Louise Fuller - Vows Made in Secret

Prudence felt her cheeks grow warm. She needed no reminder of how eloquent his actions had been. Particularly not now, when she needed to keep her thoughts in some semblance of order. But his smile was like a beam of sunlight breaking through cloud. She just wanted to follow it...place herself in its path.

Focus, she told herself firmly. She cleared her throat and began to talk quickly. ‘As I said before, I know how keen your grandfather is to begin the cataloguing. So I think we should push on with the original timeframe.’

He stepped towards her and she tensed, her body suddenly a helix of tendon and muscle.

‘You’re the expert,’ he murmured.

Blushing, Prudence swallowed. His voice was such a captivating mix of soft and seductive. She felt heat begin to build inside her and for one brief moment allowed herself to remember the touch of his fingers, travelling over her skin with the virtuosity of a concert pianist. How the rippling rhythms of their bodies had quickened and intertwined to a breathless cadence.

Prudence took a deep breath. Surely she couldn’t still actually find him attractive? She must have more sense than that. But what had sense got to do with lust? No woman alive could stand next to Laszlo Cziffra and feel nothing.

Somewhere in the castle a door slammed and Prudence started forward with surprise. For a moment her hands grazed his chest as she swayed against him and then, breathing unsteadily, she teetered backwards. They were standing inches apart now. He was so close she could feel the heat of his skin. Her heart was pounding as though she’d been running and her body was trembling helplessly. He smelt of newly mown hay and rain-soaked earth and she felt almost dazed with longing as every inch of her reacted to him.

‘Castles were built to keep out arrows and cannon fire. Not draughts,’ he said drily.

Still horrified by the revelation that her body apparently had no loyalty to her heart, Prudence dragged her gaze away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed or, worse, correctly interpreted her physical response to him.

‘Weren’t they?’ she mumbled, her cheeks flushing. ‘Wh—what was I saying? Oh, yes. The timeframe. Three weeks is a typical estimate for a preliminary assessment. It’s important to be thorough at that stage.’ She frowned. ‘And don’t worry. If I have any problems I can speak to Mr Seymour. In fact, I’ll be in close contact with him the entire time.’ She gave a small, tight smile. ‘I find it helpful to have another point of view. For clarity.’

Her smile faded and she stared at him nervously, aware of a sudden stillness in him, a slight narrowing of his eyes, although she couldn’t quite understand what had changed. But then, why should she care? She was here to work, and Laszlo’s moods were no longer her concern.

Clearing her throat, she straightened her shoulders and forced herself to ignore the undertow of apprehension tugging at the back of her mind. ‘A-and obviously I’m happy to discuss any concerns Mr de Zsadany has,’ she stammered. His eyes clashed with hers and despite herself she felt another twinge of foreboding.

‘Obviously...’ he said coolly. ‘I know how you love to discuss problems.’

Her heart was thumping hard. There it was again: a tiny but deliberate dig. He was taking what was nothing more than a casual, unpremeditated remark and making it something personal, to do with the past. Their past. She felt sudden swift anger. Hadn’t they agreed to call a truce? This was going to be hard enough as it was, without him making a difficult situation worse with his snippy double-edged comments.

Her mind was so churned up with emotion it took her another couple of moments before she understood just how difficult the situation was going to be. For it wasn’t as if she was just going to work with Laszlo—her blood seemed to still in her veins—she was going to have to live with him too.

A tremor grew at the back of her neck. Of course she would have to live with him. But not like this. Not dreading his every remark—not deliberately having to misunderstand his every insinuation. She needed to make it clear now that she would not tolerate being treated like that.

‘I don’t like discussing problems.’ Returning his gaze coldly, she lifted her chin. ‘It’s just that I think communication is key to a successful relationship.’

She had meant to sound assured, without being overtly confrontational. But she knew the moment she spoke that it was the wrong thing to say. For he went entirely still and his eyes locked onto hers like an infrared missile seeking its target.

Swaying, she took a faltering step backwards. ‘I didn’t mean us—’

‘Don’t bother! I already know pretty much all there is to know about your views on relationships.’

Watching the shock and confusion bloom on her face, Laszlo felt a surge of satisfaction.

His voice was little more than a rasp. ‘You explained them to me in great detail when you walked out on me— Prudence .’

She flinched as he turned towards her and spat her name into the air as though it were a poison he had inadvertently swallowed.

‘In fact...’ He paused, his lip curling with contempt. ‘You made it abundantly clear how pitiable I was to have ever imagined that our relationship might work, given the range and depth of my flaws.’

‘N-no. I didn’t—’ Prudence began shakily, shocked and unnerved by the level of venom in his voice. But her voice died as he stepped towards her and she saw real anger in his eyes.

‘Oh, but you did.’ His face was tight with emotion. ‘Only you were wrong. They weren’t my flaws. They were yours!’ he ground out between gritted teeth. ‘You were just too weak and snobbish—’

‘I was not weak and snobbish.’ The injustice of his words melted her shock and suddenly she was coldly furious. ‘I just didn’t want to pretend any more.’

‘Pretend what? That you loved me?’ His face was blunt, angular with hostility.

Liquid misery trickled through her. ‘That we had anything in common.’

He shook his head. ‘Like loyalty, you mean? Maybe you’re right. We certainly felt differently about that !’

‘You don’t need to tell me about the differences between us,’ she snapped, stung into speech by the censure in his voice. ‘I know all about them. They’re why our relationship didn’t work. Why it could never have worked.’

Her throat tightened as he looked at her coldly.

‘Our relationship didn’t fail because we were different. It failed because you cared more about those differences than you did about me,’ he snarled. ‘Tell me, pireni , how are you finding my communication skills now? Am I making myself clear enough?’

Her heart gave a sudden jerk as abruptly he turned and walked towards the fireplace.

For a moment she stood frozen, gazing speechlessly at his back. Anger was building inside her, displacing all other feeling, and suddenly she crossed the room and yanked him round to face her.

‘That’s not true! I did care—’ She broke off. Rage, hot and unstoppable, choked her words. ‘Don’t you dare try and tell me what I felt.’ She set her jaw, her eyes narrowing. ‘If I cared about the differences between us it was because, yes, I thought they mattered. Unlike you, I like to talk about the things that matter to me. And, crazy though this may sound, I try and tell the truth. But what would you know about that? The truth is like a foreign language to you.’

She watched his eyes darken with fury, the pupils seeming almost to engulf the golden irises.

‘The truth?’ he said savagely. ‘You left me because you thought I wasn’t good enough for you. That’s the truth. You’re just too much of a coward to admit it.’