“I hear you,” Felicity said. “You have every reason to be concerned. But I want you to keep a couple of things in mind. First, Luc is strong. He will get through this. And he has you to help him. That’s a huge plus. He loves you, he trusts you. If anyone can help him heal, it’s you. But second and most importantly, we have time. Marco will get a heads-up when they want him back. And if that’s sooner than we hope, Marco will figure out a way to stall. It doesn’t benefit anyone for Luc to go back before he’s ready. We’re here to help you both, Natalie. We’ll do whatever we can to help Luc in his recovery.”
I knew she meant every word. But I also knew Marco and Felicity had their own agenda. They wanted Luc healthy so that when he eventually took his father’s position as the Grand Duke, he could challenge the leaders of his House and instigate a rebellion.
But I didn’t give a shit about any of that. All I cared about was Luc and finding a way to bring back the confident, sexy, charismatic man I’d fallen in love with. And I was deathly afraid that I was never going to be able to reach that man.
“Has he setup an appointment with the counselor I wrote down before I left?” Felicity asked.
“No. And I haven’t pushed after the first time I suggested it, when he nearly lost it with me.”
“Probably smart. Leave the name out somewhere he can see it. Maybe that will get him thinking about talking to someone. And in the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. He’ll get there, Natalie. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but this will get better.”
I tried to tell myself that all through the rest of our call, but by the time I hung up, I still wasn’t convinced.
As Luc slowed to a walk in the afternoon light and drew close to where I sat in the sand, though, I fixed a smile on my face and pretended to be the optimistic, strong wife he needed. Even if inside I was bubbling with nerves and fears and a thousand self doubts.
“Hey, you,” I said as he stopped, all sweaty and muscular and gorgeous in his gym shorts, tennis shoes, and loose tank, and leaned down to grab the water bottle he’d left by my side. “How was your run?”
“Tough. I hate the fucking sand.”
My grin widened. “It’s supposed to be tough. That’s why athletes train in the sand.”
He frowned, tipped his head back and poured water into his mouth. After swallowing, he said, “I’m not an athlete.”
No, he was mine. And I wasn’t about to let him forget that.
“How’s Fee?” he asked, lowering the water bottle.
“Fine. A little frustrated at her parents’ place, I think. Her mother’s been badgering her about grandchildren.”
Luc huffed and looked out at the gray water lashing the beach. “Marco and Felicity with a kid. That’d be a sight to see.”
I studied his profile, strong and handsome and almost regal. No one who saw him on the street would ever know what kind of hell he’d been through. “Do you ever think about that? Kids?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“Nope.”
I was a little taken aback by that. I knew he came from a really screwed up family, but he adored his sister, and underneath his burly exterior, he was a very kind and loving man. One who was nurturing and protective. The kind of man who’d make an excellent father.
He looked down at me in the sand, but it wasn’t with the same loving, awe-filled eyes he’d gazed at me with the last few days. His gray eyes were choppy, swirling stormy waves that matched the ocean at his back. “You obviously have.”
“Well, no. I mean...” I looked out at the water, suddenly unsettled. We hadn’t ever had this conversation, and I knew this wasn’t really the time to be having it now, not with everything else he was dealing with but... “I don’t know. I haven’t not thought about it. It just hasn’t come up.”
“You want kids.”
There was no excitement in his voice. In fact, I was pretty sure I heard disappointment.
Heart suddenly pounding, I looked up at him. “Not right now. But in five to ten years...” I shrugged, thinking about his island, suddenly envisioning him chasing a little miniature him or me down the beach. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
He stared at me for several moments, and in the silence I shivered, not from the cold but from the fact I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling or if that was the wrong thing for me to have said.
Finally, he blinked and held out his hand. “Come on. It’s cold. You need to get inside where it’s warm. And I need a shower.”
I lifted my hand to his and let him pull me to my feet.
He didn’t let go of me as we crossed the sand and stepped onto the grass. Didn’t let go of me as we entered the house and he closed the kitchen door at my back. Didn’t let go of me as we climbed the back stairs and he led me into our room. And when he turned to me and tugged the blanket from my shoulders, then reached for the hem of my sweater and pulled it up and over my head, I let him.
I let him without protest or question because I sensed he needed me again. Whatever our brief conversation on the beach had stirred in him was dark and threatened to pull him under. And he needed me—my touch, my lips, my body—to bring him back.
He stripped me of the rest of my clothes and pulled me into the bathroom. After flipping on the water, he came back to me and tugged off his own garments. And when he reached for me, I willingly went into his arms under the spray of the shower and let him have whatever he wanted. As often as he wanted it. Just as I’d done this whole last week.
And I prayed that somehow, I would be enough. And that eventually, this shadow living beside me would transform back into the man I couldn’t live without.
“Natalie,” a voice whispered near my ear. “Wake up.”
I sighed and snuggled into my pillow, wondering what had pulled me out of the deep and mindless sleep I’d been in, wanting only to drift right back into it again.
“Angioletto,” Luc whispered in my ear again, this time shaking me. “I need to talk to you.”
I grunted and tried to roll away from him, but his hand on my side wouldn’t let me. “Tired,” I mumbled. “Talk later.”
“No, we need to talk now. It’s important.”
I sighed again and blinked, realizing the room was still dark. Pulling my eyes open, I looked up to find he was sitting up in bed, looking down at me with very focused, almost troubled eyes.
Alarm bells went off in my head, bringing me fully awake. For nearly a week, all he’d wanted to do was sleep and make love. Talking had not been high on his priority list, so the fact he wanted to talk now, in the middle of the night, set off a tremor of nerves inside me.
Brushing the hair out of my eyes, I pushed up from the mattress and tried to stay calm. “What time is it?”
“Late.”
Okay, that didn’t tell me a lot. “Did something happen?”
“No. Yes. Merda. Sorta.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I need to know what you meant earlier.”
My brow lowered, and I racked my brain, trying to figure out what I could have said that had thrown him so off-kilter. After we’d made love in the shower, we’d had dinner, watched a movie, and gone to bed. I’d barely talked at all. “I-I don’t know what you mean.”