The Bedroom Surrender

His voice took on an edge of anger as he sought a reason for her argument. ‘She’s been playing poor little rich girl to you?’

‘No. Cate has too much pride for that.’

‘Then why are you attacking me?’ His eyes sliced at hers. ‘Is this your best form of defence?’

‘Defence against what?’

He halted. Since she was committed to being his companion on this walk, it forced her to pause and cast an inquiring glance at him. It was easier to ignore the power of the man while walking side by side but standing still, she immediately felt swamped by the intense energy force he emitted, and his strong air of command was reinforced by the blazing certainty in his eyes.

‘That’s not worthy of you, Rosalie James.’

Her heart missed a beat then leapt into a wild pounding. ‘I beg your pardon?’ she prevaricated.

‘If you’re trading truth, then don’t lie about what you’re feeling with me. It destroys your credibility.’

He was throwing down his gauntlet. Rosalie threw down hers. ‘Okay. You’d like my suitcase in your hall for a while. I prefer to pass on that.’

‘You can’t put what I want in a suitcase. I don’t care if you dress up or not.’

She raised her eyebrows mockingly. ‘No ornamental display?’

‘Irrelevant.’

‘Just the naked truth.’

His eyes derided her reading of him. ‘That I would like, but not in the limited sense you mean.’

A convulsive little shiver ran down her spine as she felt his purpose to invade far more than her body. Rosalie fiercely argued to herself that she was a curiosity to him, an enigma in his kind of world, and he’d teased himself into wanting to know what made her tick. She didn’t stop to examine what she felt towards him because it was too threatening to her peace of mind.

‘I don’t have time for you, Adam.’

‘Make time.’

The sheer magnetism of the man tugged at her. She’d felt nothing like this before with anyone. It was as though he was claiming her, and all her self-protective instincts rose to fight any surrender to his will.

‘You make time…for your daughter,’ she hurled back at him.

It did not hit any discernible mark. ‘I do,’ he replied, still maintaining an implacable concentration on her. ‘I take Cate with me during her school holidays. During term I send her postcards from wherever I am. She can call me on my mobile telephone whenever she likes.’

‘She’s been here for the first week of her summer holidays.’

‘Not because I failed to be available. It was her choice.’

‘And what does that choice say to you, Adam? What does your daughter get with Celeste’s family that she doesn’t get with you?’

‘Since you’re bursting to tell me…tell me.’

Rosalie paused, the challenge ringing in her ears, demanding truths that he could recognise, take on board. He was not as much at fault as she had assumed where Cate was concerned. Her mind flitted through all the silent criticisms she had made, trying to home in on the basic problem.

‘She’s flaunting it in your face, Adam.’

‘What?’

‘Secure ground that’s not going to change.’

He frowned, grimaced, made a gesture encompassing the grounds around them. ‘This is not my life. Any more than it’s yours. I can’t change who I am.’

‘She craves what Celeste has—a place to come home to, being an integral part of a family where children are a blessing not a nuisance to be accommodated.’

‘I have never treated Cate as a nuisance.’ Vehement denial.

‘What of your girlfriends? Cate mentioned a string of them. When you have your daughter with you, do you spend much time with her one on one, or is she an extra?’

Another frown. ‘She’s never seemed to mind when I’ve had a companion.’

‘What choice does she have but to fit in…if she wants to be with you?’

‘I take her wherever she wants to go. We have a lot of fun together.’

‘You entertain her.’

‘Something wrong with that?’ he rumbled as though barely holding back an explosion of frustration with her argument.

‘It’s froth and bubble, Adam. It doesn’t ease the loneliness inside. The sense of being a floating part of your life, not of any prime consideration, is eating away at Cate. If you really care about her, take her somewhere special these holidays—just the two of you—and get to know her as a person. She’s thirteen. She needs to feel someone loves her for who she is inside.’

He reined in the anger that had been simmering. His eyes scoured hers, searching for ulterior motives to attach to her diatribe against him. There were none. Rosalie stood her ground, waiting for his response, willing him to give her what she needed.

‘Why do you care so much?’ he asked gruffly.

‘Who will if I don’t?’

He shook his head. ‘Catie is not your business.’

‘Caring for children is my business, Adam.’

‘She’s not an orphan.’

‘She’s in need.’

He frowned, but he didn’t refute what she’d said, which might or might not be a step forward. His expression hardened and his narrowed eyes flashed a cynical look at her. ‘Who knows the person you are inside, Rosalie?’

‘My family.’

‘All fourteen of your brothers and sisters and the people who adopted you?’

‘Some more, some less. Overall we’re a very close-knit unit, supportive of each other.’

She was arguing Cate’s cause because Rebel had asked it of her, though she was sympathetic to it, as well. Oddly enough, she no longer felt so antagonistic towards Adam Cazell. He was not a bad father. Given the man he was and the life he led, he’d certainly made the effort to be a presence in his daughter’s life.