Page 57 of Forgotten Mistress, Secret Love-Child
Carys moved so swiftly, surging to her feet, that he stepped back a pace. Her eyes glittered blue fire as her gaze clashed with his.
‘Just because I’m a slow reader doesn’t mean I’m thick! You understood that before.’ She paused, as if grappling for control over her hurt and disappointment.
Why couldn’t he have remembered this one thing at least about her?
‘I read the international news because I’m interested, even if it takes me longer than some people. Some days, like today, it’s just slower than others, OK?’
‘OK.’ Alessandro watched the fire dim in her eyes as she wrapped her arms tight round her torso again.
Guilt carved a hole inside Alessandro’s chest as he remembered how he’d all but forced her to sign the prenup on the spot. He’d already guessed she was exhausted and wrung out from stress. He’d had no compunction about seizing on her weakness and stampeding through her objections to get what he wanted, just as he would in any business deal.
But this wasn’t business. It wasn’t nearly so simple.
‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured, watching her rub her arms as if from cold. Clearly her dyslexia was an emotional issue. She was so defensive. ‘I didn’t mean to imply—’
‘That I’m dumb?’ Her lips curved up in a smile that held pain rather than humour.
‘Of course not. No one would.’ He didn’t have any personal experience of the condition, but even he knew that.
Her laugh was hollow. ‘You think not?’
‘Carys?’ Her distressed expression was too much. He reached out and took her by the shoulders. ‘Talk to me,’ he commanded as he massaged her stiff muscles, trying to ease their rigidity. Her pain made him feel uncomfortable…edgy…protective.
Again that bleak smile. ‘Everyone thought I was slow-witted because I couldn’t read well. Everyone. I was always bottom of the class. Even when I reached high school and a teacher suspected what was wrong, it was easier for people to think I was just slow.’
Alessandro frowned. ‘Kids can be cruel.’
She lifted her shoulders in a weary gesture. ‘Not just kids. My father is a professor; my mother ran her own business. My siblings are all academic over-achievers. They found it difficult to adjust to me. I didn’t measure up.’
‘Adjust to you?’ Alessandro’s jaw tightened. ‘They should have been encouraging you, looking after you.’
She shook her head. ‘They preferred to bury themselves in their own activities.’ From the raw pain in her voice Alessandro guessed they had provided precious little support.
The idea infuriated him. Kids needed more from their parents than the bare necessities of life.
Suddenly it struck him that he and Carys had a lot in common—both had been left at too young an age to look after themselves.
‘Even when I stopped working in dead-end jobs and finally found the nerve to sign up for a hotel management degree, they saw it as second best.’ She paused, the dead chill in her eyes carving a chasm through his chest. ‘That’s all they ever expected from me…second best.’
‘Carys.’ He pulled her close, pushing her head down against his shoulder. His heart thumped unsteadily at the wild emotions running through him. He’d been angry and distrustful of her, yet now, seeing the hurt she tried so hard to hide, he felt compassion and a driving need to make things better.
Her pain felt like his. Sharp as a blade, it transfixed him.
He’d never experienced such empathy for anyone else. Or such a strong impulse to protect.
Automatically he rocked her against him, feeling shudder after shudder rack her taut frame.
‘You’re not second best, Carys. You’re a wonderful mother. Anyone seeing Leo would know that. Plus you excel at your work.’ He’d taken the time to find that out in Melbourne. ‘And you haven’t let dyslexia hold you back from tertiary study.’ How she’d coped with that he had no idea. His own ability to read and quickly absorb huge amounts of information was something he’d always taken for granted.
‘You’re a special woman, tesoro. Never forget it.’
Slowly he stroked her back, feeling her tension begin to ease. But he didn’t release her. He wanted to hold her. And not just because she was the woman at the centre of every erotic daydream he’d had for months.
He wanted to comfort her. The tenderness and regret that welled inside him at her story, the tide of anger on her behalf, overwhelmed him.
His mind shied from the realisation that he’d so easily misread her. Because if he dwelled on that too long, he might have to consider that he’d misjudged her in other things.
