her around, so her back was facing the pool, and with no more warning than the sound of his feet moving against the flagstones he tangled his legs with hers so she lost her footing. She opened her mouth on a startled gasp, fell backwards and disappeared under the water, taking him with her.

She came up coughing and spluttering; panic was like a madman inside her chest, fighting its way out any way it could. She felt the sickening hammer blows of her heart. She felt the acrid sting of chlorine in her eyes. She was choking against the water she had swallowed. It burned the back of her throat like acid.

‘You … you bastard!’ she screamed at him like a virago.

He pushed the wet hair out of his eyes and laughed. ‘You asked for it.’

She came at him then. Hands in fists and teeth bared, she fell upon him, not caring if she drew blood or worse. She called him every foul name she could think of, the words pouring out of her like a vitriolic flood.

He simply held her aloft, and none of her blows and kicks came to anything but impotent splashes against and below the water.

Suddenly it was all too much.

The fight went out of her. She felt the dismantling of her spirit like starch being rinsed out of a piece of fabric. She went as limp as a rag doll.

‘Do you give up?’ he asked, with a victorious glint in his dark eyes.

‘I give up …’

His brows moved together and his smile faded. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

‘Nothing,’ she said tonelessly. ‘Can I get out now? I—I’m getting cold.’

‘Sure,’ he said, releasing her, his gaze watchful.

Natalie waded to the edge of the pool. She didn’t bother searching for the steps. She gripped the side and hauled herself out in an ungainly fashion. She stood well back from the side and wrung her hair out like a rope, and pushed it back over her shoulder. It wasn’t cold, but she was shivering as if she had been immersed for hours in the Black Sea.

Angelo elevated himself out of the pool with a lot more athletic grace than she had. He came and stood in front of her, his hand capturing her juddering chin so he could hold her gaze. ‘You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?’ he asked.

She flashed him a resentful look. ‘It would be your fault if I had.’

‘I would never have pushed you in if I didn’t think it was safe,’ he said. ‘The water is deepest this end.’

She wrenched her chin out of his grasp and rubbed at it furiously. ‘What if it had been the other end?’ she asked. ‘I could’ve been knocked out or even killed.’

‘I would never deliberately hurt you, cara.’

‘Not physically, maybe,’ she said, throwing him a speaking glance.

A little smiled pulled up the corners of his mouth. ‘So you’re feeling a little threatened emotionally?’ he asked.

She glowered at him. ‘Not at all.’

His smile tilted further. ‘It’s the sex, cara,’ he said. ‘Did you know that the oxytocin released at orgasm is known as the bonding hormone? It makes people fall in love.’

She gave him a disparaging look. ‘If that’s true then why haven’t you been in love with anyone since we were together? It’s not as if you haven’t been having loads and loads of sex.’

His eyes held hers in a toe-curling lock. ‘Ah, but there is sex and there is sex.’ His gaze flicked to her mouth, pausing there for a heartbeat before coming back to make love with her eyes.

Natalie felt her hips and spine soften. She felt the stirring of her pulse, the tap-tap-tap of her blood as it coursed through her veins. It sent a primal message to the innermost heart of her femininity, making it contract tightly with need.

‘But you’re not in love with me,’ she said, testing him. ‘You just want revenge.’

He stroked a light, teasing fingertip down the length of her bare arm, right to the back of her hand, before he captured her fingers in his and brought her close to his body. She felt the shock of touching him thigh to thigh like a stun gun. It sent a wave of craving through her that almost knocked her off her feet.

‘I love what you do to me,’ he said. ‘I love how you make me feel.’

She could barely think with his erection pressing so enticingly against her. Her body seeped with need. She felt the humid dew of it between her thighs. She looked up in time to see his mouth come down. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to his devastatingly sensual kiss.

His lips moved with hot urgency against hers, drawing from her a response that was just as fiery. Her tongue met his and duelled with it, danced with it, mated with it. Shivers of reaction washed over her body. She pressed herself closer, wanting that thrill of the flesh to block out the pain of the past.

But suddenly he put her from him. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not falling for that again.’

Natalie looked at him in confusion. ‘You don’t want to …?’

He gave her a wry look. ‘Of course I want to,’ he said. ‘But I’m not going to until you tell me why you were out here, wandering about like a sleepwalker.’

Her gaze slipped out of the range of his. ‘I wasn’t doing any such thing.’

He pushed her chin up with a finger and thumb. ‘Yes, you were,’ he said, his gaze determined as it pinned hers. ‘And I want to know why.’

Natalie felt her stomach churning and her shivering turned to shuddering. ‘I told you. I often have trouble sleeping,’ she said.

His eyes continued to delve into hers. ‘What plays on your mind so much that you can’t settle?’

She licked her dry lips. ‘Nothing.’

His brow lifted sceptically. ‘I want the truth, Natalie. You owe me that, don’t you think?’

‘I owe you nothing,’ she said, with a flash of her gaze.

His eyes tussled with hers. ‘If you won’t tell me then I’ll have to find someone who will,’ he said. ‘And I have a feeling it won’t take too much digging.’

Natalie swallowed in panic. If he went looking for answers it might stir up a press fest. She could just imagine the way the papers would run with it. She would have to relive every heartbreaking moment of that fateful trip. Her mother would be devastated to have her terrible loss splashed all over the headlines. Her father had managed to keep things quiet all those years ago, but it would be fair game now, in today’s tell-all climate.

And then there was Lachlan to consider.

How would he feel to have the world know he was nothing but a replacement child? That he had only been conceived to fill the shoes of the lost Armitage son and heir?

She ran her tongue over her lips, fighting for time, for strength, for courage. ‘I … I made a terrible mistake … a few years back …’ She bit down on her lip, not sure if she could go on.

‘Tell me about it, Natalie.’

Oh, dear God, could she tell him? How could she bear his shock and horror? Those tender looks he had been giving her lately would disappear. How she had missed those looks! He was the only person in the world who looked at her like that.

‘Tatty?’

It was the way he said his pet name for her. It was her undoing. How could one simple word dismantle all her defences like a row of dominoes pushed by a fingertip? It was as if he had the key to her heart.

He had always had it.

He hadn’t realised it the first time around, but now it was like the childhood game of hot and cold. He was getting warmer and warmer with every moment he spent with her.

Natalie slowly brought her gaze up to look at him head-on. This is it, she thought with a sinkhole of despair opening up inside her. This is the last time you will ever see him look at you like that. Remember it. Treasure it.

‘I killed my brother.’

A confused frown pulled at his forehead. ‘Your brother is fine, Natalie. He’s safe and sound in rehab.’

‘Not that brother,’ she said. ‘My baby brother, Liam. He drowned while we were holidaying in Spain … he was three years old.’

His frown was so deeply entrenched on his brow it looked as if it would become permanent. ‘How could that have been your fault?’ he asked.

‘I was supposed to be watching him,’ she said hollowly. ‘My mother had gone inside to lie down. My father was there with us by the pool, but then he said he had to make a really important business call. He was only gone five minutes. I was supposed to be watching Liam. I’d done it before. I was always looking out for him. But that day … I don’t know what happened. I think something or other distracted me for a moment. A bird, a flower, a butterfly—I don’t know what. When my father came back …’ She gave an agonised swallow as the memories came flooding back. ‘It was too late …’

‘Dear God! Why didn’t you tell me this five years ago?’ he asked. ‘You never mentioned a thing about having lost a brother. Why on earth didn’t you say something?’

‘It’s not something anyone in my family talks about. My father strictly forbade it. He thought it upset my mother too much. It was so long ago even the press have forgotten about it. Lachlan was the replacement child. As soon as he was born every photo, every bit of clothing or any toys that were Liam’s were destroyed or given away. It was as if he had never existed.’

Angelo took her by the upper arms, his hold firm—almost painfully so. ‘You were not to blame for Liam’s death,’ he said. ‘You were a baby yourself. Your parents were wrong to lay that guilt on you.’

She looked into his dark brown eyes and saw comfort and understanding, not blame and condemnation. It made her eyes water uncontrollably. The tears came up from a well deep inside her. There was nothing she could do to hold them back. They bubbled up and spilled over in a gushing torrent. She hurtled forward into the wall of his chest, sobbing brokenly as his arms came around her and held her close.

‘I tried to find him as soon as I noticed he wasn’t beside me,’ she said. ‘It was barely a few seconds before I realised he was gone. I looked and looked around the gardens by the pool, but I didn’t see him. He was at the bottom of the pool. I didn’t see him. I didn’t see him …’

‘My poor little Tatty,’ he soothed against her hair, rocking her gently with the shelter of his frame. ‘You were not to blame, cara. You were not to blame.’

Natalie cried until she was totally spent. She told him other things as she hiccupped her way through another round of sobs. She told him of how she had seen Liam’s tiny coffin being loaded on the plane. How the plane had hit some turbulence and how terrified she had been that his tiny body would be lost for ever. How she had sat in that wretched shuddering seat and wished she had been the one to drown. How her father had not said a word to her the whole way home. How her mother had sat in a blank state, drinking every drink the flight crew handed her.

She didn’t know how much time passed before she eased back out of his hold and looked up at him through reddened and sore eyes. ‘I must look a frightful mess,’ she said.

He looked down at her with one of his warm and tender looks. ‘I think you look beautiful.’

She felt a fresh wave of tears spouting like a fountain. ‘You see?’ she said as she brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. ‘This is why I never cry. It’s too damn hard to stop.’

He brushed the damp hair off her face, his gaze still meltingly soft. ‘You can cry all you want or need to, mia piccola,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with showing emotion. It’s a safety valve, si? It’s not good to suppress it for too long.’

She gave him a rueful look. ‘You always were far better at letting it all hang out than me,’ she said. ‘It used to scare me a bit … how incredibly passionate you were.’

He stroked her hair back from her face. ‘I seem to remember plenty of passion on your part too,’ he said.

‘Yes … well, you do seem to bring that out in me,’ she said.

His hands slid down to hers, his fingers warm and protective as they wrapped around hers. ‘I think it’s high time you were tucked up in bed, don’t you?’

Natalie shivered as his gaze communicated his desire for her. ‘You want to …?’

He scooped her up in his arms. ‘I want to,’ he said, and carried her indoors.

Angelo lay awake once Natalie had finally dozed off. It had taken a while. In the quiet period after they had made love she had told him how today was the actual anniversary of her baby brother’s death. It certainly explained her recent agitation and restlessness. He thought of her horrible nightmare the other night, how she had thrashed and turned and how worried he had been.

It all made sense now.

He still could not fathom why her parents had done such a heartless thing as to blame her for the tragic death of their little son. How could they have possibly expected a child of seven to be responsible enough to take care of a small child? It was unthinkably cruel to make her shoulder the blame. Why had they done it? What possible good did they think it would do to burden her with what was essentially their responsibility?

And where had the resort staff been?

Why hadn’t Adrian Armitage aimed his guilt-trip on them instead of his little daughter?

His gut churned with the anguish of what she must have faced. Why had she not told him before now? It hurt him to think she had kept that dark secret from him. He had loved her so passionately. He would have given her the world and yet she had not let him into her heart.

Until now.

But she hadn’t told him because she had trusted him.

He had forced it out of her.

He picked up her left hand and rolled the pad of his thumb over the rings he had made her wear.

He had sought revenge, but it wasn’t as sweet as he had thought. He hadn’t had all the facts on the table. How differently would he have acted if he had known?

His insides clenched with guilt. He had railroaded her into marriage, not stopping to think of the reasons why she had balked at it in the first place. He had not taken the time to understand her, to find the truth about why she was so prickly and defensive. He had not made enough of an effort to get to know her beyond the physical. He had allowed his lust for her to colour everything else.

He had listened to those barefaced lies from her father. Listened and believed them. How could he ever make it up to her? How could he show her there was a way through this if only she trusted and leaned on him?

Or was it already too late to turn things around?

Angelo brought in a tray with coffee and rolls the next morning and set it down beside her. She opened her eyes and sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. ‘I don’t expect you to wait on me,’ she said.

‘It’s no bother,’ he said. ‘I was up anyway.’

She took the cup of coffee he had poured for her. ‘Thanks,’ she said after a little pause.

‘You’re welcome.’

‘I meant about last night,’ she said, biting her lip.

Angelo sat on the edge of the bed near her thighs and took one of her hands in his. ‘Would you have eventually told me, do you think?’

She lifted one shoulder up and down. ‘Maybe—’ She twisted her mouth. ‘Probably not.’

‘I’ve been thinking about your parents,’ he said. ‘I’d like to meet with them to talk through this.’

She pulled her hand out of his. ‘No.’

‘Natalie, this can’t go on—’

‘No.’ Her slate blue eyes collided with his. ‘I don’t want you to try and fix things. You can’t fix this.’

‘Look, I understand this is a painful thing for all of you, but it’s not fair that you’ve been carrying this guilt for so long,’ he said. ‘Your parents need to face up to their part in it.’

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