Fate Forgotten (31 page)

She tore her eyes away from his lips and stared over his head at the signs, looking for the exit. “Shall we?”

Evey? What are you keeping from me?

She shook her head and started walking.
Things that should be kept. It doesn’t matter, Adam. It’s all behind us.

He frowned, guiding her deftly with a hand at the small of her back. She tried to ignore the warmth that spread up her spine. Outside, a car waited for them, sleek and black. The driver touched the brim of his hat, opening the door for them, and then shutting it again after they’d slid inside. Eve stared out the window, determined not to look at him. In such a close space, all she wanted to do was curl up against his side, and she didn’t dare. Not when he was so concerned, so considerate, so damn worried about her.

Coming here was a mistake. Seeing him. Being anywhere near him. It was one thing to talk to him from half a world away, but this, now…

She wanted this too much.

“The meeting is tomorrow,” he said, his voice as distant as she felt. “Ryam had some things to discuss with his brothers beforehand, but they’re expecting you.”

“They should have been expecting me the moment they put the property up for sale.” She frowned. It wasn’t like her family to be so careless, and if Adam hadn’t been paying attention—but he had. There was no use agonizing over what might have happened. “Thank you for doing this. I know things haven’t been easy between us these last years, and I had no right to ask it of you. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask even more from you still, if they insist on selling.”

He covered her hand where it lay between them on the seat, warm and dry and comforting, and she wanted so much to lace her fingers through his. “You have every right to ask it of me. To ask anything. I am sorry, Eve, for using you that way. I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You never mean it, but you do.” She pulled her hand free and hid it between her thighs in her lap, before he realized how much of an affect he had on her. “And it hurts so much more. If I could just convince myself you didn’t love me, then maybe it would be less painful. But it’s so hard to lie when I can feel the truth.”

You love me, too, Eve.

She closed her eyes.
More the fool, me.
She reached for the fire again, let it lick at the edges of her mind. The crying people. The flare of brilliant white wings and a sword of light. Her eyes snapped open again and she grimaced. She didn’t want to think of Michael. The last time she’d gotten too close to Adam, he’d arrived in the flesh to threaten her, her family, her son. No matter how desperately she wanted to remind herself of the danger, she didn’t want to think of him. It wouldn’t come to that. No matter what, she wouldn’t let it.

He studied her face. “What is it that bothers you so much? If it’s this business with Michael, I swear I’ll never—”

“It isn’t. It’s nothing. Just dreams of old memories.”

“Nightmares, you mean. I can see it in your mind. Whatever it is, it’s haunting you.”

She sighed. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Adam. And for what it’s worth—” She pressed her lips together, hesitating, but the guilt that kept welling up between them, the pain, it was more misery than she could stand. She was so tired of the lies. Her whole life was built on one lie after another, and if she couldn’t have Adam, couldn’t be with him, at least she could be honest. “For what it’s worth, I’ve forgiven you for that. Whatever it was you needed from Michael, I don’t see how you could have found him any other way.”

“You must be starving,” he said, his gaze sliding away. “I have a flat here. I could make you something, or would you prefer to go out? Anything you like.”

“You own property in France?” Of course he owned property in France. She should have guessed as much, after everything they’d shared.

“I own property everywhere. But keeping a place here seemed prudent, in case you wanted to come back.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid that I’m guilty of wishful thinking.”

“And here I am.”

“I could wish the circumstances were better. That this could be a happy reunion for you, rather than what’s shaping up to be an unhappy chastisement. If they can’t be dissuaded, Eve, you won’t lose it. I’ll find a way, I promise.”

She stared out the window again, watching the countryside rush past them. So familiar and so strange at the same time. But it had only been what? Twenty-five years? It felt like so much longer. Lifetimes ago. She never would have imagined she’d be coming back this way, with Adam at her side, acting as her champion, determined to rescue her family’s estate.

She snorted. Garrit was probably spinning in his grave.

Adam carried her luggage into the flat, showing her to her room. She stared at his back, following in silence. He was built more like a runner than a wrestler, lean and lithe, but not too tall. If it hadn’t been for his grace, just slightly more natural in every motion, he could have been anyone, really. An average Joe, with a much too charming smile, and striking gray eyes. Or maybe not
so
average.

He pushed open the door to the guest room, turning back to her, and Eve jerked her gaze from his body to the bed, then flushed. The bed. This wasn’t the first time he’d shown her to a bed. She hugged herself and stepped into the room, careful not to brush against him as she passed.

“If there’s anything you need, just let me know. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Thank you.” She ran her fingertips along the mahogany dresser, the silken finish cool against her too warm skin. The bed was mahogany too, with bookshelves built into the headboard. She picked up a small hardcover, bound with fraying green canvas, and lettered with gold. Norse Mythology. She frowned at the other volumes beside it. More myths from different cultures. Roman, Greek, Egyptian, South-East Asian, South American. Hinduism and Buddhism, the Bible and the Koran. “Some light reading?”

He shrugged. “I like to know my competition.”

“Even if you told them the truth, they wouldn’t believe you.” She put the book back, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. “But I wish you the best of luck.”

He laughed. “Evey, I’m not interested in making myself a god. You’d never forgive me if I tried, even if I succeeded, not in a million years.”

“Then why?”

“You’ve never wondered at all? If we exist, if the Bible holds even such a small grain of truth, couldn’t these other religions offer something, mean something?”

She shook her head. “God made us, made the world.”

“
This
world, Evey.”

“You can’t be serious? You of all people to doubt God, the angels. All these myths, they’re probably just some twisted game of Michael’s. Or Lucifer, maybe, to get beneath Michael’s skin. And even if it were true, by some—some miracle, I never saw any evidence, any proof. Life after life, and no matter how many sacrifices I made, no matter how many prayers I said, I never saw even the barest glimmer of anything in response.”

“You’re right, of course.” His gaze shifted to the window over her shoulder, then away again. “I suppose I just like the idea of it. That maybe we aren’t so alone. If we can’t have each other maybe—” he swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice had thickened. “Maybe there’s someone else who might truly be worthy of you.”

“Adam.” Her heart twisted and she reached for him. Couldn’t stop herself from stroking his cheek. “I never wanted a god, Adam. Never wanted anything like that.”

He pulled her hand away. “But you deserved it. That kind of love. The same kind of love that you give.”

“Stop.” She caught a handful of his shirt. “Just stop, please. Love is love, unselfish and beautiful and shining, and I know you, Adam. I know your heart. The things I said before, every cruel thing I said to push you away,” she stopped, blinking rapidly against the tears that pricked her eyes. “When you were with Mia, married to her, I looked at you, and I knew you loved her, cared for her. I knew something in you had changed beyond just remembering. After that, I always knew.”
I know love, Adam. I know when it’s real, when it isn’t. I don’t fight it because you can’t give it back. I fight it because I know you can give me everything. More than I ever dreamed.

You’re too generous, Evey. Too forgiving.
But his hand covered hers and held it tight. Then he let her go and stepped back. “You should eat something. It was a long flight, and I know firsthand how appalling the meal options can be.”

She let her hand drop, her heart raw and her body cold without his touch. Facing this, all of it, hurt so much. “Maybe just some wine, if you have it.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”
To take the edge off.

“It’s not exactly a prudent choice.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Since when do you let prudence stand in your way?”

He almost smiled. “You’d be surprised.” But he didn’t argue any further.

Eve followed him out of the room again, retracing their steps down the hall, through the living room. A leather sofa and a matching armchair faced a cozy fireplace. Gas, of course, and enclosed with glass. What was it about the rich that made them want to control even flame? And everything was so neat. Too neat. But on the other side of the room, a set of French doors opened onto a balcony, with a view of the mountains. Her mountains.

“Do you live here?” she asked, tearing herself away from the glimpse of the countryside and catching up with him in the kitchen. It was more of the same. Not a crumb to be seen anywhere, and everything in its place.

“Sometimes.” He was rummaging through a drawer, a bottle of wine in his hand. A nice, full bodied red, by the label. He closed that drawer and opened another, then a third before he found the corkscrew, and tossed her a sheepish smile. “This is kind of a vacation spot, I suppose. As much as I vacation anywhere. Half the year I spend in Britain, to appease my parents. Most of the other half I spend here.”

“I see.” He had to check two different cabinets before he found the wine glasses. Sometimes, indeed. She drank her glass without tasting it, and held it out for more.

“You’re going to get yourself drunk, Evey.” He refilled the glass anyway. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you to eat? I have strawberries…”

“Just wine, thank you.” But she sipped it this time. She’d never forget her first meal of berries and nuts. The way he smiled when he saw her pleasure as the flavor filled her mouth. “Maybe I should have stayed in a hotel.”

He took the glass from her hand, ducking his head to catch her eyes. “I couldn’t bear it if you did. All this time apart. We’re not forbidden to see one another, Eve. It doesn’t have to be this way.”

“We keep having this conversation, over and over again, but you know it isn’t that simple. When you touch me, when we kiss—” she swallowed, and met his gaze. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Do you really think I could risk losing you? I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I’m not perfect at this. I’ve stayed away, like you’ve asked. How many more years do I have to spend like this to prove that I won’t hurt you? How many years do you have to spend in agony before you allow yourself some small kind of comfort?”

She bit her lip and stared at her wine glass, sitting beyond him on the marble countertop. He lifted her chin, bringing her attention back to his face, and her mouth went dry. The way he was looking at her, the softness in his eyes. He stroked her cheek and her eyes closed. It had been so long since anyone had touched her so gently.

Please.

His lips brushed hers, questioning, and she sighed, her hands finding his chest, sliding to his shoulders. He pulled her closer and covered her mouth with his, lighting everything inside her until she melted into his body. She drank the wine from his lips, her fingers threading through his short hair. His hand at her waist burned through the cotton of her shirt, igniting a spark of tingling need.

He groaned softly, his fingers digging into the softness of her hip, and then he turned his head, breaking the kiss.

She hid her face against his chest, hoping it muffled the edge of hysteria, of desperation and desire. It felt so good to be in his arms again, to be held safe, wrapped in his affection, his love. Too good.

“It isn’t you I don’t trust, Adam,” she murmured, once his heartbeat had slowed beneath her cheek. He smoothed her hair, tucking her head beneath his chin, and she didn’t think she could bring herself to pull away, no matter how many dreams of flaming swords and burning ash Michael sent as reminders. “Not this time.”

Chapter Thirty-one: 1412 AD