A Shameful Consequence(43)

‘The driver’s here.’ She turned her face from his hungry kisses and quickly tied up her dress.

‘He can wait,’ Nico said.

‘Well, I can’t.’ Connie almost ran to the bathroom to fix her face, calling over her shoulder as she went, ‘I’m starving.’

So fierce was his want, as she sat in the car Connie was nervous, she could feel the charge between them, felt like she was keeping a tiger at bay with a paltry stick. She knew sex was on the menu tonight, but how could she explain her nerves at making love after the baby—not at the changes to her body but the anticipation of pain?

As the car pulled up, Nico turned to her and she knew exactly what he was suggesting. ‘We could get them to deliver.’

‘I thought you were bored, eating in.’

His hand was hot and dry as it closed around hers, his thumb pressing into her palm as they walked in. And Connie could not have cared less about the other guests. Her mind was only on him, on tonight, on the thought of this beautiful man unleashed. And in a place where heads usually refused to turn because it meant someone was more interesting, when the two of them entered and were led through the restaurant to a balcony table, heads did turn, such was their energy, such was the pulse that throbbed between them.

She had always known that he was beautiful, but even here he stood out—and curious eyes looked at them, trying to place him, for certainly he was someone.

He ordered champagne.

‘Which is what you were drinking when I found you.’ And it was a curious choice of words, Connie thought, but that was exactly as it had been. That night, not only had Nico found her but she had started to find herself. ‘But I’ll treat you to a glass this time!’

She loved his humour, loved it that when she smiled at his words, then so, too, did he. Private memories wrapped around them at a small table and he was, for once, so unguarded, so delicious that when the waiter came over, she wanted to ask if rope was on the menu: she needed tethering to the chair, just so she wouldn’t go over to him.

The champagne was delicious. Unlike that first night, today she tasted it. Connie liked the taste, the cool and the bubbles and, with Nico opposite, his eyes making love to her already, every sense was heightened. She could smell the fragrant herbs from the kitchen, hear the chatter and laughter surrounding them and feel the breeze from the ocean cooling her cheeks. She was aware of her own breasts as she leant forward, saw him swallow as he glimpsed violet lace—and tonight he would have her, of that she was deliciously, albeit, terrifyingly certain.

It was nice to be out.

So nice to not have one ear open for her baby, so nice to concentrate on the conversation, to be here with this beautiful man, except it was too nice sometimes, for as they spoke, as they shared a little more of themselves with each other she was reminded, as if she could ever forget it, of the terrible day that was surely to come.

‘I met with a detective today,’ Nico said, and her cutlery hesitated over her food, and she had to remind herself to cut it, had to speak as though dread were not clutching her heart.

‘Has he found anything out?’

‘Nothing.’ Nico let out a hiss of frustration. ‘Every hospital, the children’s home, adoption agencies … there was no adoption, he says. Or rather, no legal one. This weekend I am going to speak to my parents. I want answers.’

‘Will they help?’ Connie asked, and her heart was truly torn between protecting her family or telling him.

‘Probably not.’

‘You’re not even sure that you are adopted.’ She burnt with guilt as she tried to divert him.

‘I’m sure.’ Black eyes met hers. ‘I sat on that ferry on the way to the wedding and I could her a baby screaming … I was on that ferry …’ It was too hard to explain it.

‘Will knowing change anything?’ He did not answer. It was, Connie decided, the most stupid question. He had a right to know his history, a right to know his past. It was her family’s part in it that had prevented her from revealing the truth. If it weren’t for that she would be helping him, supporting him, instead of sitting here lying and praying that somehow he might forgive her when he found out, might not destroy the family that, despite it all, she loved. ‘There might have been reasons …’

‘Then I have a right know them,’ Nico said darkly, because every night he dreaded sleep, every time he looked in the mirror he felt as if were going mental. Every time his parents denied it, they lied just a little bit more and he needed to know and then he needed revenge.