Roses For Sophie (15 page)

He laughed. For the very first time while he was thinking back to Celine's betrayal, he was actually laughing. There was no pain gripping his chest, no sudden pressure in the blood vessels at his temples. Sophie was making him laugh about it.

‘What's so funny?'

God, this woman was good for him. ‘You are. Sweetheart, you told me you'd put a dent in my ego, but saying things like that sure isn't the way to go about doing it!'

‘Hm.' She pursed her lips. ‘My mistake.' She toyed with the buttons on his shirt. ‘You know what happened to me. Tell me about what happened to you.'

Could he? The subject had always made him too angry to discuss. That he hadn't seen through Celine's shallow, money-grabbing nature made him feel foolish. The way his ego had been stroked by her pretence that he was the best thing on the planet made him feel like a first-class idiot. It wasn't something he wanted to admit to. Yet Sophie had opened up about her past hurts to him. He couldn't expect her to marry him if he couldn't own up to the mistakes of his past.

‘I thought I loved Celine. One day, I thought she was at work. I left work in the middle of the day, planning on going to the apartment we shared to set the scene for a romantic proposal of marriage. When I got there I discovered that she'd left work early as well, but not for the same reasons. I found her in our bed with someone else.'

‘No way! What a bitch! How could she do that to you?' Sophie was fairly bristling with indignation on his behalf and he adored her for it. ‘I understand exactly how you feel because that's what happened to me, too. I paid a surprise visit to the guy I was secretly engaged to and found him in bed with a stable hand.'

‘He was an idiot!'

‘The world's full of them.' She smiled. Smoothing her hands over his chest, she frowned. ‘So Celine was responsible for your aversion to commitment? She's the reason you never thought you'd marry?'

‘Partly. My father had been hoodwinked by countless women. I lost count of the number of times he married. He was a total sucker for a pretty face, and the women saw it a mile off. They hooked him in and in some cases they'd barely danced the bridal waltz before they were signing divorce papers. Worse was seeing how dependent he was upon a relationship with a woman to feel like he was worth something. I swore I'd never leave myself vulnerable to pain, and that I'd never end up in the divorce courts like my father. I also swore I'd never be dependent upon someone to feel good about myself.'

‘That need your father had was unhealthy. It must surely have come from low self-esteem.'

‘Maybe. He sure as hell didn't need Melissa or me in his life. All he wanted was a trophy wife. He collected one trophy after another.'

‘And you and Celine?'

‘Somehow Celine got under my guard.' His arms around her waist, he lowered his hands so they traced over the beautiful roundness of her buttocks.

‘Do you still have feelings for her?'

‘Other than despising her? No.'

‘And you've never been seriously involved with anyone else?'

‘No. After Celine, I was determined to keep my relationships impersonal.'

‘Listen to you!' She hit her palms against his chest. ‘The words
relationships
and
impersonal
simply don't belong together!'

‘Too often I've met women with dollar-signs in their eyes.'

‘Often, but surely not always?'

He frowned. ‘I don't want to be taken advantage of again. My judgement was sorely lacking when it came to Celine. I took her completely at face value when all along it was my wealth and social status she craved, just like the long procession of women who were my step-mothers.'

She flicked a nail over his nipple. ‘I'm quite certain your money wasn't the only thing Celine or any of the others craved.'

‘Temptress.' His hands splayed over her buttocks and urged her into closer contact with the hardness of his pelvis.

‘I'm beginning to understand where you're coming from,' she said.

‘Whoa. No psychoanalysis please, and definitely no pity.'

‘Your mother left your father but worse, she left you. That must've been difficult to deal with,' Sophie said.

Logan closed his eyes in an effort to shut out the painful memories that were as clear in his mind as if the events had taken place yesterday. He wasn't successful.

Logan had raced in from the garden, carrying a ladybird on his arm to show his mother. ‘Mummy, I've found something for you! You can wear it on your top like a brooch!'

She'd barely spared him a glance. Then, he'd noticed the two suitcases packed against the wall and the ladybird had been forgotten. ‘Mummy, are we going on a holiday?'

‘You're not going anywhere, kid.'

He'd been confused. ‘What are you doing with those bags?'

‘I'm going far away to a place I deserve to be.'

‘Where are we going?'

‘I just told you, stupid, you're not going anywhere. You get to stay here with your wonderful father.'

‘You're not taking Daddy and me with you?'

‘What the hell would I want you two along for — especially a whinging, whining child like you, Logan? God, I almost wish I'd never had you.' She'd grabbed the handle of one of the suitcases and started wheeling it toward the door. ‘But, you served a purpose and I've regained my figure.'

Pain had gripped him. She wished she'd never had him? Something in him had always known that, but to hear it voiced…‘When are you coming back?'

Slowly she'd turned. The smile she'd given him was one of sheer bliss. ‘Never.'

‘No, Mummy! You can't leave me!' He'd hurled himself at her, wrapping his arms tight around her legs. ‘Please don't go!' Tears had scalded his throat. Each breath had been choppy as his lungs laboured against the dreadful weight that constricted his chest.

‘Stop hanging off me, you little brat, and get this through your thick skull,' she'd yelled angrily as she whacked him across the head and tried to prise his arms from their hold on her legs. ‘I don't want you. I never wanted you and I wouldn't have ever had you if your father hadn't paid me to give him a son. I'm going somewhere I never have to put up with your snivelling again.'

His heart had splintered. He'd just about choked on his tears.

‘Look at you! You've got disgusting snot running from your nose. Get up, Logan and try not to be such a bloody little sissy. I can't believe I gave birth to such a pathetic little shit.'

‘Please Mu…Mummy, I'll be good. Please don't leave me…I promise, I promise to be g…good. I'll do whatever you say.'

She'd shoved him so hard he'd crashed into a Grecian statue that graced the opulent hallway. It had smashed and he'd cut his hand on it.

She hadn't cared.

Tears scalding his eyes, he'd watched her pick up both her suitcases and walk out without a backward glance as his breath came in great shuddering sobs. She'd known it was the housekeeper's day off, but she'd still walked out. His mother had left him completely alone, his heart aching, and it hadn't even bothered her. He'd just found out she'd never loved him at all.

All mothers loved their children, didn't they?

What was so unlovable about him?

When he'd finally paid his hand some attention, he'd registered that something small was under it. Turning his hand palm up he saw that he'd crushed the beautiful ladybird. Hot tears had streamed down his cheeks again. He'd killed that pretty creature but he hadn't meant to do it. It'd been an accident. It must've happened as he'd fallen. He really was bad. No wonder his mother didn't love him.

He hadn't moved. He couldn't. His limbs had felt too heavy and his heart too sore, but he'd started crying in earnest. Crying for his mother and shedding tears as well for the pretty little insect he'd meant to give to her. For what must have been hours, he'd prayed that his mother would come back and vowed that he could be the little boy she wanted him to be.

Darkness had fallen and he'd still sat huddled next to the base of the broken statue. Blood from his cut hand had stained the top of his shorts. It had flowed for a long time before it had stopped.

It was late by the time his father had come home from work and Logan had started to feel hungry, yet he was also too paralysed by his grief to move.

His father had taken one look at him and said, ‘Where's your mother, boy?'

‘She…she le-left Daddy.'

The only other memory he had of that night was the look of blazing accusation and contempt from his father's eyes as he yelled, ‘What did you do that made her go?'

‘Logan, what is it?' Sophie's voice penetrated the nightmare he was reliving.

He looked down into her gorgeous green eyes. Eyes that were full of concern for him. She must have witnessed the various emotions flitting across his face as he remembered his anguish from that day. A child's guilt and shame.

‘You know all about the devastation of losing your parents, Sophie, but they were taken from you in an accident. I had to live with the knowledge that my mother chose to walk away from me and that she'd never wanted me in the first place. My father paid for a son. God knows why, because once he had me he never showed any interest in me.'

She leaned into him and there was comprehension in her expression. ‘Did you blame yourself for your mother leaving? Did you think it was your fault your parents' marriage didn't work out?'

The laugh he gave was full of bitterness. ‘Not only did I blame myself, but my father blamed me. As if it wasn't devastating enough for me to have my mother walk out on me and tell me she never wanted to see me again, my father asked me what I'd done to make her leave. He thrashed me that night, took off his belt and took every bit of his frustration and anger out on me.'

‘Oh my God! That's dreadful. He abused you.'

‘Yeah.' He hadn't even cared about Logan's hand or the sight of blood on his clothing. ‘The next day his personal assistant drove me to boarding school and I hardly saw him again.'

‘No child should ever have to deal with that.'

No. Every child should be loved, and that was exactly the reason he was hell-bent on getting Charlotte away from her self-serving, pathetic excuse for a grandmother.

‘It must've been horrible for you to be sent to boarding school when you were so vulnerable.'

‘Sending me to boarding school was probably the best thing he ever did. That's where I met Scott and we became best friends very quickly.' Emotion rose again in his chest. It was taking quite some time to come to terms with Scott's death.

‘Did your father keep abusing you over the years?' Her voice was quiet, her expression pained.

‘No. He pretty much ignored me. I still don't understand to this day why he would have nothing more to do with me when he'd apparently paid my mother to give him a child.'

A shudder shook her frame. ‘The pair of them should be strung up. I can't believe what they put you through.'

‘I don't think my father could bear to look at me because I was a constant reminder to him of his first failed marriage. Maybe he was hoping that a child would bring him and my mother closer together. I don't know, and I'm beyond caring now. I never knew my father well, but neither of his children ever mattered to him. Perhaps having a son and a daughter ticked the boxes in life he'd drawn for himself. All I know is that he seemed to define who he was by having a trophy wife glued to his side.' He shook his head. ‘The only time he seemed remotely happy was when he was in the first glow of a new relationship. I vowed I would provide my own happiness and would never count on anyone else to make me feel good about myself.'

Sophie was silent for a few seconds seeming to mull over his words. Then she asked, ‘Is he still alive?'

‘No. He died a few years ago.' He shrugged. ‘I came home for the funeral, but that was only for Melissa's sake.'

Sophie's gentle touch on his cheek was a balm to his soul. ‘Was Melissa from another marriage?'

‘Yeah. Her mother turned out to be every bit as money-grabbing as mine had been. My father could really pick them.'

‘It's no wonder you're so committed to giving Charlotte a secure childhood. It sounds like your own was hell.'

‘Boarding school wasn't so bad once I'd made friends with Scott. Holidays were pretty tense, and once Melissa was born I tried to be there for her, because the moment her mother walked out, our father didn't want anything more to do with Melissa either.'

‘And you're determined not to be like your father.'

‘Right.'

‘Oh, Logan. I don't think you're anything like your father and you never will be.'

Not if he could help it.

She raised herself on her tiptoes and brushed her mouth insistently over his. On a groan of need, he pulled her against him. He recognised that Sophie poured everything she had into her kisses. Every movement of her lips against his, every sweep of her tongue conveyed her empathy, her need to heal him and obliterate all his bad memories away. It worked. All his traumatic thoughts were sucked up and forgotten as a fierce tornado of desire whipped through him. All he knew was need for this woman who reached out and seemed to touch and connect with his very soul.

‘The nanny…you've hired…for Charlotte…isn't home, is she?' Sophie asked between kisses.

‘We're all alone, sweetheart.'

She groaned her satisfaction at his response and her fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt. In record time, they were both naked in his new kitchen, a pile of clothes at their feet.