Just Desserts (Holland Springs #4)

Just Desserts (Holland Springs #4) Page 29

He took a step towards her. “I’d lie, steal, and cheat to be with you. I’d pretend to be another man if it meant you’d give me one second of your time. If it meant I could show you another side of me, the one that I’m bloody terrified to show anyone but you.”

“You’d really do this to me again? Are you really that obsessed with me?”

“Hell yes,” he shouted. “I wanted you, I needed to have you, and by God, I got you. And. I. Would. Do. It. Again.”

“You-you—”

Another step and another, until he’d successfully backed her into the corner by the front door. “Let me put it another way, so you can understand the extreme depths of my obsession with you: I saw, I came inside of you—” He gently touched her belly and her hand caught him by the wrist, fingers tightening around it as his hand travelled lower, lower still to cup her through her skirt, “—and I conquered.”

“Conquered,” Daisy choked out. “You conquered me?”

No. You conquered me. But he was furious, he was a man, and he was a Romanov by God. It wasn’t done to admit she held his heart in her hands, not when she could crush it at any moment. He moved his hand away and let his arms hang down at his side, fists clenching and heart pounding. “Yes.”

The world closed in around Daisy, shrinking and compressing her into a tight knot of raw nerves. How could she have been so stupid? Everything, the entire truth, had been right in front of her. His convenient knowledge of her likes and dislikes, where her parents were buried…everything. Would a background check have told him all that?

And now! Now she could be pregnant with his child and tied to him forever.

Brushing past him, she swiped at her eyes and marched off in the opposite direction of the house.

“Where are you going?”

“Does it matter?” she called out over her shoulder.

“What about the results?”

“I can’t handle anything else right now.” She started walking, and then paused. “Please give me some time to think.”

His face softened. “My time belongs to you.”

Biting the inside of her cheek so hard that fresh tears welled up, she took off in a run.

“Christ. Don’t run, Daisy,” he said, his voice practically in her ear. “You could slip on the wet grass.”

Her rain boots squeaked and she slowed to a jog. “Fine.”

“I’ll leave you alone, if you promise to be careful,” he said. The scent of him, all male, all expensive cologne and all… Sebastian seemed to wrap around her. She couldn’t help but breathe him in. She couldn’t help that she was still wet between her thighs from his blatant act of possession. From his reminder of the last time they’d made love.

“I promise.” Then she slowed even more, until she was walking.

Hearing the solid crunch of boots, she turned around again, ready to blast Sebastian for not leaving her alone. “Oh, it’s you.”

Ivan smiled grimly. “Mr. Romanov said I must go with you.”

“Of course you must.” Frowning, she shoved her hands in her pocket and walked faster, splashing through puddles of water. She slowed down again when her boots slipped on a rock. On and on she walked, phone clenched in her hand, and mind on everything and nothing.

Here she was in a foreign land, unable to trust the man she thought she loved. Here she was in a foreign land, possibly pregnant by a man who’d admitted he was obsessed with her.

Though his choice of words had echoed hers.

He’d been mocking her, she realized.

Suddenly, a large shape began to emerge. All imposing lines and turrets rising out of the fog, like a fairy tale castle. Daisy forgot all about mocking, obsessions, pregnancy, and love.

All that was needed was a fancy carriage a la Cinderella racing up the gravel drive.

“Hawkfell Hall,” Ivan intoned. “Mr. Romanov’s family estate.”

“He doesn’t live here?” Her jaw dropped. Why in the world would he not want to live here?

“Not since he was seventeen.”

As she drew closer, busses and cars came into view. People loading and unloading. Some in formal wear while others were dressed casually, smart phones at the ready. A family posing in front of an intricate fountain had their picture taken by a photographer. Snacks were sold in a medieval-looking building.

A bride and groom kissed under an ornamental tree while the bridesmaids and groomsmen threw flower petals in the air.

He’d turned his house into a tourist attraction and wedding venue? I’ve finally sold the house I’d shared with my father…

Well, she guessed his father would think he’d sold it all right.

She paused by a beautifully painted sign, describing the grounds and the house. Private quarters are still maintained by the 10th Earl of Spenserfield in the North Wing. An odd pang hit her in the chest. Why didn’t he live here, at least in the part that was still private?

“The generous Earl of Spenserfield, my arse,” an older gentleman said, adjusting his cap. “Traitor to God and Crown more like it.

His companion shushed him. “The current earl is a distant relative of Chetham. He didn’t sell us to the Nazis.”

“Ha!” another cut in. “So distant even I could be the earl.”

“If you had that much money, you could’ve bought the title for yourself.”

The trio wandered off, joining a tour group.

Curious, Daisy bought a ticket and did the same.

Visually, the interior was beautiful, something out of a period movie, with high ceilings, large paintings, and ancient hardwood floors that went on for miles. Everything in the house screamed old money and an even older history.

“This portion of the Hall was used in Persuading My Lady. A bit of trivia—the earl’s twin brother had the leading role in the film,” their tour guide revealed.

After a ninety-minute tour, the guide asked them to follow the exit signs out of the house.

Reluctantly, Daisy followed instructions, keeping with the group even as she spotted the door marked Private. She could pull up the insane amount of pictures on her phone of them to convince the powers-that-be she was the tenth earl’s fiancée, but decided against it.

If he’d wanted to show her this part of his life, he could have, but he hadn’t. So she would respect his decision and his privacy. Even if she thought he didn’t deserve any of it.

Sighing, she marched past the door and outside, blinking at the sun that had finally chosen to come out from behind the clouds. Quickly finding an empty bench, she pulled out her phone and debated on texting Sebastian. She scanned the area, unable to locate Ivan. Most likely, he was hidden in the shadows somewhere, watching over her.

Her mind wandered to the results of the tests she’d taken The results.

The RESULTS.

At least while she’d been a tourist, her mind had been occupied, but now in the spring air, she watched families with babies. Every baby ever made caught her eye.

All. The. Babies.

Her vision blurred. Her eyes watered. Her breathing became shallow. Was she having a panic attack? Clutching her phone, she almost doubled over.

She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, letting the breeze cool her while she concentrated on the sound of bees buzzing and birds singing and—

“You are incredibly difficult to contact.”

Eyes popping open, Daisy turned to find a well-dressed woman sitting beside her. She had pale blond hair and eyes the color of the flowers that dominated every bed on the estate. Daisy peered at her closer. The woman looked awfully familiar.

She really needed to stop closing her eyes out in public. “Are you talking to me?” Daisy asked.

The woman smiled. “Who else?”

She didn’t look insane, but Daisy couldn’t be too sure. “Um, you look like a nice, reasonable person, but I can’t help you with whatever you want. Maybe you should ask someone with a uniform.” She stood, pocketing her phone. “Have a nice day.”

“Would you like to tour the private wing of the Hall?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s marked private, because it’s private.”

“You’re nearly family, darling,” the blond said, “and as the future Dowager Countess of Spenserfield, I insist you let me give you a behind-the-scenes tour.”

Daisy blinked. “You’re Lady Francesca?” This was the woman who’d been emailing her, wanting to meet?

“Who else?” Lady Francesca mocked with a little smile. “Now about that tour—shall we? We have much to talk about, namely Sebastian.”

“I don’t think so. If you want to talk to your son, then go to his house and do it instead of dancing on your ex-husband’s grave.”

“And which house would Sebastian be occupying right now, darling? Or did he leave you here all alone?”

“We’re living in the village, on Chippleway Stre—”

“Of course he’d pick that one.” Lady Francesca’s eyes narrowed. “Thank you for the invitation. I’ll go there straightaway.”

The fine hairs on Daisy’s nape stood up. “But I didn’t invite you,” she called after her, but it was of no use.

Sebastian’s mother ignored her and went on her way without stopping.

Rubbing her temples, Daisy exhaled. She’d had enough drama for one day. Sebastian could deal with his mother without her.

Sebastian shut the door and crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Why are you here?”

“Why are you here,” his brother mimicked, and then grinned. “I was thinking there was just too much fun to be had in the world. So I thought to myself, who could remedy this tragedy, this great affliction of laughter and fun upon innocent bystanders? You, of course, came to mind first.”

“Sod off, Christian.” Sebastian uncrossed his arms and ambled to the reception room. The bathroom door down the hall stayed firmly shut. He refused to enter it. He refused to look at the results, until she came home.

“Daisy must love being here with only you for company,” his brother said, his blue eyes missing nothing. “Any biscuits in the kitchen?”

There were, along with every other sweet he liked, but they were made for him by her and he wasn’t in the mood to share. Ever. “No.”

Christian shoved past him and made his way into the kitchen. Sebastian followed, stopping to wash his hands at the kitchen sink. He moved the pot of African violets slightly to the left and then dried his hands.

“You suck at lying, Bastian.” Christian searched through the pantry, the cabinets, and the refrigerator, taking out everything he liked and needed before carrying it to the breakfast room. He set it all on the table and sat down, opening the closest container.

“Where’s Zoe?”

“Holland Springs.” Christian tucked into a slice of lemon pound cake with poppy seed icing, groaning his appreciation. “If I weren’t in love with my wife, I’d marry Daisy. And if you weren’t in love with Romanov Industries, you would, too.”

“Hang on. That actually requires feelings. Never mind,” he added, punctuating his insult with a wave of his fork.

“Get to the point,” Sebastian said, eying the lemon tarts. Daisy had finished baking those right before they’d left for the grocery store this morning. Before she’d found him out and he’d mucked things up with his prideful nature. And the truth. He would do it again. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”

Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Christian leaned back in the chair. “I’m worried about you.”

That wasn’t something he’d ever expected his brother to say. “About me? What for?”

An uneasy look crossed his twin’s face and he tapped his fingers against the table. “From what I’ve seen, you’re not yourself. I think you’ve taken things too far.”

Confronted with his brother’s concern, Sebastian didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I assure you I am exactly the same.” Deceitful, dishonest…listening to the monster that lived inside of his head.

“So you say, but… My God, look at what you’re wearing.”

“Jeans and a t-shirt?”

“Exactly.” Christian threw his napkin on the table and flicked his hands out. “When’s the last time you’ve been in the office?”

“Last week, but I fail to see—”

“Were you out of the country?”

“No.” He drew his brows together. “Should I have been?”

“Are you happy?”

“I was, until you turned up,” Sebastian replied without hesitation and his brother shot him the bird. Where was Christian going with this?

“Did Daisy make you take her on a tour of London, or did you volunteer?”

“A little of both.” Everything she’d seen had been an adventure to her. Every church, every tourist trap, and every shop an event worth taking about fifty million pictures.

He smiled fondly at the memory. At least he would have those. She couldn’t take his memories away.

“Stop it,” Christian snapped, rising to his feet.

“Stop what?” Sebastian asked, taking a step back.

“You never smile like that.”

“So, I’m not allowed to smile, have fun, or miss work?”

“Have fun…have fun?” Christian began to pace the length of the room, hands clasped behind his back. “This is the only time you’ve ever missed work, excluding the stunt you pulled when you fucking disappeared for six months, without a bloody word to anyone, including me. Hell, Bastian, you took a lunch hour to attend Vlad’s funeral. Nothing is more important to you than Romanov Industries. I’m right, yes?”