Almost Forever Read online

  How could Max not have mentioned all of this? It wasn’t as if it were an insignificant detail. She had worried about living up to the Halseys, and now she had fallen in love with a man who made the Halseys look like Johnny-come-latelies.

  She took a quick shower, unable to stand the grime of travel a moment longer. A thick, fleecy toweling robe hung on a hook behind the door, and Claire wrapped herself in it rather than try to hunt hers out of the pile of luggage. Leaving the bathroom, she stopped short when she saw Max lounging in the reading chair. He looked up, that intent look coming into his eyes when he saw her shiny face and warm, damp body wrapped in the robe.

  “My mother can have the most perverse sense of humor at times,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “Come here, love, and let me hold you for a little while before I’m banished to Hayden Hill.”

  She put her hand in his and found herself gathered close, then perched on his lap. Sighing, Claire put her head on his shoulder and felt his arms close around her with steely strength.

  “You’ve been quiet since we left New York,” he murmured. “Is something wrong, or is it just jet lag?”

  While he held her, nothing was wrong, but she couldn’t spend the rest of her life in his arms. “No, there’s nothing wrong.”

  He slipped his hand inside the robe and cupped her breast, stroking her flesh with gentle fingers. “Shall I leave you to your nap, then? Your mother and father have already gone to their room. The telephone is ringing constantly, but Mother is fending everyone off.”

  She clutched at his shoulders. “Don’t go, Max, please. Hold me for a little while longer.”

  “All right, love.” His voice was low. He tipped her face up and kissed her slowly, his tongue probing into her mouth, and his hand was no longer quite so gentle. “This is going to be an endlessly long week,” he said, moving his lips down her throat. “I may kidnap you one afternoon and take you to a place where we can be alone.”

  If only he could kidnap her and take her away now. If only the wedding were behind them and they could return to Dallas.

  * * *

  It only got worse. Sometimes it seemed as if she never had a moment to herself, and every day there were more and more people to meet. Max’s wedding was an excuse for a party every night as the celebration escalated. Alma was in her element, and Harmon was perfectly comfortable with the life of an English country gentleman. Then Martine and Steve arrived with the children, and they were exuberantly welcomed. Martine got on like wildfire with Max’s outgoing sisters, Emma and Patricia and Victoria, and Prescott House rang with their chatter and laughter.

  There were lunches, afternoon teas and endless visits sandwiched between appointments with the photographer, the caterer and the florist. The gowns were pressed and ready, and the tuxedos had arrived from the drycleaners. The most amazing thing to Claire was that no one had had to rent one. It was a gracious, cushioned life, marching to a well-ordered beat, with privileges taken for granted.

  There was no time to see Max alone, but becoming acquainted with his background told her more about him than what she had learned before. He had been born superior and saw nothing unusual about his life, even though he was the family maverick. He was a Conroy of Hayden-Prescott. The earldom was a rich one, and his family estate had not been opened to tourists in an effort at survival. Max’s inheritance made him independently wealthy; it was only his own restless genius and drive that sent him first to Canada then to the States to take on the challenge of high-level corporate dealings. Centuries of aristocratic breeding ran in his veins.

  She couldn’t fit into his world. A man in his position needed a wife who was comfortable in society, and Claire knew that she would always prefer a far more private life. She had driven herself into the ground trying to be suitable for the Halseys and had failed. How could she possibly measure up to the standards of the Conroys of Hayden-Prescott? They were the elite, and she was an assistant from Houston, Texas.

  The celebrations going on around her took on an unreal, circus quality, and she went through the motions, doing as she was told, going where she was guided, while the certainty grew inside her that it was all a mistake. Max would soon come to see how unsuitable she was, and he would be impatient. She knew all the stages well, having suffered through them before. First he would be impatient because she wasn’t living up to expectations; then would come indifference, when it no longer mattered. And, finally, he would pity her. She didn’t think she could bear that, to have him pity her. Isolated from him, without even the reassurance of his passion, Claire withdrew as she had always done in an effort to protect herself. Their marriage wouldn’t have a firm base even under the best of circumstances, with only a lopsided love holding it together. Max’s reasons for proposing to her weren’t clear. Perhaps he thought she would be suitable; perhaps he was ready to begin his own family. But he hadn’t proposed out of love. Even during all the times when they had made love, with passion burning so high between them that sometimes she felt she would shatter in his arms, he’d never said anything about love.

  She had to call it off before it went any further. When she thought of what she was about to do, of the scandal it would cause, Claire went cold, but she couldn’t see any other alternative. The marriage simply wouldn’t work, and it would destroy her if one day Max despised her for her inability to be what he wanted, what he expected, what he deserved.

  She reached that conclusion the day before the wedding, but she had no opportunity to talk to him. They were always surrounded by family, both his and hers, and Rome and Sarah had arrived to add to the crowd. The wedding rehearsal went off without a hitch. Everyone was in high spirits, laughing and joking, and the ancient enormous stone church echoed with their joy. Claire watched it all with dark, stricken eyes, wondering what they would all think of her when they knew the wedding had been called off.

  Dear God, she couldn’t just leave him standing at the altar. His fierce pride would never forgive her for that, and she couldn’t live if he hated her. Determined to talk to him, Claire threaded her way through the crowd and caught his sleeve. “Max?”

  He smiled down at her. “Yes, love?” Then one of his cousins hailed him, and she lost his attention. Her nails bit into her palms as she stood beside him, trying to smile and act normally when she felt brittle inside, as if she would shatter at the slightest touch.

  “Max, it’s important!” she said desperately. “I have to talk to you!”

  Max looked down at her again, and this time he saw her pale, taut face, the tension in every line of her body. He covered her hand with his, holding her fingers to his arm. “What is it? Is something wrong?”

  “It’s private. Can we go somewhere we can talk?” Her eyes begged him, and automatically he put his arm around her as if he could shield her from whatever was bothering her. “Yes, of course,” he said, turning to walk with her to the door.

  “Oh, no, you two lovebirds!” someone called. “You can’t sneak out on the night before your wedding!”

  Max looked over his shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, ushering Claire out the door. “Of course I can.”

  He led her outside into the cool English night, and the darkness folded around them as they walked down the lane toward Prescott House, leaving behind the brilliantly lit church. Their steps crunched on the loose gravel, and Max pulled her closer in an effort to keep the chill from her bare arms. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

  She stopped and closed her eyes, praying for strength to get through this. “It’s all a mistake,” she said in a muffled tone.

  “What is?”

  If only he didn’t sound so patient! Tears blurred her eyes as she looked up at him in the darkness. “This is,” she said, waving her hand at the church behind them. “All of it. You, me, the wedding. I can’t go through with it.”

  He drew in a sharp breath, and tension invaded his muscles. “Why is it a mistake? I thought everything was going along well. My family likes you,