Guardian Angel (14 page)

There was nothing else Trace could say. His sense of betrayal was too great for words. The room couldn't contain his disapproval. He felt it with every breath he took. Unable to bear the sight of his brother, he turned away.

Another silence passed until Trace heard the muted sound of Philip's footsteps on the carpet, a pause, then the opening and closing of the door.

Trace sighed and removed his glasses. The disillusionment was crushing. To know that Philip had been so destructive and deceitful wounded Trace. Yet at the same time, he felt as if someone had lifted a weight from his chest. He no longer felt a war of his loyalties. He understood Talia's pain and wanted to help her with it. One more barrier between him and her had been removed. Still, he wondered if it would make any difference to her, or if it was just too late.

 

The auction was held in the lush gardens of the Hidden Hills Country Club. Azaleas and roses bloomed in profusion as guests wandered from the tables filled with the merchandise to chairs beneath a canopy. Uniformed waiters served mimosas and pastries. The Fitzgerald sisters had created an atmosphere of sociable relaxation.

Talia, however, was ready to tear her hair out. She'd hoped to see Trace before the auction began. She'd carefully chosen a peach floral dress that swayed and swirled when she moved. It was the most feminine dress she'd ever owned. It was also off the rack, but she didn't think Trace would mind.

If he would just get there. She'd rehearsed her plan. She would ask him to meet privately with her after the auction. It would all be very civilized. When they were alone, she would apologize and confess her love, and pray that he would take her back.

Her nervous pacing was interrupted by Martha Fitzgerald's amplified voice. She welcomed everyone and gave recognition to a few special donations, then the auctioneer took over.

Talia didn't sit. She stood to the side craning her neck for a first glance of Trace. At last she saw him walking swiftly along the outer edge of the garden. Her heart rose to her throat and her feet moved of their own accord, first walking, then running.

In the background, she heard the auctioneer say, “The first item up for bid is a Ming vase donated by Camilla Wentworth…”

As she raced toward Trace, Talia drank in the sight of him. His hair was mussed, he wore his tinted glasses, and his mouth was set in a forbidding straight line.

He looked ready for a fight.

“Let's open the bidding at two thousand…”

After almost losing a sandal in her mad dash, she suddenly found herself standing in front of Trace. Her mind went blank.

She couldn't see his eyes. Lord, she'd give up Chinese food for a year just to see his eyes. She opened her mouth at the same time he did.

“Trace, I'm so—”

“Talia, I talked to—”

They both fell silent. Talia took a deep breath and watched Trace take one too. Perhaps that was a good sign. Still, she prayed she'd find the right words. He deserved an apology and the truth about her feelings, even if he'd changed his mind himself. Civilized or not, she felt compelled to tell him now rather than after the auction.

She cleared her throat. “I'm sorry. I was wrong. I do—”

He shook his head, and her heart plummeted. “No,” he said. “I talked to Philip and found out the truth.”

Her feeling of desperation heightened. “It doesn't mat—”

He covered her lips with his fingers. “Yes, it does.” He took her arm and pulled her away from the crowd. “I should have believed you, but it was hard to accept that Philip could be so vicious.”

His voice was low and tense, and she could imagine the struggle he'd gone through. She clenched her hands together.

“He finally admitted it, but even now, I'm not sure if he feels any regret.” He raked a hand through his hair and looked away. “After he told me, I felt this horrible shame, because he didn't seem to have the sense to feel it for himself. When I think of what this has cost you and Kevin, I wonder if there was anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered. Everything within her protested the pain in his voice. She reached for his arm. “You must
never ever
blame yourself for this. You had nothing to do with it.” She searched his face. “I can't stand to see you torn between Philip and me. That's why I told you I wouldn't see you again.”

His reaction was swift. He captured her hand in his and said, “I'm not torn.”

The near-violent intensity behind his words shook her. “I'm not either. That's what I was trying to tell you. The stuff about Kevin and Philip isn't important. The fact that you have more money than I ever will isn't important either. None of that is as important as you are.” Her voice broke. “As we are together.”

“Ah, Talia.” He pulled her into his arms. “I thought I'd lost you. Do you know what you put me through? I was ready to kidnap you to get you back.”

“I've been miserable,” she confessed. “You're all I've thought about.” She remembered the endless hours she'd spent arguing with herself. “At first I tried to tell myself ending it was for the best, but my heart refused to believe it. Even Kevin didn't believe it.”

“Kevin?”

She let out a nervous little laugh. “Yes, Kevin. I don't know what you said to him, but he told me you wouldn't be easy to shake.”

“He was damn right about that,” Trace muttered roughly.

“That and a few other things. It took me a while, but I finally realized that everyone has problems.” She looked into his face, wishing once again she could see his eyes. “People who really care about each other solve their problems together. But I want you to know—”

“Together,”
he cut in. “I won't let you go again, Talia. It would be easier to cut off my arm. You belong to me.” He pressed his mouth to hers in a firm, utterly possessive kiss. “If you have any doubts, we'll take care of them once we're married. And we
are
getting married as soon as possible.” He spoke as if he were offering a nonnegotiable contract.

Relief made her giddy, but she remembered there was one more thing she needed to tell him. “Trace,” she began.

“I mean it. I'm not taking no for an answer.”

“Trace.”

“You can just get used to the idea. I'm not letting you out of my sight or my bed.”

Her heart soared. It was incredible to hear him say these things, but she was having a hard time getting a word in edgewise.

“Trace,” she said, fighting for breath and a measure of sanity after another hard kiss. “Shut up and take off your glasses.”

His brief hesitation revealed he was more accustomed to giving orders than receiving them. He complied nonetheless. His eyes were bloodshot but determined. His jaw was clenched.

That she'd made him suffer grieved her unbearably.

She touched his cheek and kissed it. “I wanted to see your eyes,” she said softly, “when I told you that I love you.”

A spark flickered to life in those green eyes.

“You are the most wonderful man,” she went on, her own eyes filling with tears. “Sometimes I have a hard time believing that you could really truly love me.”

“I couldn't love anyone else.” He brought her closer still and lowered his mouth until it was a breath from hers. “Will you marry me?”

“Whenever you say,” she promised, staring into a face she would cherish the rest of her days.

“Sold!” the auctioneer shouted as they sealed their promise with a kiss.

One week later, Talia's dress was not only off the rack, it was on the floor, along with her bra and panties, and her husband's shirt, trousers and briefs. The blue Caribbean beckoned below the open window of their honeymoon suite. A palm tree rustled in the warm breeze.

The ice in the champagne bucket had long since melted. The white satin coverlet lay on the floor, too, and Talia Barringer had the best arms this side of heaven wrapped around her.

Trace toyed with her hair. “You're not talking.”

She smiled. “I'm counting my blessings.”

He nuzzled her cheek. “You are?”

“Yes. There's Robby.”

He kissed her nose in agreement.

“And there's the fact that Kevin has accepted our relationship. He even seems to respect you.” Her smile wavered. “I wish I could say the same for Philip.”

Trace snuggled her closer and ran a soothing hand down her arm. “He's not running for election anymore. Maybe he'll take the time to find himself again. That would be a blessing.”

“That's true.” Because she didn't want to focus on any unpleasantness, she went on counting. “But the best blessing of all,” she said, laying her hand over his heart, “is you.”

He shook his head. “No. It's you.”

She shook her head, too, her grin widening. Before she could open her mouth, however, Trace covered it with his. With a soft sigh and a full heart, she decided she could continue this loving argument for the rest of her life.

Discover more classic romances by Leanne Banks
now available in ebook for the first time!

His Royal Pleasure

The Fairest of Them All

More Than a Mistress

Playing with Dynamite

For the Love of Sin

 

…plus many more titles by Leanne Banks available in
ebook format!

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