Love Entwined (31 page)

He had not been able to get a signal on the cell for some time now and had to wait to check his messages.

“Hello, Terrence.” He handed the chauffeur his bags and got into the back of the limo.

“It is good to see you again, sir. What brings you to the Big Apple?”

“I am looking for someone I lost.” Roman stared at the phone, waiting for a signal on the cell.

Terrence laughed. “Well, New York is as good a place as any to look. You know, my band is playing tonight at the jazz club you should come. Bring your lady friend.”

“I’ll do that, if I find her.” He wondered if Amelie liked jazz.

“Oh you will,” Terrence chuckled. “The ladies can’t resist Roman Cardiff.”

* * * *

“Hello Roman, Harold Jarvis here. I called your London office earlier but they said you were out of town. I just wanted to check in with you, and see how things were going.”

Roman stopped himself before blurting out his concern. “Things are going well, Harold.”

If Amelie was not in New York, Jarvis might not know she had left England. She had to be here. Amelie would want to keep busy, workaholic that she was, and she wasn’t the type to run home to her mother. No, she would tough it out in New York, get back to her routine and pretend that she was fine and everything was okay.

But she was not okay, and neither was he.

“Roman, I hope you are happy with the designs?”

“Yes, indeed, Amelie is what this collection needs,” Roman said.

“I hear she left the designs with you.”

Roman exhaled a breath of relief to know she was in town. “Right, I wanted to fine tune some of them. Harold, is she in the office today?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact she is. Do you want to speak with her?”

“Great. Ah, no, I’m in New York. I’m on my way there. I have a few of the designs in my briefcase I can show you. I should be there in about a half hour.”

* * * *

“Amelie, look who has come to visit. May we come in?” Harold stood just inside the door.

Roman came in, towering above Harold, and handsome as ever in a tailored navy blue suit.

Amelie just stared at him. He was the light casting out the darkness in her heart. The room seemed too small to contain her roiling emotions.

He turned toward her desk, and his eyes softened at the sight of her. “Amelie, how are you?”

It had only been a few days and she missed his deep English, a soothing balm for her soul. She cleared her throat. “Roman. I am fine. How are you?”

She did not know what else to say. She had always been transparent, even to her own ears her voice sounded stilted.

He had come for her. The adorable forelock hung over his forehead. She almost lifted her hand to touch it this far across the room.

“After you left I had some questions. I was hoping you could shed some light on a few things. Do you have time now?”

“Yes, of course.” She got up from the chair, falling into an old habit. All business once again, she came to stand by them with the sketchpad. “I was just finishing up the emerald set.”

“Roman showed me the rest of the designs. They are stunning.” Harold smiled at one and then the other. “You two are quite the team, eh?”

“Yes, we are.” Roman gazed at her in the ensuing silence charged with the hope that Harold would notice three was a crowd.

She fidgeted with her sketchpad. Her nerves shot, she was on the verge of tears now that Roman stood before her. She adamantly wished someone would say something.

“Well, I’ll let you two get on with it.” Harold smiled and closed the door on his way out.

“Why?”

There was so much pain in that one word, and it stung her to know that she was the cause of it.

Mon Dieu, he does love me.

This influential man, the heir to a dynasty, wore a stricken expression that was a match for the way she felt. He needed her as much as she needed him.

She turned toward the Manhattan skyline. “I had to leave,”

Roman turned her around and took her in his arms. “I was so worried about you. Tell me what is wrong. What happened?”

She stood rigid, ignoring the comforting circle of his strong arms around her and the woodsy scent of the cologne on his lapel. It reminded her of the wilds of Yorkshire. “I happened. My life. My lives. My existence is a threat to you.”

He held her at arm’s length. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yes, exactly. In hell’s name, I am talking about evil. I am and always will be.”

“Listen to me.” Roman shook her. “You are not evil.”

She clung to him and let the tears fall.

The office door opened and Harold walked in. “Sushi? We ordered in.” His smile faded as Amelie’s shoulders shook with each ragged sob. “Amelie?” She quieted and Roman dried her tears. He glanced at Harold. “Sounds good, Harold, but we’re going out for lunch, thank you.”

Harold wavered by the door, squinting in confusion. “All right. We’ll, ah, talk later then.” He closed the door behind him.

Roman took her by the hand. “Let’s go.” He walked her out of the office building and straight to the limo.

“You found her.” The chauffeur greeted them at the curb.

“Terrence, this is Amelie.”

“It is a pleasure, my fair lady,” Terrence gave her a gallant bow.

“How do you do, Terrence?” She attempted to smile at the cocoa-colored young man in his sharp black suit, but shook his hand instead.

“Do you like jazz?” Terrence asked.

“I love jazz.”

The chauffeur grinned at Roman, who chuckled. “Madison Avenue Towers.”

They had complete privacy in the back of the limo with the partition closed. Though they did not speak on the drive to her apartment, she was acutely aware of him.

He let her sit by the window with two feet of space between them on the seat. Mercifully, he kept his hands on his knees. If he touched her she might start her crying again. He was staring at her lips, and she wished Terrence drove like James.

At home, she turned on lamps on her way to the bedroom. When she returned in her stocking feet, Roman was in the kitchen. He had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. She was content to watch him open a bottle of white wine. She’d thought it was over between them, but he was here. There was so much to say and now she felt foolish for running off the way she had.

“Come, sit with me.” He led the way to the living room.

She sat on the red leather couch overlooking a verdant Central Park. It was still bright at five o’clock in the afternoon on a typical New York spring day.

He placed the glass of wine in her hands and sat down next to her, arching a brow when she drank the entire glass.

She tucked her feet underneath her and stared into the wineglass, not sure where to begin. He took several sips from his glass and then loosened his tie, all the while watching her. She loved his patience and wished she had it. Finally, she took a deep breath. “Someone wants you dead.”

He had that damned inscrutable expression on his face and she could not tell what he was thinking.

“I would not doubt it. I am known to be very bull-headed on occasion.” He took the glass from her shaking hands and set it on the coffee table along with his. “Amelie, how do you know this?”

“Maybe a girlfriend?” She picked up the paper from the coffee table and thrust it at him.

His expression turned stony as he read the one line message. He balled the paper in his fist. “I am sorry you had to find out this way.”

Fury stood her upright. “
Monsieur
, are you sorry I had to find out about your girlfriends?”

He rubbed his thick brows. “Sit down, Amelie.”

His discordant tone doused her anger and made her obey. It was not the contrite pitch of the guilty; his was a quiet fury. She waited, but now he was the one without words.

“Constance was…” He started over. “I could not give Constance what she wanted, but I would have taken care of the child. And then someone took it out of both of our hands. There was no proof, but I blamed the Garamondes.”

“But it was not them. There is someone else, Roman.” She took a deep breath, gearing up for the question to which she was certain the answer would kill her. But she had to ask. “Is there another woman?”

“Not since I have met you.” He spoke as if talking to a dunce, but she ignored his tone, holding onto the words with a joy that made her giddy. Then she started to breathe again. “Could it be one of them?”

“No. There have been attempts, and none of those women would have cause to kill Garamonde.” He told her about the car crash at the London headquarters.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Sweetheart, I didn’t want to frighten you. The security team is investigating it.” He put the note on the coffee table. “How did you get this?”

“It came to me in the mail from London the day I left St. Clair Manor.” She retrieved the envelope, which was still lying on the floor where she’d thrown it.

He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket. “I also received mail from London.”

She stared the cryptic words. “My betrothed. What are we going to do?”

“Do you have any idea who may have sent this?”

“Lord Alsborough. It’s him. He’s come back for me.” Tears sprang anew to her eyes. “Roman, you have to leave me here. Please go.”

“Don’t say that.” He put an arm around her. “I love you.” She would not look at him and he took her chin in his hand. “Do you love me?”

“I love you so much,
mon amour
.”

“Don’t ever say no to us.” He placed her on his lap.

“You don’t understand. I am responsible for all of this. There is something I didn’t tell you about the past. Something has followed me into this life, something terrible and it won’t let me be happy…”

“Shh, that’s nonsense.” He rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles, but she rose and paced the room.

“No, you must listen to me. I am an Artisan. I didn’t know what that meant until I went back to the past. But I think Emil knew. He knew I was the High Priestess and he sought me out…” She told him what she and her consort had done to so many innocent people. “If you stay with me, they will come after you again.”

“You knew Lord Alsborough before…” He sat forward, with his elbows on his knees. When he looked at her, his eyes were hooded and he spoke quietly. “This is not just about taking over Cardiff Jewels. This…whatever it is, has been waiting for us for a very long time. I think it has been stalking us through time. That canvas in Michel Garamonde’s office came alive.”

She sat down next to him. “What did you see?”

“Myself. On a battlefield. With him, Lord Alsborough. But it was an earlier time. We were soldiers of Rome.”

She hugged him, pushing him back against the couch. “It will never end. We will never be safe!”

“No! Listen to me. We have each other, Amelie. And, you remember. We will beat it this time.”

“I am a part of it. He won’t let me go.”

“I won’t let him have you. You are safer with me at St. Clair Manor. Promise me you won’t run from me again.”

She leaned her cheek against his and hiccupped. “I won’t.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “We love each other, that’s all that really matters. I won’t give you up now that I’ve found you.”

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” Her hand traveled down his chest and between his legs to rub the prominent bulge under his pants. “Roman?”

“You take the first available flight to hide away in New York and now you want me to make love to you?” He nibbled her ear.

“
Oui, monsieur
, I can wait no longer.”

He carried her into the bedroom.

Taking her hands in his, he kissed her open palms. He sat her down on the bed and kneeled before her. “I can’t wait any longer to do this.” He placed the sapphire and diamond ring on her finger. “Been carrying it around for days now.”

Her ring. Once she had saved it, and after all this time, Roman had kept it safe in the collection.

“Amelie Celeste Laurent, I love you. I always have and I always will. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes, Roman, I love you so much,” she pulled him close for a kiss.

He leaned her back on the bed, trailing kisses down the smooth column of her neck. He removed the pins from her hair and it shimmered like a silken pillow.

Slowly, he began to undress her, caressing her breasts through the silk. He reached the crest of one globe and kissed it. When he took the pearled tip into his mouth, she gasped.

She came to life in his arms, arching her back, pushing herself against him. “I want you right now, this minute.”

“Do you remember when you were dripping wet under the shower at the pool that first night?” He unclasped her skirt and pulled it from under her. Her stockings were next as he rubbed the pads of his fingers down her legs, and kneading the soles of her feet in a sensual massage.

“Uh-hum.”

“I wanted to do this to you, but you were so far away from me.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and steadied herself against the sensual slide of his rough tongue between her breasts.

“
Mon cher
, I wish had known then what I know now…” Her regret came out in a sigh of longing. She squirmed when that tongue plied the soft underside of her breast. Slowly, it dipped into her belly, exploring her navel and finally traveling down to her white silk panties.

She held her breath when he made a detour and began to lick her inner thigh.

He cupped her bottom with his hands and licked her mound. That sweet instrument of torture parted her curls and darted in and out, swirling around her.

The coarse slide of that deliberate tongue made moisture pool between her legs, and they went limp.

He guided her back onto the bed, spreading her wide.

She could not lie still while he shed his clothes, and stretched to relieve the pressure building up. Her hips came off the bed at the sight of his erection.

She opened her legs wider when he knelt over her. Instead of impaling her, he feasted on her as if she were manna from heaven.

She moaned, unable to utter a word while his tongue foraged. Oh, but he had words enough, and coaxed the very essence from her body.