Page 11

He nodded, his expression a cross between awe and compassion, and something like guilt trickled through her.

She didn’t want him to canonize her, she was no saint, far from it.

Nor did she want him to think of her as a victim.

Because she wasn’t that either—so how exactly should she describe herself?

Her conscience reminded her she was living a lie, and she couldn’t push down the guilt, even if she was doing it for all the right reasons.

Oblivious to the war her heart was waging with her morals, Leo asked, “Your own dad?”

“Oh, he was much more discerning than Emile’s father. He only married five times. Quite conservative really.” She shrugged. “Though London gossip would have it that they both dallied with the same woman for a short period, though thankfully not at the same time.”

Jackknifing to a sitting position Leo stared down at her, eyes wide. “Wha—? You’re kidding?”

Ella shook her head, her tone wry. “Trust me, you have no idea how much I would like to say yes , but sadly no. It’s the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the sordid, grotty truth.

” Another sigh slid into the space between them.

“As an adult I see the only positive is that both our mothers—mine and Emile’s—avoided having to suffer the humiliation of a wandering husband.

Both passed away young. Of course, as a child, it was very different; I used to pretend my mother was just away on holiday and would return and all would be well again. ”

“How old were you when she passed?”

“Just three, but I remember her. At least I think I do. Remember her laughter, her cuddles…” Frowning she added, “It was a senseless death. Stupid and her own fault in a way. The story as I know it is that my father purchased a horse that proved to be very difficult. He deemed it too dangerous to ride and had decided to sell it. My headstrong mother was not one to be bossed. She loved the horse and was determined to prove my father wrong. She defied him, and the horse threw her, broke her neck. She lost the argument. And her life.”

It was a moment before he said anything, but all the while his eyes were telling her how sorry he was.

It was always quite strange that she could remain fairly detached while repeating that story; like she was talking about someone else, not her own mother.

She suspected it was that she’d been so young and probably hadn’t understood any of it at the time.

Due to that strange detachment, she also understood his concerns would come from a different angle and Ella wasn’t surprised by what came next.

“That’s… I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you, but maybe one day, Mia might…

Did it…?” He shook his head, blew out air.

“I guess I’m trying to find out how that affects you being here and not be too clumsy about asking—are you okay to be around horses?

” His mouth pulled in at the sides as he gently picked his way through his thoughts.

“I mean, this a ranch. A working ranch. Horses are part of not only our work, but our lives. They’ll be part of Mia’s life.

Benny’s too, while you’re here—if that’s what you want, of course. Will you be…?”

She waved away his concern. “I was very young Leo, and while it devastated me to lose her, I didn’t see the accident, and I don’t think I really equated her death with horses at the time.

She was just gone. There was just me, no siblings and perhaps that made it easier for my father to ensure I was raised without fear of horses, but certainly with respect.

It was probably harder for him to do that than for me to… you know…”

Despite his nod of understanding she rushed to pile on more reassurance.

“When we were staying at Joey’s old house, I often took Benny for a walk to see the horses.

Since we’ve been living here in your house, the weather has allowed us to get some fresh air most days, and we three have been down to your stables several times. ”

“I didn’t realize that.” A flurry of emotions crossed his features and clearly telegraphed his appreciation, however she wished the wave of warmth cascading through her in response wasn’t quite so intense.

He hadn’t noticed, and judging by the frown lining his tanned forehead, his head was still consumed with curiosity about her father.

“So, he was a good dad? The picture you’re painting is a bit blurry and I’m kinda confused about the guy. ”

“Oh, please feel free to join the club.” Her wry tone triggered a grin that chased away his frown.

“I’ve spent my entire life being confused by him, mostly exasperated though.

And not just me. Depending on who you asked you’d be told he was an insufferable cad, a heartless beast, selfish, and mean, with no thought for anyone else .

That’s almost a direct quote by the way, or at least a mishmash of quotes tossed around by his ex-wives, or ex-lovers.

Or perhaps you’d hear he was handsome , generous, charming, brilliant, and irresistible —those would be opinions expressed by current amours, plural.

Another popular assessment you’d encounter would be as a man who’s living on borrowed time .

That one is more likely to come from cuckolded husbands he may have crossed.

And lastly, irresponsible, rash, and gullible —that one would be from his accountant. ”

Leo’s chuckle had grown heartier with each revelation, rumbling through her, gently brushing sensitive nerve ends, leaving her with the goosebumps to prove it, and unable to prevent herself responding with her own little giddy snicker.

“And his daughter? What would she say?”

“Indeed, what would she say?” Ella’s eyes roved the ceiling, choosing her words with more care this time.

“Let me put it this way. My father loved me and was affectionate. He was just… busy . I believe he truly loved my mother, and he kept her memory alive for me. I also believe he was trying to replace her—as much for me as for himself. Sadly, my mother aside, the man has ghastly taste in women and absolutely no common sense about them at all.” She shrugged.

“He’s easily dazzled, makes ridiculously rash decisions, and then sincerely wonders why it all went wrong. ”

His curiosity turned to mirth as another startled chuckle arrived on a rush of air. “You say he is easily dazzled? He’s alive?”

Ella wasn’t sure she covered the sudden blast of sorrow that his question had initiated.

“Yes, alive and presumably well,” she answered, relieved her voice hadn’t shaken as the memory of their last meeting rocked through her.

“And before you ask, yes, we had a falling out, and no, we haven’t managed to rebuild that bridge.

Possibly never will. End of story. And I mean that literally. ”

She could see he had more questions despite her decree that the subject was closed; but on this she wasn’t going to be drawn in.

Lazing about on the floor with him, the children playing happily, the fire crackling off to the side—his mellow voice, as always, rippling through her, seducing her into opening up to him—words had flowed too easily, but now she had the feeling she’d said too much, and definitely enough.

She’d spoken more about her father to Leo than she’d uttered for the past three years.

Especially since arriving in the US. From that moment, she had determined to keep as much of her life and background to herself as she could.

She was determined to keep life as simple as she could for Benny.

If needed, and she prayed it would never be, it was imperative she be able to prove that her son was always safe and cared for.

That she was providing a loving stable life for him.

While Leo had trusted her with his precious daughter, guilt continued to nag at her. It didn’t sit well that she was bending her own rules. After all, she was living under the man’s roof; and she wasn’t being completely honest with him.

So, sharing a little, without revealing too much was only right. Quid pro quo? It seemed fair.

Leo had said nothing since her adamant embargo on any more questions about her father, and lying there on the carpet, his long body so close to her own, the silence between them grew heavy and awkward.

Though surely that had to be an atmosphere conjured by her imagination given the racket echoing around them in the otherwise empty room.

Big noises created by little people. After Benny had moved on to banging a toy drum, Mia had crawled over to accompany him with the xylophone, managing to actually strike a plastic key and not just the frame or Benny every third or fourth swing.

The silence gnawed at Ella, her thoughts bouncing in all directions as she searched for a way to elegantly extricate herself from the topic without appearing churlish or overly secretive.

Relief came in the form of her beautiful baby boy.

She watched as he toddled over to rescue her, not due to some spiritual mother-son connection, but because Mia had taken his drum.

Any upset had obviously been brief and as always, she found it impossible to resist his gorgeous smile; the one so like his father’s.

A smile that also warned mischief was afoot; she was ready for him when he launched himself, squealing as he straddled her, his sturdy little legs pumping as he bounced up and down on her tummy.

“Horsey wide! Do horsey, Mama!”

Laughing she grabbed him and stretched her arms high, jiggling him until he laughed so hard a long string of drool dripped toward her face, prompting her to squeal in return.