Anything He Wants: The Betrayal(23)
I made my way down the stairs, bypassing the kitchen completely. Food didn’t sound good right then; in fact very little sounded good at that moment, so I walked to the front door and peered outside. The air was chill, almost bitterly so. The milder weather we’d had for a while had taken a wintery turn. Snow flurries dotted the ground, but I didn’t care that my nose immediately began to sting from the frosty wind. A black limousine sat right in front of the large doors, exhaust a billowing cloud of steam in the icy air. I couldn’t imagine it belonged to Jeremiah. Surely he would have already left; it had been several minutes since he walked out. He’d suggested before that I could leave the grounds. Did he call this for me?
I’d stayed away from public places, keeping to the house and not leaving the estate even after the kidnapping attempt. I remained mindful that there was still somebody out there gunning for us, who was willing to use others to do his dirty work. At that moment, however, staring at the limo, I no longer cared—being shot through the heart couldn’t hurt any more than this. I left the house and moved to the car, opening the door and sliding inside. The interior was warm, a marked difference from the outside air, and up near the front I saw the dark head of the driver. “Where to, Ms. Delacourt?” he asked.
“Away from here,” I mumbled absently. Realizing the distance sound had to travel, I readied to repeat my answer louder but the car lurched forward, heading for the gates. I didn’t bother looking out the windows; instead I just stared at my hands, deep in thought.
What if Jeremiah was right? What if my feelings were premature, too soon to be considered genuine? It was reasonable that Jeremiah would hold off on sabotaging a relationship by acting too soon; there were still too many unknown variables in the equation. At least, that was how the rational side of my brain saw it—a man like Jeremiah must have similar issues with moving too fast.
The limo stopped briefly at the gate, and the guards quickly waved us through. I peeked through the back window, watching the great big gates close again, trying to ignore the squeezing in my chest. And really, it was only one part of our relationship with which he took issue. Such a silly word anyway. Love. I’d seen how he looked at me, the way he touched and held me. Really, Lucy, I thought, do you really need platitudes of devotion? “Love” is just a word.
Right?
A sob welled up from deep inside, surprising me with the sudden depth of emotion. My hand went to cover my mouth, determined to hold the inexplicable grief inside, but I couldn’t stop the shuddering breaths or the tears that abruptly appeared and flowed down my cheeks. It’s just a word, I thought again, but the pain wouldn’t stop. I knew what love was, I’d grown up in a household where it flowed freely. Wouldn’t I have a better idea of what the emotion felt like than Jeremiah anyway?
“Is everything alright back there, ma’am?”
“Everything’s just dandy,” I replied, my voice thick. Then for an instant it all became too much. “Got my heart broken today,” I admitted, “but I’m trying to get through it.”
“Ah,” the driver responded. “Well, my brother always was an idiot.”
I was in the middle of rummaging through my purse for a tissue when the meaning of the man’s words sank in. My head snapped up, grief and heartbreak momentarily forgotten, as I stared at the back of the driver’s head through the small partition. A hat covered his head, and the mirror was angled in a way that made it impossible to see his face. “Lucas?”
“In the flesh.” He pulled off his hat, uncovering dark hair. When he turned around to look at me, I saw that he wore makeup of some kind, presumably to get past the guards. His skin was lighter, the nose seemed bigger than I remembered, but the prominent scar on his cheek revealed his identity more than anything else. He gave me a quick perusal. “You look terrible.”
His words pricked my remaining feminine pride and I sat up straighter, glaring at him through the tears. Focusing on the matter at hand was a great deal easier than the emotional roller coaster. “What are you doing?” I asked, striving for bravado.
Lucas shrugged one shoulder. “Apparently, I’m kidnapping you. I thought you of all people would recognize that fact.”
I stared at him for a moment, flabbergasted, then groaned loudly. Slumping in the seat, I leaned my head back against the cool leather, suddenly too tired to think of fighting. Lucas watched me in the rearview mirror but I didn’t care; all I wanted was to not think, not remember my last conversation with Jeremiah.