Trophy Wives (13 page)

Lucy heard the snap of his fingers and then her heart beating. Strong, steady, resonant.

“When Tom said what he did, it was a lifeline. I grabbed it and ran.”

She could not bring herself to look at him yet, but she had to know. “Wh-what changed your mind?”

He paused. “I was doing the same thing I'd done all my working life. Trying to prove I was better at it than Dad. And this deal—Turtle Island—it was the biggie. The one that would really kick him in the guts because of his history with it.”

Lucy did look up at him then. His eyes glowed with regret. “All through this last week, I've thought only of you. Your loyalty and compassion, and how you've learned to cope. Your strength and your wonderful bond with this land. Made my goals seem petty and mean.” His voice softened. “And I was missing you bad and feeling like a heel because I'd run out on you, accusing you of something I knew you weren't and could never be.”

He flexed and curled his hands. “I was a coward, Lucy. Easier to walk away, close a deal, blame you for something you didn't do, than face the fact that I'm in love with you.”

Lucy's heart stopped. She dug her nails into her palms to feel the scrape of something real. Forced her scurrying mind to slow, to comprehend. He loved her? Hope reared up again.

“Make me a better man, Lucy.” His smooth, dark voice curled around her, at once soothing and agitating.

“Give me some of that compassion and loyalty of yours. I don't want my son not to talk to me for twenty years.”

Her heart jerked again. How was it possible to still be standing while racked with so many different emotions?

So she sat down with a plop. “You are a good man, Ethan,” she whispered. “You're kind. You know how to get the best out of people. You understand how I feel about Summerhill, and you've helped me to stand and fight and actually believe I can do it.”

“You can do it. You have done it.” He pointed at the papers on Tom's desk. “But you don't have to do it on your own.” He squatted down in front of her and took her hand. “I'm not doing anything for the next fifty years. Let me help you. Let's make this our business, Lucy. Do it with me.”

“I—I don't know what to say.” She stared down at him, searched his face and found honesty and sincerity.

“Say you accept my apology. Say you love me, too. Say you'll marry me.”

Her eyes blurred. When was the killer blow going to come? Things like this didn't happen in real life.

“I was coming to tell you,” she blurted, “the other day, before you left, that I love you. That we'd work it out somehow.”

He pressed her hand to his lips. “I'm sorry I ruined it. Say it now. And say yes.”

She shook her head in wonder. “You would live here with me, without owning a bit of it?”

“You and Summerhill come as a package deal, evidently.” They smiled at each other. “Don't care where we live. We could build up on the gorge, if you like.”

“No electricity. No water. No access.”

“It's what I do, Lucy.”

She nodded, eyes shining.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I have property all over the world.”

“You do?” Her face fell when he nodded. “But then I'd be like a trophy wife.”

Ethan threaded his fingers through hers, kissed her hand again. “You own this incredible land. And if you say yes to the lease, soon you will own the best, most productive high-country station in New Zealand.”

She looked down into his eyes. There it was: a warmth and reassurance she could bathe in. A respect and admiration hope could flourish in.

He stood, taking her hands and pulling her up. “Say yes, Lucy.”

“What am I saying yes to again?” She could almost hear the iron chains around her torso shattering. Hope, love streaked through the ruins, making her giddy.

“Yes, you accept my apology?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, you love me, too?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Yes, you'll marry me?”

She hesitated. “
If
you invite your father to the wedding.”

He nodded, smiling. “And yes to the lease. I need something to occupy my time while you're off with your trophy wives.”

“I suppose I could put my X to that.” She sighed.

Ethan moved back a step. “Almost forgot.” He took something from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “For you.”

They were tickets of some kind.

“He is a world-renowned expert on learning disabilities. The seminar is in Sydney next month, which gives you time to organize an assessment beforehand.”

Really, she was touched, but old habits die hard. She gave a mock sigh. “Oh, Ethan. But there are lots more exciting things to do in Sydney than some boring old—”

He held up his index finger. “We'll make it a brief stopover on the way to our honeymoon.” He slid his arms around her waist. “It's time to front up, Lucy. Stop pretending it doesn't exist and doesn't matter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay then. If you insist.”

She put her arms around him, too, laying her head on his chest. She felt oddly quiet, full—cherished. For the first time in a long time.

Through the window, she saw the line of trees, a guard of honor leading to the river. And beyond, the lofty ridges and steep spurs of the far off Alps, wreathed in snow.

She might not have the best business head in the world, but Lucy McKinlay knew a good deal when she saw one.