Cinderella's Desert Baby Bombshell by Lynne Graham, Louise Fuller

CHAPTER NINE

TAKINGASTEPback from the mirror, Frankie held a breath, her eyes meeting her reflection with silent satisfaction.

She’d kept her make-up simple—just smoky eyes, mascara, a pinkish lip tint—and her hair was pinned up with just a few loose curls framing her face. It was the dress...the beautiful blue dress...that was the star of the show.

It was a dress that managed to be revealing and subtle at the same time. A dress that made her look sleek, sophisticated, and wholly unfamiliar.

Turning, she glanced over her shoulder at the back of the dress. Her pulse jumped like a startled frog.

What back?

She was naked from the top of her spine right down to the twin indentations above the curve of her bottom, and yet she didn’t feel exposed. In fact, she had worn far less revealing dresses and felt more vulnerable.

Breathing out shakily, she ran her hand over the smooth, shimmering silk. In part, that was down to how the dress hugged her body, almost protectively. The other reason—the main reason, of course—that she didn’t feel vulnerable tonight was Arlo.

Her pulse twitched.

‘Trust me,’he’d said, and then, ‘You do trust me, don’t you?’

And there had been no doubt, not even an atom of hesitation, in her reply. Her trust in him was as unwavering and unequivocal as the man himself. How could it not be? After everything he’d done and said.

Her throat tightened. After the inquest she had stopped talking to people about the accident, about the part she felt she’d played. Instead, she had kept her guilt close, preferring it to the alternative, more crushing pain of loss.

Only she could see now that hiding the truth had meant also hiding who she was, so she’d created Frankie Fox the social media influencer with a million friends—none of whom knew her, all of whom were easy to keep at arm’s length.

But she hadn’t kept Arlo at arm’s length, and in his arms the truth had come pouring out. Today, though, he hadn’t just listened. He had forced her to confront the whole truth, made her see that her guilt wasn’t just trapping her but condemning her family to exist only in those few terrible, fractured moments.

He had made it possible for her to move past that terrible night in France and it had been like a weight lifting. The pain of losing them was still there, it always would be, but she could live with that now that the other terrible, relentless ache was gone.

Her head had been so fuzzy with adrenaline and emotion that she still didn’t really know how he’d done it. But one fragment of memory was diamond-bright.

Arlo had rescued her. Again.

Not from a swirling sea, but from herself.

And she wanted to say something—only what? Thank you seemed too anodyne. But she didn’t know how to express the complicated mix of emotions she was feeling. Maybe the right words would just come to her after a glass of champagne...

Wondering if Arlo was ready to go, she turned and headed back into the bedroom.

She stopped in the doorway, her heart skipping a beat.

He was slumped on the sofa, reading a book. His hair was still a little damp from the shower, but he was more than ready, in a dinner jacket that accentuated his broad shoulders, matching trousers, another snow-white shirt, and, finishing it off like a ribbon on a birthday present, a perfectly knotted bow tie.

Her stomach did a slow backwards flip.

If only she could spend the evening slowly unwrapping him.

But, taking a second look, she felt her breathing slow. Despite the casual arrangement of his limbs, there was something about how he was sitting...an almost unnatural stillness that hinted at the coiled tension beneath his skin.

Remembering his agitation earlier, she felt a fierce protective urge, cold and potent like a shot of vodka. He was on edge—not that he would admit it. He’d said all he’d wanted to earlier—probably more than he’d wanted, in fact. But she knew. And more importantly, she knew what to do about it. He had given her this beautiful dress, but she would take care of him tonight—that would be her gift to him.

As though sensing her scrutiny, Arlo looked up. Clearing her throat, she took a step forward and did a little twirl. ‘How do I look?’

He got to his feet, his grey eyes sweeping admiringly over her body. ‘Like a goddess,’ he said softly.

He closed the distance between them in two strides and the iron strength of his arm anchored her against him as his lips found hers. Sliding her hands up over his satin lapels, she breathed out shakily against his mouth. Her body was softening...her skin was growing warm, too warm. In another few seconds the small amount of resolve she had would melt away...

‘Arlo—’

He broke away. ‘I know. I know...’

His smile was rigid as she reached up to wipe her lipstick from his mouth. ‘That’s better,’ she said lightly. ‘I’m just going to touch up my lips.’ She was back in less than a minute. ‘Okay, I’m ready.’

‘Not quite.’ He was holding out a slim black velvet box.

Her heart felt suddenly as though it was trying to beat a path through her ribs. ‘What’s that?’ she croaked.

‘Open it and see,’ he said quietly.

Speechless with shock, she stared down at a beautiful diamond bracelet. ‘You shouldn’t have—’ Her lower lip was quivering. ‘No, I mean it. You’ve already given me this beautiful dress.’

‘That was a necessity. So is this, actually.’ Lifting the delicate band, he opened the clasp and slipped it onto her wrist. ‘Don’t you know, darling? It’s the accessories that make the dress.’

That wasn’t true, she thought, glancing down at the smooth blue silk. This dress had been perfect as it was. This was generous, thoughtful, personal.

She felt her heartbeat accelerate. Arlo had wanted to see her reaction, to make her happy. But only because he did things properly, she told herself firmly. And probably that was how he’d been raised. It wasn’t personal.

‘Arlo, you can’t keep buying me things,’ she protested.

‘Why? It gives me pleasure.’ He stared down at her, his grey eyes intent and enveloping. ‘You wouldn’t want to stop giving me pleasure, would you?’

‘No, but I don’t have a gift for you...’

Her voice trailed off as he leaned forward and she felt his lips trace the pulse down her neck. The room blurred and a ribbon of heat uncurled inside her. Would it always be like this with him? So instant, so intense, so annihilating.

More importantly, could it ever be like this with another man?

Arlo lifted his head and the room slowly stopped spinning. ‘We should probably go...’

His hand was warm and firm around hers. She smiled. ‘Then let’s go.’

Frankie could hearthe party as soon as Arlo opened their bedroom door. Downstairs, guests were spilling out of the rooms, and it didn’t take long for her to realise that not only did most of them know Arlo, many of them were surprised to see him.

Clearly he’d been telling the truth about not enjoying big family events.

He hid it well. His face was blank of expression, aside from the occasional stiff smile, but his arm was rigid beneath hers and she could feel his discomfort.

Only, somehow, knowing that he found it so difficult made it easier for her to step forward and smile and talk and laugh.

This was something she enjoyed—something she could do well, she realised. But, more than that, it was her chance to do something for him. Her chance to make him feel as safe and protected as he’d made her feel out on the causeway.

As they made their way to the ballroom Frankie caught her breath. In daylight, the house was astonishing. Now, though, it looked magical. Like an enchanted fairy tale palace.

Canopies of tiny lights hung down the walls behind huge displays of pink and cream roses, and beneath their feet an immaculate checkerboard marble floor gleamed beneath rows of glittering chandeliers.

The guests were pretty impressive too, she thought, her eyes leapfrogging over the men’s immaculate monochrome evening wear to the sparkling dresses and plunging necklines of their wives and girlfriends.

Everyone looked so relaxed and happy.

Everyone but Arlo, she thought, her eyes darting to the man beside her and the lines of tension around his eyes.

‘Here.’ Plucking two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, he handed her one.

‘Thank you—oh, wow!’

Gazing up at the soaring ceiling, Frankie felt as if she’d already drunk the contents of her glass.

Arlo leaned into her, his body warm against the cool skin of her back. ‘My great-great-great-great-grandfather is the one in the middle.’

‘You mean the one kneeling in front of that woman wearing a sheet? I guess he does look a little like you from this angle,’ she said softly.

Looking up at him, she was struck again by his size and his austere, uncompromising features, but most of all by his intense maleness. Other men might be prettier, more symmetrical, more elegant, but Arlo was magnificent. And half a head taller than everyone else.

She felt a slight fluttering pressure against her pelvic bone as he stared down at her, his eyes dark with heat. Taking a breath, she said quickly, ‘So why did he get to be painted on the ceiling?’

Arlo glanced upward. ‘He actually got more than a ceiling. This estate was a gift for his military successes against the French and the Bavarians.’

‘And you followed in his footsteps?’

He met her eyes. ‘Not quite. Although I did get into a fight with a French geologist out at Svalbard a couple of years back.’

‘What happened?’

‘He was uncomplimentary about my sledge.’

Frankie burst out laughing. Watching some of the tension leave his face, she felt her happiness grow brighter than the light from the polished chandeliers.

‘Oh, there you are!’

It was Serena, glamorous in silver lamé, and the warmth in her voice matched her smile. Beside her, Davey was handsome in his dark suit.

‘Davey was worried you’d got lost. He was about to send a search party.’

Arlo shook his cousin’s hand. ‘As if I’d miss the chance to razz you in public.’ He turned to Serena and kissed her on the cheek. ‘You look lovely as always, Lady Fairfax.’

‘Never mind me.’ Turning, she gazed admiringly at Frankie. ‘Look at you. You look absolutely gorgeous. Doesn’t she, Arlo?’

Frankie felt her blood lighten as his eyes rested on her face, his head tilting slightly towards her. ‘Yes, she does.’

Frankie was morethan gorgeous, Arlo thought, pressing his hand flat on her back to steady himself. She was captivatingly lovely. He literally couldn’t tear his gaze away from her.

The crème de ciel blue silk not only matched her eyes, it seemed to ripple over her body like water, and he had to concentrate hard on keeping his hands from sliding aside those thin straps.

Later, he told himself firmly, as his cousin Arthur bounded up to greet him. Later in their room, when they were alone, he would strip her naked and take her in his arms and let his body flow into hers.

Right now, he had to get through this.

Although with Frankie by his side it was proving less painful than he’d anticipated. Her excitement was infectious and, standing beside her, he was struck by how easily she got on with people. She made it look so effortless. Considering she didn’t know anyone, she was relaxed and natural and warm—in other words, everything he wasn’t. And it was obvious that she accepted people for who they were.

Just as she had accepted him.

But he could see, too, that she loved being part of a family again—and she was a part of it. She fitted into his world like a hand in a glove.

As if sensing his gaze, Frankie glanced over at him and he felt his heartbeat accelerate. The skin was taut over the curves of her cheekbones, her eyes glittering with a curiosity and eagerness for life. For him.

His breath caught. When she looked at him like that it was tempting to think beyond the here and now, beyond this evening, beyond tomorrow...

Tempting, too, to think of choices made and yet to be made, of tantalising possibilities that had nothing to do with cold and danger or hardship and isolation, so that suddenly it was easy to imagine an alternative, hazy, sun-filled world, where the sky was always the colour of curaçao and Frankie was always in his bed.

But he’d chased that dream before, and all he’d succeeded in doing was breaking Harriet’s heart and proving to himself what he had already known. Feelings could not be relied upon.

So why go there? Why ruin what they had?

This was perfection. A flawless moment frozen in time. It was not for everyone, but for him it was the only way.

From across the room, he heard someone call his name. Glancing over, he saw Arthur holding up his wrist and pointing at his watch.

It was time. The moment he’d been dreading was finally upon him.

Right on cue, a waiter appeared by his side and, picking up the glass of champagne from the tray, Arlo tapped it imperiously with a spoon.

Instantly the conversations around him subsided into silence and, moving purposefully through the crowd, he made his way over to the stage that had been set up for the band.

‘Thank you. Most of you already know me. But for those that don’t my name is Arlo and Davey is my cousin. I know pretty much everything there is to know about him. But today isn’t just about Davey. As you all know, today is Davey and Serena’s tenth wedding anniversary.’

There was a small smattering of applause and a few cheers and he waited until they died away.

‘And I was there, as most of you were, ten years ago, when they made their vows. Vows they have kept faithfully.’ Turning towards his cousin and Serena, he forced his mouth to soften into a smile. ‘As we all knew they would. Their vows were the real deal. Made with love.’

A love he envied and feared in equal measure.

He cleared his throat. ‘The kind of love that is an ever-fixed mark—that hasn’t changed and won’tchange with the passing of time or be shaken by storms.’

As he looked out across the mass of faces his eyes connected with Frankie’s and he felt as if his heart was dropping away from his body, remembering what he’d said about love to her.

‘And that love is why we love them. Why we love spending time with them. Why we’re all here tonight.’

The words tasted bitter on his tongue. Each one a reminder of how he’d failed in his own marriage—a marriage that had served only to prove that his parents’ rapturous, unfettered joy in one another was beyond his reach.

Someone coughed and he returned his attention to his audience.

‘To sum up: money might make the world go round, but Davey and Serena are proof that love is the coin of the realm. Their love for one another, for their beautiful son Bertie, and for all of us.’ He raised his glass. ‘And now we have a chance to honour that love. So please raise your glasses and join me in a toast to Davey and Serena. For making it all look so easy.’

Everyone chanted out the names and then there was a huge cheer. He felt a relief that was more intoxicating than any champagne flood his veins.

It was over.

‘Thanks, mate.’ It was Davey, his face trembling with emotion. The two men hugged.

Beside him, Serena was wiping tears from her eyes. ‘I knew you’d make me cry.’

Pulling her closer, Arlo kissed her forehead softly. ‘Then you can tick that off the list.’

Serena was a legendary list-maker—particularly when it came to organising events.

‘Now, go and enjoy your party. Take Davey out on the dance floor. That’ll put a smile back on your face.’

‘Great speech.’

It was Frankie. The relief he’d felt moments earlier faded as he looked into her eyes. She looked happier than he’d ever seen her, and somehow sadder too.

‘Thank you.’

She hesitated, seemingly on the point of saying something, and then changed her mind. He felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to hold her close, to steady his body against hers. Maybe that would stop this feeling of everything slipping beneath his feet.

‘Would you dance with me?’ he asked abruptly.

Her eyes found his and she nodded slowly. Taking her hand, he led her onto the dance floor. He held her close, letting the scent and the softness of her skin envelop him, so that by the end of their second dance his body was rock-hard.

She felt it. Of course she did. And, watching her blue eyes widen and flare, he leaned forward and nipped the soft skin of her throat.

‘Can we go upstairs?’ she whispered. ‘I need you now.’

He didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he took her hand and led her off the dance floor. He was dimly aware of people’s faces. Dimly aware that their hunger must be visible to anyone looking. But all he cared about was getting across the ballroom and up to their bedroom as quickly as possible.

This was what he wanted—what they both wanted. It was all they needed from one another.

As they stepped out into the hall she tugged at his arm. ‘Are you sure you want to leave?’

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything,’ he said hoarsely and, sweeping her into his arms, he carried her up the stairs.

When they reached the bedroom door his body was straining for release and, kicking it shut, he loosened his grip, bringing his mouth down on hers as her hands locked in his shirt and she dragged him towards her.

Tightening his arm around her waist, he pushed her back against the door, flattening her body with his. Her fingers were tugging at his waistband and he almost lost his footing as she pulled him free of his trousers and gripped him in her hand, and then he was lifting her and jerking up her dress in one swift movement.

She shifted against him as he yanked aside her panties and, breathing raggedly, thrust inside her. Opening her mouth to the heat of his kiss, she wrapped her legs around his waist, arching against him, panting out his name as he surged into her with hot, liquid force.

Frankie lifted theshotgun, her heart pounding as she closed her right eye and tried to visualise the path of the clay. It was easy to pick up the basics of shooting, Arlo had told her. But actually to hit the target...

‘Weight on your front foot, bend your knee, stick out your bottom, fire when it’s almost at the top of the curve...’ she muttered to herself, and then, ‘Pull!’ she shouted.

The tiny disc spun into the air and—bang!—disintegrated with a satisfying crack.

Grinning idiotically, she turned to where Arlo and Davey stood watching her. ‘I did it!’

‘Well done,’ said Arlo softly.

Holding the gun upright, she flicked the bolt so the gun broke. ‘I did everything you said and it worked. It actually worked.’

He held her gaze. ‘Yes, it did.’

She did a little dance on the spot. ‘I didn’t think I’d enjoy it that much, but it’s so satisfying.’

Arlo grinned. ‘My turn.’

Frankie watched dry-mouthed as he walked away. He had an enviable air of calm that made it seem as if he was moving at a slower pace than everyone around him. But then he tucked the gun into his shoulder and she felt suddenly weak in the middle as both his body and gun swiftly followed the four clays through the air with smooth, lethal accuracy.

She sighed. ‘Has he always been like this? You know...’

‘I do—and, yes. He’s one of a kind.’ Davey smiled. ‘Last night he was being generous. He’s the one who makes everything look easy.’

He did, Frankie thought, picturing Arlo giving his speech. Look at how he had just stood up in front of all those people and said those beautiful things about Davey and Serena. And love.

Her heart skipped a beat.

He had sounded so genuine.

But then he was hardly going to say what he really thought.

She knew that he didn’t believe one word of it. He couldn’t have made it clearer that he had given up on love. Only hearing him talk like that made it hard not to wish that he hadn’t.

But only for a moment.

She felt a faint flush of heat wash over her cheekbones, remembering how he had carried her upstairs last night. She didn’t need to complicate what was already perfect.

‘So tell me? Did you have a good time last night?’

Serena gave her a one-armed hug. They were back at the house, where Serena had laid on a mouth-watering brunch.

‘It was better than good.’ Frankie smiled. ‘It was the best party I’ve ever been to.’

She had really enjoyed herself—and yet, truthfully, she had preferred lunch yesterday, when it had been just the four of them. In fact, what she liked best of all was just lying on the sofa with Arlo in the library at the Hall...

Now that she thought about it, she’d only really started going out a lot at secondary school—and mostly that had been a kind of pushback against Harry and Amelie’s glittering success.

And after the accident, her partying had been a way to fight the loneliness and the guilt and had ended up being her career. Now she couldn’t imagine living like that. Only she was going to have to return—and sooner rather than later.

Blanking her mind to that unwelcome thought, she said quickly, ‘I had a great time at the shoot as well.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come down, but Bertie had me up before dawn with his teeth.’

Frankie glanced over at the small blond boy clutching at Serena. She had met Bertie yesterday, and he had been like a jumping jack. Now, though, there were smudges under his eyes and he seemed listless and quiet.

‘Would you like me to take him for you?’ Frankie asked as Serena attempted to pick up her coffee cup.

Stifling a yawn, Serena shook her head. ‘He won’t go to anyone when he’s feeling like this—’

‘Except his favourite godfather!’

Watching Bertie’s face split into a huge, gap-toothed smile, Frankie felt a sharp nip of pleasure as Arlo reached forward and lifted him into his arms.

‘I’m just going to grab some food,’ he said, leaning in to kiss Serena on both cheeks. ‘Do either of you want anything?’

Serena shuddered. ‘No, thank you. I can still taste that last tequila.’

Arlo made a tutting sound. ‘Frankie? Any preferences?’

‘Surprise me,’ she said softly.

His gaze locked with hers and she felt the air between them snap like an elastic band.

‘I’ll do my best.’

Watching him walk away, Serena sighed. ‘He’s so good with Bertie. I suppose he would be—I mean, he practically raised Johnny by himself.’ She rested her elbows on the tablecloth. ‘But never mind that now. What I want to know is how did you two meet?’

Frankie felt her mouth open and close as she tried to remember what she and Arlo had agreed, but before she could answer Serena waved her hands excitedly.

‘No—no, wait a minute. Let me guess. Your car got a puncture and he pulled over to help? Or maybe you were lost—?’

‘No, it was nothing like that.’ Frankie shook her head. ‘I know Johnny from London, and he introduced me to Arlo.’ That was almost true. ‘We hit it off and he asked me to stay.’ That was also almost true.

To her astonishment, Serena looked delighted. ‘Oh, I’m so happy you said that. It sounds so normal. I knew you were different from the others,’ she said triumphantly.

The others.

Frankie felt something twist beneath her ribs. Not that long ago she’d found it hard to imagine anyone wanting to work with Arlo, let alone share his bed. Now, though, it hurt to imagine his body overlapping another woman’s...

Leaning in conspiratorially, Serena lowered her voice. ‘I was watching the two of you together and you can’t keep your eyes off each other. I told Davey you must be the one—’

What?She stared up at Serena in shock and confusion. ‘No, no... I don’t think... That’s not...’

Serena touched her hand. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to say anything. I know Arlo’s a very private person,’ she said gently. ‘But I know love when I see it.’

Love?No,that was wrong. That wasn’t what was happening here. She and Arlo didn’t love one another.

Her head started to spin. Around her, the room seemed to be blurring at the edges.

No, they didn’t.

But she loved him.

She felt a rush of panic and confusion, then denial. That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. Surely you couldn’t fall in love so quickly. But she knew that it was true. She loved him. Loved him with every frantic beat of her heart.

Her breath caught. But if that was true...

Gazing across the table at Serena, she felt her throat contract. She seemed so certain, and she and Davey knew Arlo better than anyone. But could Serena be right? Could Arlo have fallen in love with her too?

That question kept popping into her head during the rest of the day, but thinking it was one thing. Asking it...

Part of her wanted to. Another part—the part that didn’t want to rock the boat—feared the consequences of demanding more when everything was going so well, and she was still dithering later that day, as the Rolls-Royce convertible rumbled back over the wet cobbles on the causeway.

‘So, do you want to eat something?’ he asked.

‘I don’t think so.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Actually, what I’d really like is a bath.’

Dipping his head, he kissed her softly on the mouth. ‘Great minds think alike.’

It was lovely to have so much endless and guilt-free hot water on tap, Frankie thought as she lay back in the water, gazing through the spirals of steam to where Arlo lounged, his arms resting along the rim of the bath.

Looking at the heavy muscles bunching, she felt her pulse accelerate. It had always been easy to admire his solidness. But now she found it just as easy to admit that she loved everything about him that wasn’t visible. In fact, she loved everything about him.

Only now that it was easy to admit that to herself, she could feel herself wanting to tell Arlo.

Striving for calm, she picked up the soap and began rubbing it between her hands. ‘Thank you for taking me to Stanhope Park. I had a really nice time.’

‘Well, you were a huge hit. Davey thinks you’re wonderful, and Serena is raving about you too. They’ve invited us over on Saturday for lunch.’

His grey eyes rested on her face and, thinking back to her conversation with Serena, Frankie felt her stomach flip over. ‘They’re both lovely. And they loved your speech.’ She hesitated. ‘I loved it too. I thought it was beautiful. But—’

He stared at her steadily. ‘But what?’

‘I don’t know how you could say all that stuff about love and not want it for yourself.’

Sitting forward, he scooped up some water and dribbled it over her bare breasts.

‘I thought we’d talked about that,’ he said after a long silence.

‘We talked about your parents. But how do you know it would be the same for you? I mean it’s not the same for Davey and Serena, and if you met your “for ever” person everything might feel different.’

His face stilled and she felt her heart start to thud against her ribs.

‘I’m not the marrying kind—’

‘How do you know? How can you know? You’ve never been married.’ Her fingers bit into the soap. ‘You talk about data and facts, but you’re not basing your opinion on fact.’

There was another immeasurably long pause, and then he said coolly, ‘Actually, that’s exactly what I’m doing. You see, I have been married.’

She stared at him, mute with shock.

When? For how long? Who was she?

He flicked her a glance, hearing her questions even though she hadn’t asked them. ‘Ten years ago, for just under three months. Her name was Harriet and she was someone I met at university.’

Her heart was still thumping and she counted the thuds, trying to steady herself. ‘What happened?’

‘I didn’t love her. I told her. She left. It was not my finest moment.’ His face was bleak. ‘I wanted to love her. I wanted to have what my parents had. I wanted to believe. But it was a disaster. All I did was end up hurting her.’ Reaching out, he prised the soap from her fingers, his hands covering hers. ‘And that’s why we can never be more than this. I don’t want to hurt you, Frankie. I can’t risk that.’

Her eyes were stinging but she made no move to touch them. There was nothing she could do. The flat, uncompromising edge in his voice left her nowhere to go.

‘So what are you saying?’ she said stiffly.

‘I suppose I’m saying...is this enough for you?’

His jaw was locked tight, the skin stretched taut across his cheekbones, and she could hear him breathing.

No, it wasn’t.

She felt so much...wanted so much more.

She was on the verge of taking his hand and pressing it to her lips, telling him that she loved him. And she might have done it if he hadn’t just told her what had happened with Harriet. But she couldn’t unknow what she knew...couldn’t unsee the weariness in his eyes...and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth.

Not now.

Not if it might mean losing this...losing him...

That was a risk she couldn’t take.

She nodded slowly, her stomach lurching at the lie. ‘Yes, it is.’

His face relaxed a little and she leaned forward and kissed him softly. She felt his hand touch her cheek and he deepened the kiss, and then she was kissing him back and surrendering to the tide of hunger rising inside her, letting it sweep aside her pain and her love.