The Bedroom Surrender

‘You can’t put what I want in a suitcase. I don’t care if you dress up or not.’

She raised her eyebrows mockingly. ‘No ornamental display?’

‘Irrelevant.’

‘Just the naked truth.’

His eyes derided her reading of him. ‘That I would like, but not in the limited sense you mean.’

A convulsive little shiver ran down her spine as she felt his purpose to invade far more than her body. Rosalie fiercely argued to herself that she was a curiosity to him, an enigma in his kind of world, and he’d teased himself into wanting to know what made her tick. She didn’t stop to examine what she felt towards him because it was too threatening to her peace of mind.

‘I don’t have time for you, Adam.’

‘Make time.’

The sheer magnetism of the man tugged at her. She’d felt nothing like this before with anyone. It was as though he was claiming her, and all her self-protective instincts rose to fight any surrender to his will.

‘You make time…for your daughter,’ she hurled back at him.

It did not hit any discernible mark. ‘I do,’ he replied, still maintaining an implacable concentration on her. ‘I take Cate with me during her school holidays. During term I send her postcards from wherever I am. She can call me on my mobile telephone whenever she likes.’

‘She’s been here for the first week of her summer holidays.’

‘Not because I failed to be available. It was her choice.’

‘And what does that choice say to you, Adam? What does your daughter get with Celeste’s family that she doesn’t get with you?’

‘Since you’re bursting to tell me…tell me.’

Rosalie paused, the challenge ringing in her ears, demanding truths that he could recognise, take on board. He was not as much at fault as she had assumed where Cate was concerned. Her mind flitted through all the silent criticisms she had made, trying to home in on the basic problem.

‘She’s flaunting it in your face, Adam.’

‘What?’

‘Secure ground that’s not going to change.’

He frowned, grimaced, made a gesture encompassing the grounds around them. ‘This is not my life. Any more than it’s yours. I can’t change who I am.’

‘She craves what Celeste has—a place to come home to, being an integral part of a family where children are a blessing not a nuisance to be accommodated.’

‘I have never treated Cate as a nuisance.’ Vehement denial.

‘What of your girlfriends? Cate mentioned a string of them. When you have your daughter with you, do you spend much time with her one on one, or is she an extra?’

Another frown. ‘She’s never seemed to mind when I’ve had a companion.’

‘What choice does she have but to fit in…if she wants to be with you?’

‘I take her wherever she wants to go. We have a lot of fun together.’

‘You entertain her.’

‘Something wrong with that?’ he rumbled as though barely holding back an explosion of frustration with her argument.

‘It’s froth and bubble, Adam. It doesn’t ease the loneliness inside. The sense of being a floating part of your life, not of any prime consideration, is eating away at Cate. If you really care about her, take her somewhere special these holidays—just the two of you—and get to know her as a person. She’s thirteen. She needs to feel someone loves her for who she is inside.’

He reined in the anger that had been simmering. His eyes scoured hers, searching for ulterior motives to attach to her diatribe against him. There were none. Rosalie stood her ground, waiting for his response, willing him to give her what she needed.

‘Why do you care so much?’ he asked gruffly.

‘Who will if I don’t?’

He shook his head. ‘Catie is not your business.’

‘Caring for children is my business, Adam.’

‘She’s not an orphan.’

‘She’s in need.’

He frowned, but he didn’t refute what she’d said, which might or might not be a step forward. His expression hardened and his narrowed eyes flashed a cynical look at her. ‘Who knows the person you are inside, Rosalie?’

‘My family.’

‘All fourteen of your brothers and sisters and the people who adopted you?’

‘Some more, some less. Overall we’re a very close-knit unit, supportive of each other.’

She was arguing Cate’s cause because Rebel had asked it of her, though she was sympathetic to it, as well. Oddly enough, she no longer felt so antagonistic towards Adam Cazell. He was not a bad father. Given the man he was and the life he led, he’d certainly made the effort to be a presence in his daughter’s life.

His mouth tilted into a wry little smile as he commented, ‘Then you’re very fortunate…in your family.’

He turned his head, gazing out over the lake, and she sensed his withdrawal from her. He stood a man apart, strongly self-contained, yet possibly he felt very alone on his pinnacle of singular achievement. She wondered about him, whether he’d had parents who’d made the time to know him, siblings who were brought up with him, sharing. What of his ex-wife, his girlfriends…had they ever touched his heart…his soul?

Observing him wrapped in his own thoughts, she was struck by the idea he’d always walked alone, knew nothing else. A man like him had few peers, and those that were would be in contest with him. That was the nature of the beast. As for the women in his life, had any of them seen past what he could give them? Huge wealth and the power that went with it might have been enough for them.

Perhaps she’d been blinded by it herself in making her judgment of him. Impulsively she stepped closer and touched his arm to bring him back from wherever he’d gone. ‘You and Cate could form a wonderful bond if you reached out to her,’ she pressed.

His biceps muscle tensed. His gaze fastened on hers, bypassing her plea with a piercing intensity that demanded something far more personal. ‘What of us?’ he shot out, his other hand lifting to grasp her arm.

It was like an electric jolt zapping through her.

Shocked, immobilised, mind jammed, Rosalie could only stare back at him.

‘Why trust Cate with me when you haven’t taken the time to know the person I am inside, Rosalie James?’

The words punched into her heart.

The need pulsing from him took her breath away.

Then something deep and alien to her stirred inside Rosalie, a sexual awakening that she had never expected to experience, a wanting to know this man in every sense, a yearning for the kind of love she knew existed between her sisters and the men they’d married. Yet even as she felt this, panic screamed into her mind, beating up the fearful thought—it’s not safe!

‘Da…ad!’ came the exasperated call from his daughter.

His jaw tightened. His eyes bit into hers with ruthless and relentless purpose. ‘Don’t think I’ll walk out of your life, Rosalie. We’ll meet again.’

She was left shaken to the core as he released her arm. Her own hand slid limply from his as he turned to face Cate who’d started down the path towards them and now stood waiting, her arms folded with an air of impatience. Or was it resentment that he’d gone off with yet another woman instead of waiting for her?

She’d seen them touching.

Rosalie struggled to block what Adam had said to her out of her mind…focus on the child who was no longer really a child. Her legs carried her automatically, keeping pace with Adam’s. They walked apart, but the sense of an inevitable link with him could not be broken.

They reached Cate.

Adam put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and the stiffness instantly went out of them. He hugged her close, smiling, chatting, and she glowed up at him, loving his attention.

He didn’t speak to Rosalie again, not in any personal sense. He said a general goodbye to the family, thanking them for their hospitality. All of them trooped out to watch him and Cate drive away from Davenport Hall, the car moving slowly down the avenue of giant elms, as though being gradually drawn through a tunnel to a different time and place.

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