Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

B rian put down his cell phone, his hands shaking so much he nearly dropped it. Elaine, Bella's agent, had just called him. She'd been trying to ring Bella, but no one was picking up. Elaine didn't seem to know that Brian and Bella had split up, or if she did, she wasn't about to let on. Instead she launched into a diatribe about Bella's book Martin's Journey , and how it had sold out and was about to go into another reprint. Elaine finished the call with details of the publicity Bella had turned down, begging Brian to talk some sense into her. In ten minutes he knew everything about Reading England and all the chances Bella was letting slip through her fingers.

Bella's book was a bestseller.

He couldn't believe it.

Brian had been avoiding anything to do with writing since he left the cottage, and now he learned that Bella had finally done what he never thought she could.

He had walked out on her after all this time, and now she had a bestseller. He sat down heavily on the antique chair in Georgiana's gleaming entrance hall.

Anger built in him, a hot, self-righteous fury, with Bella and the way she'd treated him. She hadn't once tried to call him and apologize. It had been he who had gone back to the cottage to see her, to try and talk some sense into her.

He'd arrived to find the place empty, but there were plenty of signs that someone had been there recently. The smashed plates and smell of burning worried him, and he'd only waited a minute or two before deciding to climb the path to the castle ruins. She was probably up there. She was always up there, moping around, dreaming about Maclean. Brian had come to loathe the man. If he wasn't already dead, Brian would have wished death on him.

At first he couldn't believe his eyes. The mist had come down over the castle ruins, and the whole scene was just as cold and bleak as he remembered, but as he stood peering toward the gateway, he'd seen movement. He couldn't take it in at first. He'd kept watching, thinking it must be a hallucination. Bare skin and entwined limbs, an erotic living sculpture. Bella and her man were so caught up in their lust they didn't even know he was there. Shameless. Sickening.

He'd been utterly shocked. Bella? This woman who was acting so wildly and primitively was his Bella? More embarrassingly, he'd been turned on. He'd never seen her like that, wanton, her hair loose about her, and giving as good as she got. She was like one of those pagan fertility goddesses he'd looked at in the museums she was always dragging him into.

Brian had begun to back away, but the man had heard him and jumped up, calling out aggressively. Until then Brian had been tossing up the idea of confronting him, but now he thought better of it. God Almighty, the bastard even had a weapon, some sort of sword! Brian had run off, back to the car, and left before they could catch him. He'd glanced in his rearview mirror for miles, worried he might be followed.

But he couldn't forget what he'd seen, and he'd been mulling over his hurt and anger ever since. The memory stayed with him. It was like the car crashes he sometimes came across when he was driving on the motorway, when he couldn't seem to help looking despite knowing he might catch a glimpse of something he'd rather not see. The memory of his visit to Bella was like that, and he replayed it over and over.

The question he found himself asking the most was: Why didn't she ever behave like that when she was with me?

That she hadn't just made her betrayal all the worse.

After all the sacrifices he'd made for her, all the times he'd tried to help her and turn her into something better. She'd never appreciated him or his efforts. She hadn't understood that if it hadn't been for him, she'd never have been able to keep going. If it hadn't been for him, she'd never have become a bestselling author.

And now that Bella was a bestselling author, who on earth was going to be there to help her choose the right clothes and get her into some sort of shape to face the media?

Brian shuddered as he had a vision of Bella appearing on television in her blue robe and slippers, with those extra pounds on show for all the world to see. He'd just die of embarrassment.

There was only one thing to do.

He'd have to forgive her and take her back. She'd be so grateful she'd soon give her new man the elbow, if that's what he was. Thinking about it now, Brian began to doubt it was anything more than a fling. The brute probably came calling at the cottage looking for a handout, decided Bella was easy pickings, took what he wanted, and was now long gone. When Brian turned up at her door, she'd fall on him in tears and beg him to help her.

Pleased with the ego-soothing scenario he'd created, Brian smiled to himself. Yes, she'd be so very grateful when he agreed, a little grudgingly, to help her. He wouldn't forgive her straightaway, oh no, he'd make her earn it. And he'd drop a few hints about what he'd seen up in the ruins, nothing concrete, just enough to keep her guessing and worrying that he might leave her again.

Perhaps he should travel up there tonight? There was so much to do if he was to get her into shape, and they'd need to head south to London as soon as possible if they weren't to miss out on the opportunities Elaine had created for them.

But Brian decided he didn't want to look too eager. Tomorrow would be soon enough, and he could take some champagne with him. Yes, champagne would be a nice touch, something good but not too expensive.

To celebrate Bella's success, and their reconciliation.