Second Chances (11 page)

Chapter 16

The little boy looked even frailer than the previous week, Arthur thought. His eyes shone abnormally bright, and they seemed to have sunk deeper into their sockets. He pushed away from the door when the nurse approached holding the lunch tray.

Arthur stopped her.

“Give me that.”

The woman tiredly handed him her load, not even waiting for him to enter, and went on with her tasks. The child was crouched in his bed. Arthur sat near him and smiled.

“Hi Matthew.”

The little boy moved a little to give him more space. Arthur lifted the cover and frowned. The meal included cubes of ham and rice with sweet-peas; all of which the kid could clearly not swallow. He took the plastic fork and mashed the peas the best he could.

“Here…”

Matthew hesitantly took a half-spoon of vegetables. The effort of swallowing the hard and dry food made the clear blue eyes water, and the child nestled back against Arthur without a second attempt at eating. The young man pushed the dark hair back to kiss his burning forehead.

“I know it hurts, Matthew, but you have to eat to get better.”

The little boy shook his head and buried his face deeper into his chest to sob. Pushing the tray away, Arthur enfolded his charge in his arms, gently caressing his head to quieten him.

“Well, peas are not fun, I’ll give you that.”

While Matthew calmed down in his embrace, he looked around. The other bed was empty; Mark was finally home with his family. Some books were stacked up on the bedside table; all about horses. He picked one and opened it at the bookmark, undoubtedly left by Maya.

Pain half-forgotten, Matthew looked at him with pleading eyes. Arthur grinned.

“I am going to make a deal with you. You drink the milk and eat some of your dessert, and we’ll read one chapter.”

“Do you really need to negotiate everything, Arthur?”

Maya entered with another tray. Matthew wriggled to free himself from Arthur to get to her and she embraced the little boy heartily. The young man stood so she could take his place near the child on the bed.

“I do not.”

“Milk and dessert for one chapter? That’s bargaining to me.”

Smiling, she uncovered a bowl of soup, mashed sweet potatoes and a small bowl of chocolate mousse. Matthew’s nose twitched at the smell of the food and his eyes lit with pleasure.

The brutal desire to possess forever the wonderful picture of Maya with the child cuddled in her arms punched him hard in the stomach. Arthur inhaled deeply to repress the feeling, looking away and settling in the farthest chair he could find.

“Go on, Arthur, read. We’ll eat.”

Her teasing smile awoke more needs. She was impossible. But Matthew was sipping his soup. So he read.

***

Maya pulled the door behind them as the little boy turned in his sleep.

“The surgery is scheduled on the 30th, but I’m not sure he can wait that long…”

The worry in her voice was unmistakable and he found he wanted to reach for her; so he chose another question to distract himself from the need.

“Why don’t they feed him intravenously instead of forcing him to eat normally?”

“Gavin told me it’s better to keep his digestive system working for as long as possible. He said it will help later with the rehabilitation.”

Some hair had escaped her braid, and she pushed it off her face. Arthur noticed the shadows under her eyes; she was tired. He concentrated on their conversation again.

“He clearly couldn’t swallow the food on his tray. Why…”

“The service made a mistake when Mark checked out. Do you see this number here?”

She twisted to point to the small number on the cover of the first tray and her movement stretched her blouse. Arthur peeped at the writing above her shoulder and withdrew quickly. Her scent and the view were unnerving.

“28-B.”

“That’s the number of Mark’s bed. Matthew is 28-A. They delivered the wrong one. I talked to Moira about it but she’s…”

“Distracted.”

The word came out before he could stop himself. Maya gave him an astonished look then turned away.

“Yes. I need to talk to my assistant about the trays. I won’t be long.”

Arthur nodded and entered her office to wait. Suddenly, coming by on his lunch hour to see Matthew seemed like a bad idea. He should not have given in to the impulse. He had a lot to do before leaving the next day. His father was on his back for the Mercia contract and the Foundation’s case, and he was wasting time waiting for a woman; for Maya.

The screen saver on her computer screen was wishing him a Merry Christmas. Arthur sat on her chair, glancing at the other items on her desk; one pen was missing its cover; she had obviously played with it. A to-do-list for the day was scribbled on a Post-it.

His gaze kept coming back to the computer. All he had to do was to move the mouse to access her account. With one click or two, he could find the information they needed to clear the Foundation.

The photo near the monitor showed a middle-aged man with two girls clutched to his neck, a blonde and a brunette. The girls seemed to be laughing their hearts out, obviously trying to bring the man down on the grass: Gerald, Moira and Maya, years ago, when things were not so complicated.

Arthur looked back at the screen. Drugs hurt millions of people, most likely Moira too. Bringing down one financial resource would not stop the traffic but it would certainly make things a bit more difficult for the dealers to dispatch their Evil. Cutting resources was like burning the legendary Hydra head: it didn’t kill the monster but it prevented the severed head from growing twice as powerful. He extended his hand.

“What are you doing?”

The ruffled tone stopped him midway to the mouse. Arthur backed up in her chair slowly, while his mind was working in overdrive to find a suitable explanation. She would not believe him. She didn’t trust him, yet she trusted everybody else…She was too trusting for her own good, far too innocent. If she was innocent…

“I was bored.”

The half-lie, voiced with one touch of contempt, instantly appalled her. Temper flared in her pale green eyes.

“Well, surely you can find…amusement elsewhere.”

God, she was beguiling when she was mad. Standing, Arthur smirked.

“You’re selling yourself short, sweetheart. I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow, two PM sharp. Don’t forget your toothbrush.”

He crushed her into him, utterly (dis)satisfied when she turned her head so his mouth found only her jaw, because he had expected her to react exactly like that. As long as he could predict her reactions, and he kept his under control, he would be safe.

***

Maya checked her bag for the thirtieth time. Her outfit for the Ball and a change of clothes were carefully stored in a small suitcase, as well as her toothbrush and toiletries. She had changed her choice of nightgown three times already. Each one was perfectly decent; plain.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Maya, this is not a romantic getaway, it’s business.”

Even speaking the reality out loud didn’t help. She threw the garment she was holding into the bag and zipped it up before she changed her mind again. The nightdress was green. Arthur had said green suited her. She couldn’t take the green one!

Maya was about to reopen her luggage when the door buzzed. It was too late to change her mind now. She took a deep breath, checked her reflection in the mirror, mentally kicking herself for it, and opened the front door.

He was wearing jeans. It was the first time she had seen him without a tailored suit since they had started their charade. He looked good in jeans. The navy color of his pullover matched his eyes. He had not tied his scarf and the skin of his neck was pink with cold.

“Hi.”

The syllable choked and Maya felt like an idiot.

“Let me take that.”

Without hesitation, Arthur grabbed her bag and walked back to the car. It was definitely too late to change her mind now. She should have taken the purple shift.

Chapter 17

The house was a spectacular mansion which had been part of Abigail’s dowry. Each year, on the December solstice, the ancestral house reopened its doors to host the Yule Ball. The tradition had begun to celebrate Arthur’s first birthday, for Abigail had always wanted children and had suffered several miscarriages before giving birth to her son. Even after her death, Robert had insisted on carrying on with the Ball, which by then had become one of the most praised events of the Season, especially if the invitation came with an offer to spend the night at the mansion.

Maya took in the impressive sight the house made under the darkening sky. The multiple windows were framed by exterior illuminations that reflected on the white walls making them glow. The courtyard was lit by torches and more garlands, the latter installed in the orange trees that had been taken out for the occasion. She couldn’t make out the barns and the stables in the backyard but she knew they were somewhere behind the master building; the property was enormous.

Arthur slowed down while driving up the gravelly driveway and stopped at the big front doors. Maya hadn’t come to the domain in several years, escaping invitations to the Ball even before her falling out with the Pendletons, and she couldn’t help but feel like Cinderella stepping out of her pumpkin when a hired valet opened her door for her.

“Mister Pendleton, your father is already here, as well as several of your guests; please, this way.”

She would have found it slightly amusing to have Arthur being shown the way into his own house, if he hadn’t placed one arm around her to escort her inside. The hold on her waist was a little hard, although not entirely possessive. He touched her as if he needed to feel something real under his palm. Maya looked up to him, but his face was annoyingly blank, as always; maybe just a little more tense.

Entering the main hall, two familiar figures caught her attention and she escaped Arthur and his moods running to them.

“Colin! Gavin!”

“Hello Maya. Now, I’ve got excellent taste, you’re gorgeous in this sweater.”

His boyfriend slapped Colin’s forearm gently and the two exchanged a complicit glance before they sobered themselves as a steward approached Arthur.

“I’m sorry, Sir, I know you requested the Sand Room which is quite spacious, but that’s the last one with two beds, and those gentlemen…”

“We’ll take another one,” Arthur answered sharply.

Her friends looked relieved and though it pained her, Maya understood their uneasiness. High Society was yet to fully admit homosexuality. Hypocrites.

“The Yellow Rose Room is available, Sir. It’s smaller but…”

“Fine.”

They climbed up the massive stairs until they reached the first floor and followed their guide to the end of the corridor. The man opened the door and put their luggage inside, before he left with a short bow, closing the door behind them.

The room was not that small, by Maya’s standards. The Yellow Rose Room had been named for its windows facing the rose garden in the west wing of the mansion. At sunset, the bright colors reflected on the clear wood panels making them shine. Adding to the impression, the walls were painted a joyous sunny color, which complimented the wood furniture and the deep red curtains.

Maya spun on her heels happily. The room was wonderful…The only problems were the single king size bed, and Arthur.

Suddenly, the mask he held during their arrival began to crack and he looked awfully tired. He walked toward the dresser to fill a glass and drained it in one gulp, refilling it right away.

Maya took it out of his hand to put it away. Arthur growled.

“I’m fine.”

“No you’re not.”

Maya grabbed him with both hands and led him to a chair. “Sit. Please.”

Obeying seemed the only way for her to let him be, so he did. Talking only added to the pounding in his head. Even keeping his eyes open to watch her whirling around the room was painful. Arthur rested his head on the back of the seat, waiting for the silence to relieve him. The brush on his temples pushed him to open his eyes again and he tried to get away.

“Don’t move.”

The pressure she applied on his temples momentarily increased the pain and he nearly succumbed to it. Then she began moving her fingers and the circling of her fingertips slowly became comfortable.

Her hands were cool on his feverish skin and his heartbeat calmed down. The gentle touch continued, steadily appeasing the hammering in his head. When the thumping decreased to a more bearable drum, Arthur tried to grab her wrists to make her stop.

“Shush…Let me.”

The caress was hypnotic. The movement created a different rhythm in his chest, mysterious and arousing. Arthur inhaled deeply and when Maya removed her hands, he instantly missed the contact.

“Better?”

“Yes; thank you.”

The fabric of the covers rustled softly when she sat on the bed.

“Do you have such headaches often?”

“It’s nothing.”

“I don’t believe you; you were as white as a sheet.”

The upset in her voice was clear in spite of the hushed tone. Arthur flashed his trademark smirk.

“You sound so worried I might think you like me…”

Maya glanced up to the ceiling, sighing, and pushed up on her feet.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I need to go home after the ball and I don’t feel like taking a taxi for such a ride.”

The retort brought another smile, though less arrogant. She moved to her luggage. Arthur gazed at her unpacking for a moment, before he stood up in turn, walking to the window to check on the garden below.

“The migraines come from fatigue and stress. Some people have panic attacks. I have headaches. I stayed up late yesterday to finish with…”

He trailed off, and walked to the bed she had abandoned, testing the firmness of the mattress.

Maya remembered in a rush the heaviness of his hand on her hip earlier; his coming to her apartment the previous Saturday night; and how he had hugged her some days earlier after working all night long. Her heart made a funny little flip at the realization that he seemed to find peace with her.