Хорошая книга, если вас интересует тема "Она вроде намекала, но к себе не подпускала". Если не интересует - то это произведение разновидности "женский роман" - диагноз, со всеми вытекающими последствиями.
He wished he could blame this restlessness that chewed at him on something as simple as sex. But that basic thirst had been slaked. He still wanted her, he couldn’t look at her and not want her. Yet it went so far beyond the physical.
He supposed it had always been beyond the physical.
How could he explain that he was a different man with her? Could be a different man if she felt even a shadow for him of what he felt for her. Living without her was possible. He’d done it before and knew he would do it again. But he would never be what he wanted to be, or have what he wanted to have, unless she was part of it.
There was nothing he could do but take what she gave him, and let her go when the time came.
He knew what it was like to exist for the moment. Most of his life had been like that. It was demeaning to realize that one woman could make him yearn for a future, for boundaries and responsibilities.
A woman, he knew, who didn’t believe him capable of accepting any responsibility.
There was no way to prove her wrong. They both understood that if he found what he was looking for, he would take it. And he would use it. Once he possessed Angelique’s Curse, he would lose Tate. There was no way he could hold both of them, and no way he could live with himself if he ignored his debt to his father.
Now, alone, watching the stars mirror themselves on the water, he could hope that the necklace and all it stood for remained buried under the greedy sea.
“I’m sorry.” She came in quickly, her hair flying as she turned to close and lock the door. “I was sketching the ivory fan and lost track. It’s fantastic to realize something so delicate could survive untouched and perfect for all these years.”
She stopped. He was staring at her in the way he sometimes did that made her feel awkward and terrifyingly transparent. What was in his mind? she wondered.
How did he hide those emotions that drove him? It was like looking at a volcano and knowing that far beneath the surface, lava was boiling.
“Are you angry? It’s only quarter past.”
“No, I’m not angry.” Those eyes, with all the secrets glinting, held hers relentlessly. “Do you want some wine?”
“You brought wine?” Suddenly nervous, she shook back her hair. “That’s nice.”
“I filched it from La Rue. He picked up some fancy French kind when he went ashore with Marla the other day. It’s already opened.” Matthew picked up the bottle and poured two glasses.
“Thanks.” She took the glass and wondered what to do next. Normally, they simply dived to the floor and tore off their clothes, as greedy as children unwrapping gifts. “There’s a storm brewing west of here. It could be trouble.”
“It’s still early for hurricanes. Buck’s keeping his eye on it, though. Tell me about the fan La Rue brought up this afternoon.”
“It’s probably worth two or three thousand. More to a serious collector.”
He reached out to touch her hair. “Tate, tell me about the fan.”
He wished he could blame this restlessness that chewed at him on something as simple as sex. But that basic thirst had been slaked. He still wanted her, he couldn’t look at her and not want her. Yet it went so far beyond the physical.
He supposed it had always been beyond the physical.
How could he explain that he was a different man with her? Could be a different man if she felt even a shadow for him of what he felt for her. Living without her was possible. He’d done it before and knew he would do it again. But he would never be what he wanted to be, or have what he wanted to have, unless she was part of it.
There was nothing he could do but take what she gave him, and let her go when the time came.
He knew what it was like to exist for the moment. Most of his life had been like that. It was demeaning to realize that one woman could make him yearn for a future, for boundaries and responsibilities.
A woman, he knew, who didn’t believe him capable of accepting any responsibility.
There was no way to prove her wrong. They both understood that if he found what he was looking for, he would take it. And he would use it. Once he possessed Angelique’s Curse, he would lose Tate. There was no way he could hold both of them, and no way he could live with himself if he ignored his debt to his father.
Now, alone, watching the stars mirror themselves on the water, he could hope that the necklace and all it stood for remained buried under the greedy sea.
“I’m sorry.” She came in quickly, her hair flying as she turned to close and lock the door. “I was sketching the ivory fan and lost track. It’s fantastic to realize something so delicate could survive untouched and perfect for all these years.”
She stopped. He was staring at her in the way he sometimes did that made her feel awkward and terrifyingly transparent. What was in his mind? she wondered.
How did he hide those emotions that drove him? It was like looking at a volcano and knowing that far beneath the surface, lava was boiling.
“Are you angry? It’s only quarter past.”
“No, I’m not angry.” Those eyes, with all the secrets glinting, held hers relentlessly. “Do you want some wine?”
“You brought wine?” Suddenly nervous, she shook back her hair. “That’s nice.”
“I filched it from La Rue. He picked up some fancy French kind when he went ashore with Marla the other day. It’s already opened.” Matthew picked up the bottle and poured two glasses.
“Thanks.” She took the glass and wondered what to do next. Normally, they simply dived to the floor and tore off their clothes, as greedy as children unwrapping gifts. “There’s a storm brewing west of here. It could be trouble.”
“It’s still early for hurricanes. Buck’s keeping his eye on it, though. Tell me about the fan La Rue brought up this afternoon.”
“It’s probably worth two or three thousand. More to a serious collector.”
He reached out to touch her hair. “Tate, tell me about the fan.”
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