he was her anchor—strong and warm, and exactly what she needed to combat the cold emptiness inside her.
A little while later, when the storm of tears had passed, Chloe opened her eyes and realised that she was cradled against Lorenzo’s chest. He was holding her snugly and she was still clinging to him, her hands tangled tightly in his shirt, deep inside his open jacket. They were sitting on a bench looking away from the house, across an impressive view over the meadows.
For a moment she lay completely still, amazed at how comfortable she felt in Lorenzo’s arms. But then a subtle change came over him—a slight shift in his muscles and a stiffening of his posture—and she knew that he was aware that she had roused.
She sat up slowly, suddenly feeling awkward. She had no idea how long she had wept or how long she had clung on to him. It was embarrassing to have let go of her emotions so completely in front of him.
‘Emma?’ she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.
‘Mrs Guest has her,’ Lorenzo said, realigning his jacket as she pulled away from him and sitting up straighter. ‘She’s fine. But how about you—do you need anything? Some water, maybe?’
Chloe nodded, suddenly realising she was really thirsty, and almost immediately Lorenzo passed her a small bottle of water. It was beaded with condensation and still cold from the fridge, and Chloe took it gratefully.
Presumably Mrs Guest had brought it out for her. It was wonderful to have someone look after her fora change. And it was even more wonderful to sit with Lorenzo, knowing that he’d been there to comfort her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Chloe said. ‘Sorry for causing a scene like that.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Your grief is entirely natural and I don’t want you to think you have to suppress it because you are here with me. I can’t imagine how hard the last months have been for you.’
Chloe felt her heart turn over at his sympathetic words. She knew he was sincere, and it touched her deeply.
She turned sideways on the bench and looked at him. His arms around her had felt so natural, and now his clear blue gaze appeared completely open and understanding.
It suddenly seemed vital that they were honest with each other. After the mistrust and discord between them, she longed to find a genuine connection with him. And, as she remembered his impassioned outburst the previous evening, she realised that her actions since their marriage had left him out in the cold.
On the day of their wedding she’d been brokenhearted, and at the time she’d felt that her desperation to get away from him was justifiable. It had been devastating to be told by her new husband that he did not believe in love. But she hadn’t waited for the situation to calm down. She had not given him a chance to explain.
‘You upset me badly on our wedding day, but I’m sorry for how I behaved,’ she found herself saying. ‘For running away without telling you I was going. And for not getting in touch about Emma.’
‘That’s behind us now,’ Lorenzo said.
His tone was clipped, and with a flash of irritation Chloe knew he was never going to admit that her behaviour had had any emotional impact on him. She’d been willing to take a step towards him—but he was not prepared to meet her in the middle.
‘But we still have the future to think about,’ Chloe said. ‘You said last night that you want us to remain married. But, given everything you have said to me—that you don’t love me, that you don’t even believe in love—I don’t know how I can do that.’
She paused, and looked at him utterly seriously. He appeared calm, but she could see a vein pulsing on his temple, and she knew that she was on dangerous ground. But she had to get things straightened out. Her future—and Emma’s future—depended on it.
‘I’m not even sure if you meant it,’ she said carefully. ‘Or if you were just saying it because you were
A little while later, when the storm of tears had passed, Chloe opened her eyes and realised that she was cradled against Lorenzo’s chest. He was holding her snugly and she was still clinging to him, her hands tangled tightly in his shirt, deep inside his open jacket. They were sitting on a bench looking away from the house, across an impressive view over the meadows.
For a moment she lay completely still, amazed at how comfortable she felt in Lorenzo’s arms. But then a subtle change came over him—a slight shift in his muscles and a stiffening of his posture—and she knew that he was aware that she had roused.
She sat up slowly, suddenly feeling awkward. She had no idea how long she had wept or how long she had clung on to him. It was embarrassing to have let go of her emotions so completely in front of him.
‘Emma?’ she asked, her voice hoarse from crying.
‘Mrs Guest has her,’ Lorenzo said, realigning his jacket as she pulled away from him and sitting up straighter. ‘She’s fine. But how about you—do you need anything? Some water, maybe?’
Chloe nodded, suddenly realising she was really thirsty, and almost immediately Lorenzo passed her a small bottle of water. It was beaded with condensation and still cold from the fridge, and Chloe took it gratefully.
Presumably Mrs Guest had brought it out for her. It was wonderful to have someone look after her fora change. And it was even more wonderful to sit with Lorenzo, knowing that he’d been there to comfort her.
‘I’m sorry,’ Chloe said. ‘Sorry for causing a scene like that.’
‘You have nothing to apologise for,’ Lorenzo said. ‘Your grief is entirely natural and I don’t want you to think you have to suppress it because you are here with me. I can’t imagine how hard the last months have been for you.’
Chloe felt her heart turn over at his sympathetic words. She knew he was sincere, and it touched her deeply.
She turned sideways on the bench and looked at him. His arms around her had felt so natural, and now his clear blue gaze appeared completely open and understanding.
It suddenly seemed vital that they were honest with each other. After the mistrust and discord between them, she longed to find a genuine connection with him. And, as she remembered his impassioned outburst the previous evening, she realised that her actions since their marriage had left him out in the cold.
On the day of their wedding she’d been brokenhearted, and at the time she’d felt that her desperation to get away from him was justifiable. It had been devastating to be told by her new husband that he did not believe in love. But she hadn’t waited for the situation to calm down. She had not given him a chance to explain.
‘You upset me badly on our wedding day, but I’m sorry for how I behaved,’ she found herself saying. ‘For running away without telling you I was going. And for not getting in touch about Emma.’
‘That’s behind us now,’ Lorenzo said.
His tone was clipped, and with a flash of irritation Chloe knew he was never going to admit that her behaviour had had any emotional impact on him. She’d been willing to take a step towards him—but he was not prepared to meet her in the middle.
‘But we still have the future to think about,’ Chloe said. ‘You said last night that you want us to remain married. But, given everything you have said to me—that you don’t love me, that you don’t even believe in love—I don’t know how I can do that.’
She paused, and looked at him utterly seriously. He appeared calm, but she could see a vein pulsing on his temple, and she knew that she was on dangerous ground. But she had to get things straightened out. Her future—and Emma’s future—depended on it.
‘I’m not even sure if you meant it,’ she said carefully. ‘Or if you were just saying it because you were
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