Hired by Her Husband. Anne McAllister

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ spread her hands. “It’s the best I can do.”

      “You don’t need to do anything!”

      “Apparently not,” she said in a mild nonconfrontational tone that reminded him of a mother humoring a fractious child.

      George set his teeth. He didn’t want to be humored and he damned well didn’t want Sophy patronizing him.

      “Fine. It’s payback. So consider your debt paid,” he said gruffly. He’d had enough. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest. And,” he went on for good measure, “as you can see, I’m conscious and I can sign my own papers now. So thank you for coming, but I can take care of things myself. You don’t need to hang around taking care of me. You can go.”

      As the words left his mouth he knew he heard the echo of almost the exact words she had thrown at him nearly four years ago: I don’t need you! I’m not a mess you need to clean up. I can take care of myself. I don’t need you doing it for me. So get out of here! Leave me alone. Just go!

      And from the expression on her face, Sophy knew it, too. She looked as if he’d slapped her.

      “Of course,” she said stiffly and stood up, pulling her jacket off the back of the chair and putting it on.

      George watched her every move. He didn’t want to. But, as usual, he couldn’t look away. From the first moment he’d seen her on his cousin Ari’s arm at a family wedding, Sophy had always had the power to draw his gaze.

      She didn’t seem to notice. Something else that hadn’t changed. She zipped up her jacket and picked up her tote from the floor by the chair. Then she stood looking down at him, her expression unreadable.

      George made sure his was, too. “Thank you for coming,” he said evenly. “I’m sorry you were inconvenienced.”

      She inclined her head. “I’m glad you’re recovering.”

      All very polite. They looked at each other in silence. For three seconds. Five. George didn’t know how long. It wasn’t going to be enough. It never would be.

      He couldn’t help memorizing her even as he told himself it was a stupid thing to do. And not the first, he reminded himself grimly, where Sophy was concerned.

      She gave him one last faint smile and turned away.

      Her name was out of his mouth before she reached the door. “Sophy.”

      She stilled, glanced back, one brow lifting quizzically.

      He’d thought he could leave it at that. That he could simply let her go. But he had to ask. “How’s Lily?”

      For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. But then the smile he hadn’t seen yet suddenly appeared on her face like the sun from behind a bank of thunderheads. Her expression softened. And she was no longer supremely self-contained, keeping him determinedly outside the castle walls. “Lily’s fine. Amazing. Bright. Funny. So smart. We had her birthday party yesterday. She’s—”

      “Four.” George finished the sentence before she could. He knew exactly how old she was. Remembered every minute of the day she was born. Remembered holding her in his arms. Remembered how the mantle of responsibility felt on his shoulders—unexpected, scary, yet absolutely right.

      Sophy blinked. “You remembered?”

      “Of course.”

      She swallowed. “Would you…like to see a picture of her?”

      Would he? George nodded almost jerkily. Sophy didn’t seem to notice. She was already opening her purse and taking out her wallet. She fished out a photo and came back across the room to hand it to him.

      George took one look at the child in the photo and felt his throat close.

      God, she was beautiful. He’d seen some snapshots that his mother had given him from the wedding so he had an idea of what Lily was like. But this photo really captured her.

      She was sitting on a beach, a bucket of sand on her lap, her face tipped back as she laughed up at whoever had taken the photo. It was like seeing a miniature Sophy, except for the hair. Lily’s was dark and wavy and, in this photo, wind-tossed. But her eyes were Sophy’s eyes—the same shape, the same color. “British sports car green,” he’d once called them. And her mouth wore a little girl’s version of the delighted, sparkling grin that, like Sophy’s, would make the world a brighter place. Her fingers were clutching the sides of the sand pail, and George remembered how her much tinier fingers had clutched his as she’d stared up at him in cross-eyed solemnity whenever he held her.

      He blinked rapidly, his throat aching as he swallowed hard. When he was sure he could do it without sounding rusty, he lifted his gaze and said, “She’s very like you.”

      Sophy nodded. “People say that,” she agreed. “Except her hair. She has y—Ari’s hair.”

      Ari’s hair. Because Lily was Ari’s daughter. Not his.

      For all that George had once dared to hope, like her mother Lily had never been his.

      They both belonged to Ari—always had—no matter that his cousin had been dead since before Lily’s birth. Some things, George found, hurt more than the pounding in his head. He ran his tongue over his lips. “She looks happy.”

      “She is.” Sophy’s voice was firm and confident now. “She’s a happy well-adjusted little girl. She’s actually pretty easygoing most of the time. Once she got over the three-month mark, she stopped having colic and settled down. I managed,” she added, as if it needed saying.

      He supposed she thought it did. She’d had something to prove when she’d told him to get out. And she’d obviously proved it.

      Now he took a breath. “I’m glad to hear it.” George took one last look at the picture then held it out to her.

      “You can have it,” she said. “I can print another one. If you want it,” she added a second later, as if he might not.

      “Thanks. Yes, I’d like it.” He studied it again for a long moment before turning slowly in an attempt to set it on the table next to the bed.

      Sophy reached out and took it from him, standing it up against his water pitcher so he could see it if he turned his head. “There.” She stepped back again. “She can…watch over you.” As soon as she said the words, she ducked her head, as if she shouldn’t have. “You should get some rest.”

      “We’ll see.”

      “No ‘we’ll see.’ You should,” she said firmly.

      He didn’t reply, and she seemed to realize that was something else she shouldn’t have said, that she had no right to tell him what he should or shouldn’t do. “Sorry,” she said briskly. “None of my business.” She turned toward the door again. “Goodbye.”

      He almost called her back a second time. But it would simply prolong the awkwardness between them. And when you got right down it, there was nothing else.

      It had been СКАЧАТЬ