Kitabı oku: «The From Paris With Love And Regency Season Of Secrets Ultimate Collection», sayfa 72

CHAPTER TEN

HAVING Greyson home and taking care of her was the sweetest form of torture. The live-in nurse had not eventuated—Greyson had eventuated, and he hovered like a protective lover and father-to-be and he kissed and held her often. Long leisurely tastes of her and quick stolen kisses, he delighted in them both and Charlotte in turn delighted in him.

They slept in the same bed but they held off with the lovemaking. Two weeks, the specialist had said. Longer, if she felt uneasy about the notion or if she had any more spotting, but there’d been no more of that.

Almost all of Greyson’s Galapagos project scientists were back in Australia now. Two team members had volunteered to stay behind and hold the fort. The group would rotate the stay-behind duty, but according to Greyson there were enough willing hands up for more than one stint at being left behind that the ones who had responsibilities back home wouldn’t need to ante up if they didn’t want to. He was more than happy with his team. There were some fantastic, experienced, and multi-skilled people on it. All this Charlotte gleaned from a relatively communicative Greyson.

What she hadn’t managed to glean from him was when he’d be heading out next and how long he planned to be away.

Truth be told, the man seemed to be having a wee bit of trouble leaving her side. A development that amused the hell out of Millie and Derek, and even Greyson’s mother, the formidable Olivia, who’d taken to dropping by a few times a week to check on Charlotte’s progress.

‘How does it look?’ asked Charlotte some three weeks after the accident, shirt off and bra on as she sat on the edge of the long narrow hallway sideboard that Olivia had deemed suitable as a makeshift examination table. Nothing like undressing in front of one’s potential mother-in-law to break down a few barriers.

‘Lie back,’ said Olivia briskly, and Charlotte obliged and Olivia began to press down on Charlotte’s ribs, one section at a time. ‘Tell me when it hurts.’

But it didn’t hurt and Charlotte sat up beaming. ‘That’s good, right?’

‘Right,’ said Olivia dryly. ‘But no moving mountains just yet.’

‘I don’t want to move mountains.’ Charlotte’s words came out muffled courtesy of the shirt she was tugging over her head. ‘Just Greyson.’

She pulled the shirt down and eased off the sideboard to find Olivia regarding her with guarded eyes. ‘Olivia, may I ask you an awkward medical question?’

‘If you must.’ Olivia had a pained look on her face. Olivia had probably been a doctor long enough to know where this conversation was going.

‘It’s just that since the accident Greyson and I haven’t—I mean, we don’t—and I’d like to, and it’s okay to now, right? The specialist said two weeks, and it’s been three, so …’

‘As long as you’re careful.’

‘Great. Thanks.’ No need to dwell on the subject. No need to go anywhere near the subject with Greyson’s mother ever, ever, again. Fortunately, Charlotte had another question lined up, which would steer the conversation elsewhere. ‘Olivia, may I ask you advice on another issue? It’s not medical. It’s about Greyson.’

‘That boy,’ said Olivia. ‘What’s he done now?’

‘Nothing,’ said Charlotte defensively. And at the glimmer of amusement in Olivia’s eye, ‘Oh, I get it. Mothers are allowed to criticise their children. Just … no one else can.’

‘Exactly.’ Olivia offered up a smile, and Charlotte blinked. ‘So, what’s he done? Apart from nothing.’

‘I’m worried that he’s neglecting his work. Because of me. He won’t say when he’s going back to the Galapagos. I’m worried that he’ll abandon this project altogether in favour of staying here in Sydney. With me.’

‘Most pregnant women I know would want their partners at their side,’ commented Olivia mildly.

‘I do. But not at the expense of taking away everything Greyson’s worked hard for. I know what your son is, Olivia. I know what he needs and it’s freedom, and challenge, and the world at his fingertips. I won’t trap him. I refuse to.’

‘Then go with him,’ said Olivia.

‘I was thinking more along the lines of staying here and encouraging Greyson to come and go. That was the pre-accident agreement. It doesn’t seem to be the post-accident one.’

‘I should hope not,’ said Olivia sternly. ‘It’s about time Greyson realised that he now has responsibilities beyond himself and his work. It won’t break him to honour them.’

‘But what if it does?’ said Charlotte, and with those words exposed her deepest fears. ‘What if turning away from the work and the lifestyle he loves does break him?’

‘Or you could go with him,’ said Olivia. ‘Given the extensive travelling you’re accustomed to, I really don’t see why that’s out of the question. Good medical care can be found almost everywhere these days if money is no object, and in your case it doesn’t seem to be. Come back for the birth of my grandchild. Compromise.’

Charlotte ran a hand through her hair, sorting through Olivia’s words and her bone-deep resistance to them. ‘I stopped travelling when my godmother retired,’ she said hesitantly. ‘I was ready to stop. I’d been ready for years. I wanted—needed—a place to belong. A home. I still want that.’

‘Charlotte, do you love my son?’

‘I do.’ Charlotte eased off the sideboard and together she and Olivia walked back towards the kitchen where cups of tea beckoned and confidences were encouraged. ‘He’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of in a man. And so much more.’

‘That’s good,’ said Olivia. ‘Because if I’m any judge of my son, he certainly loves you. Enough to give up his Galapagos posting and stay by your side if that’s what you want, and what you need from him.’

‘But it’s not what I want.’ Charlotte felt the sting of tears behind her eyes. ‘I don’t know what I want.’

‘I’ve never told you how I met Greyson’s father, have I?’ said Olivia conversationally, helping herself to the tea leaves and spooning them into Aurora’s old tin pot. ‘I was a very earnest young doctor interning at Randwick Hospital. Seth was a skipper on a forty-metre super yacht. He’d brought a crewman who’d dislocated his shoulder into Casualty. I had dinner with him when my shift finished. Two months later I was sailing around the world with him. Greyson was born eight months later. We married six months after that, on a beach in Tahiti. Seth wasn’t skippering super yachts any more, at this point. We had another yacht, a smaller one, and we were on our way back to Australia. It took us three more years to get there.’

‘Really?’ Charlotte’s mind boggled at the carefree picture the immaculate Olivia Greenstone had painted. ‘You raised Greyson on a boat?’

‘Many ports. Many boats, some of which I loved more than others.’ Olivia smiled at her memories, really smiled. ‘There was this one yacht … ugh. I’ll tell you about it some day.’

‘Tell me now,’ said Charlotte, but Olivia shook her head.

‘No, let me make my point first. The point being that the one truth I learned during that time we were travelling around was that as long as Seth and Greyson were with me, I could turn anywhere into a home. Our home. As long as they were with me.’

‘But you only did three years of it,’ countered Charlotte. ‘It gets harder.’ So much harder with the years.

‘And that’s something Greyson would do well to take into account,’ said Olivia. ‘As his father did, when he brought us home.’

‘How did it end?’ asked Charlotte, totally fascinated. ‘Why did it end?’

‘It ended back here in Sydney,’ said Olivia. ‘With a job in yacht design for Seth, a little boy who needed schooling and children his own age to play with, and a chance for me to return to the medical profession. Charlotte, I know I’m biased. I want what’s best for my son and always will, but you’re family now and I want what’s best for you too. Take a chance on Greyson. Go with him the next time he goes to the Galapagos. Maybe the time after that, he’ll feel happier about leaving you here. Maybe you’ll happily go with him again. Things might get chaotic for a while, given the amount of work you both have on and the imminent arrival of my grandbaby, but I’m confident that if you could just bring yourself to trust your instincts and Greyson’s … love will lead you home.’

Charlotte stewed over Olivia’s words for two long days, turning them inside out and upside down looking for flaws, or dishonesty or hidden agendas. She didn’t find any. She needed to know what Greyson was thinking when it came to the Galapagos project and going away. She needed to know these thoughts sooner rather than later.

By Charlotte’s reckoning, today was the day.

A sweet autumn Saturday and they were cleaning out Aurora’s study; a mammoth job that involved Greyson hefting and Charlotte directing from the comfort of Aurora’s leather studded office chair that lived behind a vast mahogany desk. Such blatant displays of power and wealth didn’t come cheap, and Charlotte planned to put them to good use for the foundation. This would be the shakedown room, the place where her will met the wills of influential investors and project partners.

Just as soon as they’d cleared the last of Aurora’s things away, and sorted out exactly where their combined priorities lay.

Greyson had found one of her father’s journals, half an hour or so ago, and Charlotte had settled back in the fancy chair to read it. The chair reclined in armchair fashion and the table had seemed as good a place for her feet as any. Greyson had sniggered when she’d made herself at home.

‘If only your archaeology students could see you now,’ he murmured, between toting and hauling and proving himself a thoroughly useful individual. ‘I knew that get-up that the good Professor Greenstone wore to work wasn’t the real you.’

‘Wait till you see what Director Greenstone of the Greenstone Foundation has in store for you,’ she promised in dulcet tones. ‘She’s going to be channelling Katharine Hepburn. Besides, you can talk, Mr Eminent Botanist. Where’s your tweed jacket with the elbow patches?’

‘I don’t own one.’

‘Surely, though, you own a shirt?’

He grinned in thoroughly wicked fashion before turning his back on her and hauling down yet another stack of books from the highest row of bookshelves, giving her a stunning view of tanned skin and manly back muscles at play. ‘I own several shirts,’ he said loftily. ‘But even in the field, the wearing of one is optional.’

As far as Charlotte was concerned, this was just one more reason to go with him next time he ventured forth.

‘Greyson, when are you going to the Galapagos again?’

He shot her a lightning glance and kept right on toting.

‘I’m not,’ he offered finally. ‘I’m off the project just as soon as they find a replacement.’

‘Oh.’ It was worse than she’d thought. Far, far worse. ‘That’s a pity. I was hoping to join you there this time. I wanted to see the tortoises.’

‘Tortoises,’ he echoed stupidly, box of books still in hand.

‘And the iguanas.’

No repetition on the iguana statement.

‘And I wanted to be with you.’

‘You can be,’ he said gruffly. ‘Here.’

‘Here’s overrated,’ she murmured. ‘Especially when it comes at so high a cost.’ Time to change tack. ‘There’s some interesting information in this diary. Very interesting, and very useful. For example, my father talks about a promising archaeological site that he wanted to go back to some day. In Ecuador. That’s near the Galapagos.’

‘I know where it is, Charlotte.’ Grey dumped the books on the window seat and turned to face her, one deliciously dishevelled man with don’t-mess-with-me in his eyes.

‘I’m just saying,’ she said mildly.

‘What are you saying?’ he snapped, not so mildly. Testy. Maybe their continued lack of sexual intimacy was getting to him more than he let on. Something else Charlotte planned to fix before this day was through.

‘I’m just saying that you can’t babysit me for the rest of your life, much as it seems to be your main goal at this particular point in time. You’d go mad. I’d go mad. And your career would go down the drain. That’s not a scenario that appeals to me. Speaking of which, you should probably email bigwig Ellie and tell her you’ve changed your mind about giving up the Galapagos project leadership. I’d be inclined to tell her that, give or take a month either side of our baby’s due delivery date, you’ll stay on the job. As for your next trip, you can drop me in Ecuador on the way. We can meet up on some little island paradise on the weekends. You could bring a shirt. Or not.’

‘Drop you in Ecua—’ Greyson seemed to be have difficulty keeping up his end of the conversation. ‘Are you insane?’

‘Now is that any way to speak to your future wife?’

‘What?’

‘I forgive you, of course. I’ll chalk it up to you being overwhelmed by my brilliant plan.

As for getting married, it seems only prudent if we’re going to be travelling together, especially with the baby. Authorities are very fond of minors travelling with natural parents of the same surname. It saves all sorts of lengthy explanations, and I should know. Having a different surname from Aurora’s was the bane of our lives.’

But Greyson would not be sidetracked. ‘We are not travelling to Ecuador with the baby.’

‘I thought you said you wanted a wife and family who’d be open to travel,’ argued Charlotte sweetly.

‘That was before I had one!’

‘Not that you do,’ said Charlotte. ‘Have one, that is. Strictly speaking, we’d have to be married for that particular statement to hold true.’ She eyed the flint-eyed piece of steaming, stupendously muscled manhood standing before her with a thoughtful yet fully appreciative gaze. ‘What are you doing next Wednesday?’

Dr Greyson Tyler, eminent botanist, expedition leader and all round useful guy, wasn’t an unreasonable man. He tolerated insanity in others. He took his time and tried to work around it. He stayed calm and employed patience, secure in the knowledge that good sense and superior powers of reasoning would eventually hold sway. They had to, now more so than ever. This was his future wife and child they were talking about.

Unfortunately, all his fine qualities seemed to have temporarily deserted him.

‘What kind of man drags his wife and newborn to the end of the earth and back?’ he roared.

‘So … you’re opposed to the idea?’ said Charlotte.

‘Yes, I’m opposed to the idea! It’s a very bad idea.’

‘Even though I have a comprehensive knowledge of what’s involved and you have a wonderfully protective streak that should stand us in good stead?’

Greyson glared at her.

Charlotte stifled a delighted grin. Olivia had been so right. There was compromise to be had here—in Greyson, and within herself. A commitment to family that would always bring them home. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Let’s assume that I do happen to agree with you when it comes to traipsing around Ecuador with a newborn. Let’s assume that I want to give birth here in Sydney and get the hang of motherhood with grandparents in tow, and a doting Millie, and a long-suffering Derek, and most of all with you at my side. I’ll give you that one.’

‘Keep talking,’ said Greyson, so she did.

‘I’m talking about travelling with you to the Galapagos throughout my second trimester and maybe a little way into the third. I’m talking about finding me somewhere lovely to stay on San Cristobal, somewhere with good hospital facilities just in case, while you go do your work and Millie and Derek go looking for my father’s site. I’m talking about not being emphatically opposed to travelling with you if future work opportunities demand it. We could choose our locations carefully. We could keep this as our home. We could have the best of both worlds.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Very.’ Time to get up and walk towards him, take his hands in hers, and make him see that when it came to their future together she was and would always be serious. ‘I recently had a little epiphany.’

‘That makes two of us,’ he muttered.

‘Mine was about belonging,’ she said. ‘I’d been working towards it for a while but you hastened it along, and a recent conversation with your mother simply clarified where I was headed. Having a permanent home has always been this shining dream for me, you see. Home was the place where nothing bad ever happened and I was always in control—my perfect world where parents never died and I was surrounded by a family who loved me. Thing is, that place was always just a dream. Make believe to keep the loneliness at bay. The same way Gil was make believe. None of it was ever real. You are.’

‘That was your epiphany?’ he said, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. ‘That I’m real?’

‘No, it’s that being home isn’t about staying put and living in the one place. It’s about being with the man I love. Supporting him. Being there for him. And trusting him to know that when we do need to settle in one place for a time and raise our family, we will.’

‘I need to think,’ he muttered. ‘My epiphany involved staying here because that was what you wanted. Safety. Security. Stability. You walked away from me once because I couldn’t offer that to you—wouldn’t offer it. I’m offering it to you now.’

‘We do seem to be at cross purposes, don’t we?’ Charlotte sent him an encouraging smile. ‘But never fear. You’ll come round to my way of thinking eventually.’

But at this, he shook his head. ‘I can’t think here. I need to think.’ He broke away from her and strode to the window, a man in need of clarity, a man at the end of his wits. ‘I’m going for a swim.’

‘Excellent idea,’ murmured Charlotte. ‘The pool’s beautifully warm.’ She’d already taken a dip in it to do the stretching exercises the physio had recommended for her ribs and chest. She stretched again now, drawing Greyson’s gaze, deliberately adding physical desire to the cauldron and stirring gently. ‘Are bathers optional?’

‘Not in the pool,’ he said darkly. ‘In the harbour.’

‘Oh.’ Charlotte shuddered. ‘You’re on your own there.’ She wasn’t opposed to beach swimming or snorkelling around pristine island atolls; she loved the water. But Sydney Harbour was different. ‘Bring back some apples.’

‘You have a distinct problem with reality,’ he countered. ‘You know that, don’t you?’

‘Hello-o.’ Time to return to her chair and give her man the thinking time he’d demanded. Time to retreat behind the pages of her father’s journal. ‘Archaeologist.’

‘Believe me, I hadn’t forgotten,’ he said grimly. ‘Oh, and, Charlotte?’

‘Hmm?’ She peered over the top of the journal. ‘You spoke, my love?’

‘You mentioned marriage,’ he said curtly.

‘Yes. So I did.’

‘Wednesday’s fine.’

While Greyson cooled off in the water and planned his next move, Charlotte took advantage of his absence and planned hers. Sunset wasn’t all that far away and one thing their bedroom did have was a spectacular viewing window to the west and a harbour view that had sold the house to Aurora in the first place.

Greyson didn’t need candles but Charlotte lit some anyway. A man with a lot on his mind deserved as much. The nightgown she chose to wear was a wondrous piece of lavender silk and lace. The slave bracelets at her wrists added a nice hint of pagan. She shook out her hair and checked her ribs for tenderness. Feeling good. Still a little faded yellow bruising here and there, but the plan was to try and keep this nightgown on for the most part, and make Greyson forget her injuries and her recent brush with catastrophe. Life was for living, and live it she would.

Thank you, Aurora. You’d like him, I think. Greyson. My fiancé. He’s useful, and honourable, and he helped me find my way home.

If wishes were wishes …

My wish has come true.

Greyson came back from the harbour all showered and shaved and tidied up. He’d cleaned up on his boat, he’d put a shirt on over the knee length canvas shorts he usually reserved for sailing. It was a very nice shirt, collared, dove grey, as soft and as warm as cotton could be—Charlotte knew this from experience. He’d even buttoned it up.

Greyson’s eyes gleamed when he saw her. He looked like a man refreshed and ready for anything. Including her.

‘Feel better?’ she asked, and crossed to the sideboard where she’d set up a mini bar. Lime and soda for her, smooth Scotch in a round glass for him and she handed it to him with a smile and a challenge.

‘Much better.’

‘Decisive?’

‘Very.’ He eyed her nightgown with gratifying appreciation and her slave bracelets with sharp speculation. ‘And how is my fiancée feeling this fine, fine evening?’

‘Obliging.’

‘That’s good.’ Greyson’s voice had deepened to a husky rumble. ‘That’s very good.’

‘I thought we might enjoy the sunset together.’ Charlotte sipped her soda and admired the view before her. So much to admire about this man. The compromises he’d been willing to make for her and their child. His fierce intelligence and impressive focus. His strength of will and that beautiful hard body that he’d kept on a leash of late, on account of her injuries. She loved his protectiveness, for it spoke of his love for her. She loved him, body and soul. ‘If you wanted to, that is.’

‘I do.’

‘And then I thought you might want to enjoy me.’

‘I do.’ Greyson set his drink aside. ‘Never doubt it.’

Charlotte gently set her drink next to his. She slid her hands up to his shoulders and around the back of his neck. Greyson’s lips touched hers, gentle and worshipping. Not what she wanted from this man tonight. She deepened the kiss. Greyson’s kisses grew fiercer and more passionate, but his arms did not come around her to gather her close.

‘The doctor said—’ he began, and she shushed him with gentle fingers.

‘That was three weeks ago. The doctor says I’m fine and that our baby is fine and that there’s absolutely no reason why I can’t be making love to you if I’m careful.’

Charlotte freed the top few buttons on his shirt and pressed her lips to his collarbone. Greyson groaned again. Hard to say whether it was in dismay.

‘Charlotte, we can’t,’ he said huskily. ‘I can’t. I’m too …’

‘Protective?’ she said helpfully. ‘Stubborn?’

‘Too afraid I’ll hurt you,’ he muttered and brought his hands up to her face and his lips to hers for a kiss that fed her soul. ‘That I’ll ask for too much and you’ll give it and we’ll both regret it.’

‘That won’t happen. I love you, Greyson Tyler. I love who you are and what you do. I’m in—all the way in—but there’s balance here between us too. Can’t you feel it?’

‘I love you,’ he murmured gruffly. ‘There’s nothing I want more than to share my life with you. Travel with you, stay here and raise a family with you, build a foundation, work on my own projects. I want it all.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Because I want it all too, including your lovemaking.’ Charlotte stepped away from his touch, put her hand in his, and led him to the bed, urging him onto it, on his back, exactly where she wanted him. ‘Starting from now.’ She straddled him carefully, clothes and all. Plenty of time for the removal of clothes later. ‘We can do this.’ Leaning forward, she set her hands to Greyson’s shoulders and watched with satisfaction as his eyes flared and darkened. ‘We are doing this.’ She kissed the edge of his lips and the line of his jaw until finally she reached his ear.

‘What’s more,’ she whispered, ‘we’re going to love it.’