“I’m thinking of that conversation we had a while ago,” he said. “You said I should look for a new place for you, so that’s what I’ve been doing.”
The news hit me like a punch in the stomach, but I stayed on my feet. “Does that mean you’re getting married, Mr. Rathburn?”
“I guess it does.”
I had to look away from his face. I bent down as if to scoop up a couple of the horse chestnut burrs that littered the grass. I touched one, and it pricked my fingers. When I could trust myself to speak, I dared only a single word. “Soon?”
“Very soon.” He thrust both hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his toes. “I might even propose before the tour begins. Bianca Ingram’s not the kind of woman who waits around for a ring. If I don’t tie her down soon, she’s liable to find herself some crown prince or a movie mogul, don’t you think?” He turned around. “Why won’t you stand up straight and look at me? And quit playing with those seedpods when I’m trying to talk with you… especially about something so important.” His tone was petulant, as if I were the one hurting him. “Remember, leaving was your idea. And you’re right; sensible as always. Bianca wouldn’t be very happy to have you around the place.”
“Yes, Mr. Rathburn.” I wanted to warn him about the hardness I’d observed in Bianca Ingram’s character, but what good would it do? I was too late. Maybe he would have listened to me a few weeks ago. He’d even asked my opinion of her. Why hadn’t I spoken up then?
“As I promised, I’ve been on the lookout for a new position for you. I remember you saying you wished you could travel…”
“I said that?”
“You said you wouldn’t be here if you could afford to backpack across Europe, remember? I’ve been thinking that the least I can do is make that wish come true. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m acting in your best interest, that’s all. What would you say to Ireland?”
“Ireland?”
“I have a friend — you may have heard of him; he had a few hits around ten years ago — Duncan Webb. Does that ring a bell? He and his wife have a house outside Dublin, and they have five daughters. Can you imagine that? A lot of kids, but nothing you can’t handle.”
“It’s so far away…”
“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? You’re not going to wimp out on me, are you, Jane? An independent young woman like you. You’ll be fine on the plane, and Duncan will send someone to pick you up at the airport.”
“It’s not the traveling. It’s the distance… all the way across the ocean.”
“The distance from what, Jane?”
“From America, and from Thornfield Park. And…”
“Well?”
“From you, Mr. Rathburn.”
I said this almost involuntarily, and as I spoke, the tears I’d been holding back trickled out. Even so, I did my best not to sob. “It’s so far away,” I repeated.
“We’ll see each other again. When the band plays Dublin, I’ll send you a ticket. I know you’re not my biggest fan, but you’d like that, wouldn’t you, Jane? The best seat in the house?”
“It’s not the same.”
“Not the same as what?”
I couldn’t think of a reply.
“We’ve become real friends, haven’t we, Jane? Not just boss and employee, I mean.”
“Yes,” I replied.
“Here, have a seat.” He sat down on the bench underneath the tree’s wide canopy and scooted over to make room. “After tonight, I’ll be so busy getting ready. We’ve got so much to talk about — the tour, my wedding, your trip to Ireland.” I sat beside him. He continued. “How do you feel about me, Jane?”
It struck me as a strange question. I said nothing, because what could I say?
“Because I’ve had a strange feeling about you, ever since I first saw you…”
“When you almost flattened me with your car,” I supplied mechanically.
“Right. Even as I was giving you shit and you were standing up to me in that quiet, stubborn way you have, I had this feeling about you… that we were, you know…”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “I really, really don’t.”
“Kindred spirits,” he said. “Maybe that sounds all New Agey and cheesy, but it’s how I felt. How I feel. Like we were meant to take care of each other. That as different as we are, we’re weirdly alike.” He paused, then cleared his throat. “But I guess I was wrong.”
“But what if… what if you were…” I wanted to ask him what if he was right, what if there was such a thing as kindred spirits, and we fit that description? But I couldn’t get the question out. I broke down and began to cry, sobs racking my body. “I wish I’d never come to Thornfield Park.”
Mr. Rathburn moved a bit closer on the bench but didn’t touch me. “Because you have to leave?”
Emotion won out over reason. “Yes. Of course. I love Thornfield Park. It’s the only place I’ve felt… valued. And that’s because you’re here, Mr. Rathburn. You could have treated me like an employee, but instead you’ve been a friend to me. No, more than a friend. And now I have to leave you.”
Mr. Rathburn’s voice softened. “Maybe you don’t have to leave.”
“But I do. I couldn’t live here with you and your new wife, and watch myself become nothing to you… because that’s what would happen, and I couldn’t stand it. Do you think because I’m… ordinary… that I don’t have feelings?” I could hear my voice rising, carrying across the field, but for once I didn’t care what the world thought of me. “Because I do have feelings, and if I were beautiful and talented and famous, I’d make it as hard for you to leave me as it is for me to leave you.”
“Of course I know you have feelings.” And Mr. Rathburn stunned me into momentary silence by throwing his arms around me and pulling me to his chest. As I had the day he’d hugged me good-bye before sending me off to New York, I felt his heart pounding against mine. “Jane.” And then, before I could speak again or even think, he pressed his lips to mine.
An electric shock passed through me. For a moment I let him kiss me, but then I pushed him away. I wasn’t thinking clearly. If I had ever suspected that Mr. Rathburn had feelings for me, I’d long since convinced myself I’d been wrong, so why was he kissing me? “No,” I said. “You’re a married man.”
He looked startled. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe not yet, but you will be… soon… and to Bianca Ingram — of all the women you could have chosen! She may be some kind of famous beauty, but if you can’t see that she’s not good enough for you, then you’re not as smart as you pretend you are.” I struggled to free myself from the circle of his arms. “Let me go.” He released me, and I scrambled to my feet.
“I’ll let you go if that’s what you really want,” he said. He looked up at me from the bench, his gray eyes bottomless and warm. “But I wish you would come back and rest your head right here.” He patted his chest. “And let me love you the way you deserve.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?” I took a step backward, then another. “You’ve already made your choice. I’m not going to come between you and your fiancée.”
“No. Of course not.” He fell silent for a moment. “Sit down next to me. Please. I won’t touch you again if you don’t want me to.”
I remained standing. For a moment, neither of us said a word, a mockingbird’s song the only sound. I still couldn’t stop the tears from running down my face. I rummaged in my pockets and found a tissue.
Some time passed before he spoke. “What if I told you that I’m not engaged to Bianca, that I never had the least intention of proposing to her?”
“I wouldn’t believe you,” I said. “You’re… you’re sleeping with her, right?”
“No,” he said. “Maybe the old Nico Rathburn would have.” He thought a moment. “The old me definitely would have. But no, I’m not sleeping with her.”
“But she wanted you. Anyone could see that. Why not?”
He rose
and reached me in a single stride. “Because you’re the one I want,” he said, pulling me close again. “You’re the only one I want. Don’t you believe me?”
“Of course I don’t.”
“Don’t you trust me, then?”
“Not one bit.”
I shut my eyes and inhaled his familiar scent. It would be too easy to just give in and let him hold me, to let him do whatever he wanted to. And why shouldn’t I? Except, of course, that the closer I let him get, the harder it would be to leave him, as I knew I soon would have to. I forced my eyes open.
“How do I make you believe me?” he said. “Bianca Ingram didn’t want me, not really. All she wanted was to butter me up and get me to lower my guard. She wanted to get the best, most intimate photo spread she could pull off, so she flirted with me. Maybe she would have slept with me if that was what it took. I’ve been with a lot of women, Jane. That doesn’t come as any great shock, right?”
I shook my head.
“After a while, even a guy like me wants to be wanted for more than just his money and his power. Do you believe me now?”
I still wasn’t sure I did. “Some of them probably want to sleep with you for your music,” I told him.
“Maybe so. But that’s still not the same as wanting me because they know and understand me and like me even though I’m a flaming asshole,” he said. “Jane, you get me. And I think I get you. Now can you fucking well believe me?”
“But me?” I asked, for the first time allowing myself to entertain the possibility that he might, just might, mean some of what he was saying. “I’m not even pretty.”
He bent and kissed my forehead. And then he pulled the ponytail holder from my hair, brushed back the strands that fell free, and kissed me on my neck. I felt my body turn to liquid beneath his lips. “Jane, Jane, Jane,” he whispered. “Who made you believe you aren’t pretty?” And then, more distinctly, “Can’t you tell how much I want you?” I opened my mouth to speak and he pressed two fingers across my lips. “No matter what you do, you’d better not call me ‘Mr. Rathburn,’ ” he warned. And he lifted his fingers to let me speak.
“Nico,” I said. And he kissed me again, his hands in my hair, and then on my waist. His lips were gentle at first, then more insistent. Then he released me. I opened my eyes and looked up at him. When had it gotten so dark out? With one finger he traced my profile, from my forehead, down my nose, to my chin, then down my throat to the top button of my blouse. Looking me straight in the eyes, he undid the top button. Then, when I didn’t object, he undid the next one.
“Come inside with me,” he whispered, “and let me make love to you” — he undid another button — “all night long, and then all day tomorrow, and then the day after that…”
“You have a show to put on tomorrow night,” I reminded him.
Mr. Rathburn — Nico — sighed deeply. He brushed my hair back again, tucking it behind my ears. “That’s the spirit. You’ll keep me honest, won’t you?”
“I’ll try.” The wind had picked up. It sent the line of arbor vitae bowing back and forth, rustled the horse chestnut canopy above us, and blew my hair into my eyes so I could hardly see. I gave Nico my hand and let him lead me back to the house.
CHAPTER 18
That night, the dark of Nico’s bedroom was slashed again and again by lightning; the storm buffeted the house for an hour. As he undressed me — so slowly I thought I might stop breathing — electricity flickered outside, almost as if caused by the heat in the air between us. In my plain cotton bra and panties — how I wished I’d had on something prettier — I stood and watched him unbutton his shirt while lightning crackled, first on one side of Thornfield Park and then on the other. Nico lifted me in his arms and set me down on the bed. He unclasped my bra, his eyes looking intently into mine, watching for my reaction. Then he eased the panties down over my hip bones. Just then, the clouds opened, and rain pounded against the windows. He kissed his way down my body. I shut my eyes tight and felt myself arc upward to meet his lips. Every nerve in my body sang out at once, till something inside me burst like a soap bubble.
“Darling, darling Jane.” Now the face I loved so well was before me, kissing me again, his lips soft on mine. I ran my hands down the skin of his chest. It felt smooth and warm, with that tangle of coarse fur just at the breastbone.
“Nico.” I savored the taste of his name on my tongue. Could I really be kissing Nico Rathburn, the man I’ve grown to love so hopelessly? The thought made me light-headed. I said his name again, loving the sound of it.
At the exact moment our bodies merged — and to be honest, it hurt, though I know he was trying to be gentle — a bolt of lightning struck so near that the house shook. Barely a second later, thunder rattled the windowpanes. We froze, stunned by the violence and, I think, a little surprised to see each other in the sudden, temporary brightness, to discover each other — so familiar and yet so strange — in this new way. Every so often, a lightning flash would reveal us to each other, and the expression on his face — so rapt, so helpless, so utterly mine — was the most beautiful thing I ever expected to see in my life.
The next morning I woke before Nico. It took me a while to realize I wasn’t dreaming. Strewn across the floor were our clothes. Impulsively, I grabbed Nico’s soft black T-shirt and pulled it on over my head. In the bathroom, I bent over the sink to splash my face with water, and when I straightened, what I saw in the mirror surprised me. It was the same face I’d known all my life — and yet it wasn’t. Though not a particularly glamorous shade of brown, my hair shone in the morning light and fell below my shoulders. My eyes gleamed a brighter green than I’d ever seen them before, and my face was rosy, a dimple in each cheek. My parted lips revealed straight, neat teeth. I looked happy, even pretty.
“What are you smiling at?” Nico had slipped into the room behind me; he wrapped his arms around my waist. I didn’t answer — how could I admit I’d been admiring myself in the mirror? — but he read my mind. “You’re seeing what I’ve seen all along: a lovely, adorable woman.” He nuzzled my neck.
I suddenly remembered my duties. “Maddy… she must be up by now.”
“Lucia’s got her,” Nico said. “Today would have been your usual day off, right? No need to worry.”
Those last four words were the same ones he’d used the night before when, after I’d inquired about being safe, he had reached into the drawer of the bedside table and drawn out a satin-lined mahogany box of condoms. “Standard rock-star equipment,” he’d said with a sly smile. “There’s a stash of these in every room.” Now, blushing at the memory, I slipped from his grasp and began gathering up our clothes from the bedroom floor.
“You can leave that. Amber will take care of it.” His hair rumpled and his eyelids heavy with sleep, he sat down on the bed and yawned. “We need coffee.” He jabbed at the intercom button beside his bed. “Where the hell are Amber and Linda?” He jabbed again and again. “Lucia?”’
“Lucia’s busy,” I said, pulling on my jeans. “You know, you could make your own coffee.”
He looked momentarily puzzled.
“Or don’t you know how?”
“My secret’s out. When I’m not onstage or in the studio, I’m utterly useless.”
“Oh, I can think of some other things you’re good at.” I reached for both his hands and tried to tug him to his feet. “But it’s time you learned to make coffee. Come on. I’ll show you how. It’s not exactly hard.”
“Okay, then. Civilize me.”
“I’m a nanny, not a miracle worker.”
Nico’s first-ever pot of coffee wasn’t bad. We carried our mugs onto the deck and sat side by side on the top step, looking out at the damp grass glistening in the morning sun.
Nico took a sip of coffee. “Hey, this is better than Walter’s.”
“I wouldn’t go quite that far” — I rested my head on his shoulder — “but it’s pretty good for your first try.”
“You’ll
make me into a whole new man.” He threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in a little closer. “And that’s only one of the reasons I love you.”
“I love you too, Nico.”
“And you’ll always love me? Imperfect as I am?”
“I’ll always love you,” I told him, and meant it with my whole heart.
Later that morning, as we ate pancakes together in the breakfast room, our hair still wet from the shower, I looked up and saw Lucia, clipboard in hand. She was alone. Maddy must have been off at preschool.
“Nico, I need to talk to you about…” She stared as though she’d seen something disturbing, and I suddenly saw the two of us through her eyes and realized how perfectly clear it must be that we’d spent the night together. Lucia pursed her lips, looked away, and continued. “You know the horse chestnut tree? The one out in the field? It was struck by lightning last night. Split right in half. I thought I’d call in a tree service to haul it away.”
“Don’t do that,” Nico said. “Leave it as it is. I want to see it for myself.” He turned the page of the Times, apparently unconcerned by Lucia’s cool tone.
“Okay then.” She hurried out of the room.
“Wasn’t that the tree we sat under last night?” I asked. “The one where…”
Nico looked up. “It must be,” he said, the frown line appearing between his eyes.
“Lucia’s upset with us,” I told him. “Or maybe just with me.”
“Upset? Because we’re?” He pointed first at me and then at himself.
“I think so.”
“Well, it’s none of her business.” He put the paper aside. “Try not to worry about what Lucia thinks. You’ve got more important things to think about. For instance: what shall we do today?”
“You have a concert to prepare for, don’t you?”
“All I have to do is roll in for a sound check a few hours before the show. You and I have the whole day to spend together. Let’s zip into New York City. There’s someplace I want to take you. No questions. It’s a surprise.”