Too many maybes, too many questions the answers to which only she knew and no longer remembered. And it was driving him mad.
What if her dislike came back in full force, and this persona he adored vanished when her mind and psyche did heal completely?
The temptation to claim her now, bind her to him, negate the possibility, was too much.
He looked down in her eyes. They were fathomless with need. He could reach out and take her, and she’d be his. Ecstatically. She seemed to want him as much as he wanted her.
But did she? Or did she only think she did, because of some need to reassert her own life after surviving the accident that had claimed Mel’s? Was he merely convenient, close? Or was she responding to him out of gratitude?
Whatever the reason, he didn’t believe she was responsible for her desires, or capable of making a decision with so much missing from her memory.
And then there was his side of the story.
He had no doubt he wouldn’t be betraying Mel’s memory. Mel was dead, and even while he’d lived, his relationship with Cybele had been anything but healthy or happy. If he could be the one to offer her that relationship, he would do anything for that chance.
But how could he live with himself if he betrayed her trust? And she did trust him. Implicitly. With her life. Was now showing him that she trusted him with her body, maybe her heart and future.
Yet how could he resist? Need was gnawing him hollow. And feeling her answering yearning was sending him out of his mind.
He had to plan a distraction, an intervention.
He stopped himself from cupping her face, running his fingers down her elegant nose, her sculpted cheekbones, teasing those dainty lips open, plunging his thumb inside their moistness and dampening their rose-petal softness, bending to taste her then absorbing her gasps, thrusting inside her…
He staggered away from temptation, rasped, “I have to get back to work.”
She gasped at the loss of his support, bit her lip, nodded.
Coward. Work was a few hours’ excuse to stay away. He had to do whatever would keep him away from her until she healed and came to him with her full, unclouded, unpressured choice.
He exerted what remained of his will. “And before I forget, I wanted to tell you that I’m inviting my family for a visit.”
Cybele stared up at Rodrigo.
For a moment there, as he’d held her against him, she’d thought he felt what she did, wanted what she did. She’d thought he’d take her in his arms, and she’d never be homeless again.
But it had all been in her mind. He’d torn himself away, the fierceness and the bleakness that had evaporated during the past four weeks settling back over him. She’d read him all wrong.
But he’d read her all right. There was no way he hadn’t seen her desire, understood her plea for him.
And he’d recoiled from her offer, from her need, as if they’d injured him, or worse, tainted him.
But though he was too kind to castigate her for testing the limits of their situation when he’d never encouraged her to, he’d still found a way to draw the line again and keep her behind it.
He was inviting his family over. Now that she’d been so stupid as to come on to him, to offer him what he hadn’t asked for and didn’t want, he was making sure she’d no longer have unsupervised access to him to repeat the mistake. He was inviting them as chaperones.
That had to be his reason for suddenly thinking of inviting them. Just yesterday, they’d been talking about their families and he hadn’t brought up his intention. He’d even said it would be the first year that no one came to stay at his estate at all. And she’d gotten the distinct feeling he’d been…relieved about that fact. Probably because he’d had all the distractions he could afford in the form of Mel’s death and her recuperation.
But her irresponsible behavior was forcing him to put up with even more distractions than she’d caused him, through his extensive family’s presence, probably until he decreed she was well enough to be let back into the wild. Which could mean weeks, maybe months.
It felt like a wake-up slap. One she’d needed. Not only couldn’t she let him swamp himself with family just to keep her at arm’s length, she couldn’t burden him with more responsibility toward her, this time over her emotions and desires-which in his terminal nobility he was probably taking full blame for inciting. She’d burdened him enough, when she had no right to burden him at all. She had to stop leaning on him, stop taking advantage of his kindness and support. And she had to do it now, before her emotions got any deeper.
Not that she thought they could. What she felt for him filled her, overflowed.
Only one bright side to this mess. Though she’d betrayed herself and imposed on him, she was now certain she hadn’t done that when Mel had been in the picture. She’d repressed her feelings before, and they must have broken free after the accident.
All she could do now was fade from his life, let him continue it free from the liability of her. She had to pick up the pieces of her life, plan how to return to a demanding job with a baby on the way, without counting on the help of a mother she was now sure wouldn’t come through for her as Cybele had remembered she’d promised.
Cybele didn’t need her mother. She’d long ago learned not to. And it wasn’t Rodrigo’s fault that she needed him emotionally. Any other kind of need had to end. Right now.
She had to leave immediately, so he wouldn’t have to call his whole family to his rescue. She had to stop wasting his time, cutting into his focus and setting back his achievements.
The moment they reentered the house, she opened her mouth to say what she had to, but he talked over her.
“When I relocated here, it seemed to me that Catalans search for reasons to gather and celebrate. It was explained to me that because they’ve fought so fiercely to preserve their language and identity, they take extra pride in preparing and executing their celebrations. My family is thoroughly Catalan, and they’re big on family unity and cultural traditions. And since I built this place over five years ago, it has replaced my grandparents’ home as the place to gather. It would be a shame to interrupt the new tradition.”
He was trying to make his sudden decision look as though it had nothing to do with her snuggling up against him like a cat in heat. She wanted to cry out for him to shut up and quit being so thoughtful. She had to say her piece and he was making it so much harder. Comparing those festivities and family gatherings with the barrenness of her own life was another knife that would twist in her heart once she was away from here.