Gabriela cocked her head slightly to one side, as if hearing something in his promise that only she could. She put a hand on his cheek. After a moment, she asked bluntly, “And why don’t you do this for your own kids?”
He paled and turned to stone, shutting his eyes as if in deep pain. Slowly, so very slowly, he opened his eyes, the green now almost black. He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself, his windpipe working convulsively.
“Because my daughter isn’t here anymore,” he answered, enfolding Gabriela’s small hand in his larger one.
“And where is she?”
Alistair looked at Sophia, as if he didn’t know what to say, asking for her help. She covered his hand with hers, squeezing it softly, trying to infuse into him the strength he needed.
“She’s- She’s in heaven,” he murmured.
Sophia gave a small, low gasp. He looked at her as if to apologize. The intense pain he felt prevented him from saying more, even if he had wanted to.
He felt a soft hand caressing his cheek and gently stroking his eyes, drying the tears he refused to recognize.
“Don’t cry. She wouldn’t like it. When I missed my father, I used to cry. Mama taught me when I cry, he is sad and will cry, too. I don’t want my daddy sad. I’m sure you don’t want your daughter sad, too.” Gabriela sat there, caressing his face, as if she knew him from eons ago. “What’s her name?”
In a barely audible whisper, Alistair answered. “Nathalie. Her name was Nathalie.”
“I’m going to ask my father to look for her and say that you’re not sad anymore, okay?”
Sophia put her other hand under Alistair’s, enveloping both his and her daughter’s. She stayed there, kneeled beside his long legs. She couldn’t move. An overpowering need to hug and comfort that confident and proud man and to help him mourn the loss of his child sprang from deep inside her. Sophia leaned in his direction, her hand running over his hand and his arm, resting on his shoulder. Her eyes bore into his and his head slanted a little in her direction.
She startled, as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder and gripped it, causing her pain. She winced.
A dry, unsympathetic voice ordered, “We’d better see to our room, darling.” Ethan stressed the word, as if he meant it as a curse. You said you were faithful, baby. Are you already scattering your charms in the wind?
Sophia rose, trembling a little. “God, you scared me,” she whispered.
“I could see you were engaged in a private talk with MacCraig,” Ethan hissed between clenched teeth, glaring at Alistair, Ethan’s azure eyes blistered with an undefined emotion. She is mine!
Alistair had the insane desire to smash his fist on Ethan’s nose and see it broken and bloodied. He frowned. What the fuck?
Since he discovered Heather’s betrayal, no woman had stirred his emotions as Sophia had. He had learned just to satisfy his own sexual needs and discard the women. You can’t trust women. Remember, Alistair Connor.
Sophia licked her lips, spinning back toward her daughter. “Let’s go, Gabriela.” They held hands and stepped away from Alistair.
“See you all later,” Sophia said to the room, then waved and departed.
Andrew, who sat next to Alistair, glanced at the couple exiting the room and the child walking shyly beside the mother. Tapping his fingers on the sofa arm, he frowned. “A word of advice, Alistair. Ashford is a jealous man and quite possessive of his things. He doesn’t like to share or to lose.”
“Things?” Alistair let the word roll on his tongue. “Do you consider her a thing? What is she? A slave? I thought slavery had been abolished centuries ago.”
“I didn’t mean that. I just want to give you some advice. Use it as you wish. For her sake, if not for yours,” Andrew insisted.
“I think he’s right, Brother.” Alice concurred, quietly arriving at his side.
Alistair rose and poured himself a large whisky. He swallowed it, feeling the burn in his throat, as rage seethed in him. “You’re all seeing things that don’t exist. Heather and Nathalie have only been dead a year. For Christ’s sake! I’ve met the woman before; she’s no novelty to me! I was just talking with her daughter.”
He swallowed the rest of the whisky, banged the glass on the table, and strolled out of the room, leaving an astonished audience to watch his exit.
Chapter 10
Saturday, February 13th, 2010.
10 a.m.
Alistair followed her every idiosyncratic movement as she walked through the pool area, in her Brazilian bikini and a white linen shirt that fell mid-thigh, but did little to conceal her body. The rise and fall of her breasts with each breath, the soft swing of her hair as her head moved, her nervous wetting of her lips with her tongue, the sway of her hips as she walked with her long legs and her soft round butt. All this drove him to distraction. I’m sure she has a Brazilian wax, too. Fuck. I have to control my thoughts.
He felt a prickle on his neck and, looking away from her, he caught Ethan watching him through narrowed eyes. Fuck! I don’t want any problems. He nodded and looked away. She had warned him; she was seeing someone else. She is Ethan’s. No point in staring, in desiring.
Alas, his eyes seemed glued to her. Who am I fooling? Alexander is ogling her, too. Even Andrew, who has eyes only for Domitila, is sneaking peeks at her.
And still she’s nervous. He could notice by the way she licked her lips and tapped her long nails on her hips. Why? Doesn’t she know she’s the most beautiful, sensual woman in the house? In England? Christ! In the whole of Britain? That she drives each and every man crazy with desire? That her bikini is the most sinful thing I ever saw in my whole life? It shows without really showing. Promises and temptations, making my blood boil in my veins, as if I’m in my own private hell. Or maybe that’s it. I’m atoning for my sins. God knows I have plenty. But, fuck! This is a good way to expiate one’s sins. Curse Ethan and his sense of ownership. Curse my scruples. Life is not fair. At least, Ethan doesn’t seem jealous of Gabriela.
Alistair crossed the pool lounge and sat next to Gabriela and the other children. Immediately, she smiled at him. Thanks Christ for children.
Ethan noticed the men’s lustful gazes toward Sophia. Why has she put on that bikini? She’s showing off! He narrowed his eyes, enraged.
Sophia gave Ethan a trembling smile that he didn’t reciprocate. Mustering courage, she shrugged off her shirt, let it drop on a nearby chair, and gracefully dove in the pool. She swam underwater until she reached Alice, Leonard, and Ethan and sat quietly on a pool step, draping some of her heavy wet hair over her scarred arm. Opening her arms, she called Alice and Leonard’s daughter, who had just arrived by her mother’s side. “Ariadne, come sit by me. I’ll make you a beautiful braid.”
The lovely and intelligent Ariadne immediately came to sit sideways on Sophia’s lap. Ariadne and Gabriela had developed a friendship from their first meeting. Sophia had always loved children and Ariadne enchanted her.
“Sophia, can I ask you something?” Ariadne asked as Sophia braided her long strawberry blonde hair.
“Of course, my dear.”
Running her hand over Sophia’s left shoulder to her jagged scars, brushing aside Sophia’s hair, Ariadne inquired, “What is this?”
A fierce stab shot through Sophia’s head. She hissed in pain and winced noticeably, closing her eyes, her fingers faltering on the braid.
“Ariadne!” Leonard chastised the girl, shocked.