Page 36 of Darla's Christmas Knight
And the whole conversation felt surreal, but good.
Cathartic, even.
He looked down at their linked hands.
Darla was here, in his home. And she had come at her own volition. Asking questions about his past.
Listening to his answers.
His eyes burned with tears of gratefulness. He considered it ahugestep forward.
And decided to prod a bit deeper. To reveal the other side of his pain. “I regret Edmund’s death. But Darla, I have never regretted coming to Texas.”
That earned him another penetrating stare. “Why?”
“Because I met you.”
11
His answer stole her breath. And for the first time she pondered what it had costBobbyto break it off with her. He’d made a dying promise to his best friend, a man he considered abrother, had even left his family, his country, to fulfill that promise.
When his identity had become known, she had found the newsclip of Prince Edmund’s final moments on the internet. And recognized a much younger Bobby among the swarm of people. Distraught, yet on full alert for further danger, he had escorted the body of his friend to the ambulance.
For years, Robert Björn Belleroselived a liebut for a very honorable reason. That lie ultimately led him to walk away from herbecause he could no longer live that lie and be with her.
She had always known there was some part of himself he withheld from her. Diverting conversation when she prodded about his background had been a dead giveaway. One she foolishly chose to overlook. At least he hadn’t been hiding awife. “I never told you about Dirk.”
“Dirk?”
“A doctor I briefly worked with before returning home. A new partner in the practice. Long story short, he charmed his way into my bed. Until a very pregnant woman walked into the reception area and introduced herself as his wife.”
“Bloody wanker.”
“I was devastated. And so very, very ashamed,” she whispered, recalling those dark days.
“You didn’t know.”
Her laugh was hollow and bitter. “The signs were there. We never went to his apartment. He had excuses. Just moved. Blowup mattress. Not unpacked yet. Blah, blah, blah. Then there were the furtive phone calls. Last minute cancelling a date.” She huffed. “But I was too enamored, toostupidto comprehend his duplicity.”
He placed his left hand over their joined ones and squeezed.
“It gets worse,” she continued. “The wife knew. I got a note from her a couple of days after that visit. ‘Dirk likes dipping into chocolate.’”
Those words still stung. Not that she hadn’t dealt with racist comments before that moment, but the nasty crudeness of the note had hurt something awful. “When you broke up with me, I wondered …” She trailed off, admitting a deep-seated fear.
“If you being Black had something to do with it?”
“Yeah.”
“The color of your skin was never a factor for me, Darla. I was a goner from the moment we met. I did, however, immediately picture that pale pink lacy item you threw at me on your dark skin. It was a huge turn-on.”
Her cheeks heated remembering their first encounter. “Perv.”
He grinned. “Guilty as charged. But it was your sass that really hooked me.”
“Sass?” She widened her eyes. “I amnotsassy.”
His laugh was hard and genuine. “Love, you looked me up and down, and said, ‘Well, aren’t you a shiny knight in dusty armor? Did your horse get tired, or are you just here for the view?’”
