Chapter 11
ELEVEN
By the time Sienna braved the bedroom Rhys had already finished there. She pulled on some clothes, feeling colder than she had the entire time in Sydney. Summoning courage, she walked into the living area. He was standing by the window, looking out through the thin lines of the blinds. He must have heard her because he turned immediately.
‘I was thinking Thai for dinner. What do you say?’
She stared at him. The smile was there, there was even a slight twinkle in his eye. But his heart was missing.
Her own heart sank. Useless. She’d tried and failed. He’d never let her beyond the barriers and into the reserves he held so deep. She shook her head a little. Such a shame. He was a man who could offer so much—to someone. If only he’d stop for a second and let that someone in. But it wasn’t going to be her. And, she acknowledged sadly, nor should it be. She was going beyond her own boundaries as it was. Why blur his as well?
‘Tell me about your trip.’
So she was going to be doing the talking—again. And she did. Talked to him about the plans for South America, her desire to see the ancient Inca settlement. Then she was due to fly to London. Hopefully get some work there. Maybe travel about a bit. Ireland? The Continent? She really didn’t know but she kept up the chatter. Not wanting the situation to descend into awkward silence. A couple of times he looked about to say something. Then stopped. She looked away, tried to ignore her own hurt. He wouldn’t talk to her. He wouldn’t trust her. He couldn’t love her. The sense of futility grew. There was no point any more. And she shouldn’t hang around to go from bruised to broken.
Rhys found the curry utterly tasteless. Might as well be chewing cardboard. This slop was from his favourite Thai restaurant? Maybe he was coming down with something and his taste buds were the first to be infected. He watched Sienna spoon more sauce onto her rice. She was talking, as much as usual, but with restraint. Being careful not to cross any lines. He knew she was holding back over what had happened in the bathroom. In her particularly unique way she’d asked him about the scar, invited him to confess to her. And the thing was he’d been tempted, so tempted. Still was. But it wasn’t possible. That was what had made him so angry.
He knew he hadn’t hurt her in a physical sense. The way her hips had risen to meet his, matching his energy, his rhythm. The way her hands had pressed him closer, the way she had cried his name as sensation had overruled everything. Despite his anger, his lack of finesse, she had still taken him, enveloping him in her softness, wanting him no matter what. It made him think that maybe, even if she knew it all, she’d still embrace him. That thought was so heady, so intoxicating, he could hardly reason. He wanted it—to confide in her, to take her comfort. And he was beginning to think he wanted it long-term.
But it couldn’t happen. He drank deeply from his glass of water. Trying to cool down, calm down. It ripped him apart that the one person to whom he longed to give everything was so vulnerable. And her vulnerability would make him vulnerable. And that he couldn’t allow.
So he couldn’t talk about it. He tried to switch back to usual mode of trying to forget it at all times. Some things ran too deep ever to be touched, not by her. Yet somehow she’d got so close. He’d had to push back—barely hiding the hurt. He just wanted to feel better. Wanted to find that physical relief.
But it was only temporary. And now he felt worse.
He pushed his plate away, overcome by a sense of foreboding. Something really, really bad was going to happen if she went on that trip. He knew it in his bones. ‘Are you sure you should do it?’
‘Do what?’
He’d interrupted her mid-flow and was ashamed to admit he hadn’t caught up with her last sentence. He was still struggling with the whole concept. ‘Your trip. South America.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Are you sure it’s wise? I mean, maybe you’re not up to it yet.’
‘Not up to it? What do you mean not up to it?’
He’d got her back up just like that. He wasn’t getting this out right. ‘I?—’
‘Are you saying you don’t think I can do it?’
‘No, but?—’
‘Don’t you dare lecture me on what I can and can’t do.’
The snap came quicker and sharper than he’d anticipated. ‘Peru isn’t the easiest of destinations. The ruins will be wonderful but it’s a hard trek—the path to the top outlook is steep and narrow.’
‘So?’
‘You have a heart condition, Sienna. You have to be careful when travelling at altitude. You’re not trekking all the way up there, are you?’ His mind sped into medic mode. ‘What about antibiotics? Have you got some with you? You’re at greater risk of?—’
‘I’m well aware of what I’m at risk of. I don’t need you to tell me.’ She put her fork down. ‘You might be a doctor, Rhys, but you’re not my doctor.’
‘I’m not lecturing you in my professional capacity. I’m talking common sense.’ He glared at her. ‘You’re a woman travelling alone. What if you got in trouble?’
‘Oh, please, we’re living in the twenty-first century. Women travel alone everywhere all the time.’
‘That doesn’t make it sensible. I’d be saying the same thing if you were going Outback or to Asia or… anywhere.’ He clamped his jaw shut and glared some more. Anger continued to rise. What the hell was she doing on this trip anyway? What about her friends, her family, her life? ‘Even your mates at the hostel travel with someone. Why aren’t you doing this with a friend?’
‘That’s the whole point, Rhys. I want to do this on my own.’ Hurt glistened in her eyes and he knew it wasn’t just from this line of conversation. ‘I don’t need anyone, Rhys.’
‘But you might. What if you have an accident? What if you get in trouble?’
‘I’m not going to get in trouble. I am not weak, Rhys. I can do anything.’
‘Fine! Smash your head against that wall. Go on. Do it. Just to prove you can.’ He pointed to the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room. ‘No? Not going to? Because it’s a dumb thing to do. And so is jetting off to who knows where all by yourself. A dumb thing to do.’
‘It is not. This is what I want.’ Her eyes were bright. ‘I want this. I’m leaving. I’m living my life. Mine . I’m not sharing it. And I will not be told what I can and can’t do by you or anyone else. okay?’
‘Well, I…’ don’t want you to ‘…think it’s stupid,’ he said weakly.
‘Well, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.’ She pushed her plate away, food half eaten. ‘Maybe I should go back to the hostel.’
‘No!’ He felt like banging her head on the wall for her. ‘No.’ He repeated it, less loud but just as vehement. He thought of another point. ‘There are snakes there, you know. Lots and lots of snakes. And spiders. Big ones.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ She positively smoked at him. ‘We have a few hours left, Rhys. Can’t we just enjoy it? Forget about my trip. Why do you want to ruin this last day?’
Good question. Why did he? Because it was all wrong. Everything felt wrong all of the time. Except when he was deep inside her. Then it was all very, very right. But that couldn’t be right. She was not the one to want more from. He was filled with the desperate need to be with her and the stark knowledge that it couldn’t be for any more than this one last night. No way could it be more. He could not take the risk.
He stood up from the table so fast he knocked over his chair. ‘Forget it. Forget everything. Let’s not waste another minute.’
But the hesitation in her face was unmistakable now. That first night, it had been the merest flicker, gone again under the weight of desire. Now, he saw, the desire had been stamped out by the burden of insecurity. He didn’t blame her but still he tried. He speared her gaze with his as he stepped forward, wanting the physical attraction to overrule their heads and hearts. He wanted to hold her close, kiss her, make the doubts disappear in the heat of the moment. Just once more.
Her gaze slid away, avoiding him. He’d held back and now she was shutting him out. He understood but he hated it. He wanted to restore her openness, her wide-eyed honesty. But to do that, he’d have to be the honest, open one.
Could he give just a little of what she was asking? Could he talk to her? She seemed to offer so much if he did.
He ran his fingers through her hair. Wanting to imprint the feel of her, the scent of her, the very essence of her, in his mind and body.
He was so close to caving in, so close to confessing. So torn. Wanting to trust her. Knowing he shouldn’t. What had she said? Relationships didn’t start this way. Could there be the level of trust he needed? Could he commit to someone who might not be around for as long as he needed?
He pushed away the thoughts, concentrated on actions, on sensations. He traced the line of her jaw with his finger. Nudged her chin so she faced him again, but her lashes brushed her cheek and she wouldn’t lift them.
Sienna. His blue-eyed Siren. Even now, in silence, she called to him. Tempting him to surrender that which he had locked away for so long—his secrets, his heart. He inched nearer. If he kissed her the passion would override the promise of the tranquillity that might come if he talked with her. But, much as he wanted to taste her, a piece would still be missing and finally the need to fix things was stronger. He wanted to explain, just a little—wanted to right the wrong inside. Wanted her to understand why this could only be physical, and only for now.
Still she wouldn’t meet his gaze. It made him feel worse than anything. He didn’t want her to step away. Didn’t want her to go back to the hostel. He needed to buy some time. They needed respite from this all-consuming intensity.
He twirled her hair some more. Became aware of the way she was standing so still before him. Almost as if she was holding her breath.
‘Why don’t we go see a movie?’ he muttered. ‘We could go for coffee after and...’ Silence fell again. He lightly stroked across her high cheekbones, the silky soft skin so smooth under his fingertips.
‘And what?’ Her prompt was quiet. Her expression still hidden.
‘Talk.’ He wanted to. God, the longing. Her lashes swooped up. Her eyes were like deep pools and he wanted to bathe in their healing beauty. Still the fear held him back—the pain of loss and the desperate need to avoid more of that kind of pain. The pressure in his chest was immense. Everything was bubbling so close to the surface, closer than it had ever been. And he wanted to be free of it. But his burden was heavy and she was so slight and he couldn’t quite be sure. Not yet.
She was silent a long time.
‘Please. Just something light. I know a great café for after. The music’s not too loud and it has comfy sofas you can curl up in.’ If she curled at one end he could sit beside her. Maybe he could touch her hand, or toy with her hair, and maybe, just maybe, he could talk to her about what had happened on the day that everything had changed.
Don’t walk out on me just yet.
What he had to say might hurt her, but if he didn’t try he’d probably hurt her even more. And even though this had to come to an end, he didn’t want to upset her more than he had to.
‘Okay.’ She put a hand to her chaotic hair. ‘Let me go and freshen up.’
He felt a spurt of relief, an easing in the ribcage, sent her a small smile. ‘I’ll find out what’s on.’
She left the room and after a deep breath he went to the kitchen counter where he’d chucked the mail that had been delivered with lunch. He pushed around the stack of letters and the advertising circulars and found the day’s paper in the pile. Unfolded it and started leafing through the pages to find the entertainment section. He got to the social pages. Stopped. Stared at his own face in full colour. They were on the beach and he was looking at her and his feelings were there for the world to read. On the other side of the headline was another picture of Sienna alone—smiling straight at the camera.
MAITLAND’S MYSTERY MATCH
Single women of Sydney sigh with despair over this. It seems the city’s hottest bachelor has been snagged at last. Rhys Maitland, heir to the Maitland billions, was snapped in his favourite haunt with a strawberry-blonde who, as the pictures show, had him spellbound. What began as an ill-concealed argument became a tentative reconciliation with the blonde giving him a hard time. They finally left the tapas bar and walked to Rhys’ nearby luxury apartment—where the Maitland magic must have worked as the blinds have yet to be opened!
Our source tells us Rhys checked into the hostel she was staying at, determined to catch up with the beauty. And as our pictures show, he certainly did that…
Rhys stopped reading, stared sightlessly across the kitchen as it sank in, Source. Sienna. The drivel was merely an add-on to the steamy photo of them kissing on the beach the morning they’d failed to play volleyball. He’d been taken for a ride. Once was unfortunate. Twice was sheer stupidity.
The fear that had been raging within rose and transformed into a fury that was blinding. With excessive force he scrunched the paper in his hands.
Sienna ran the brush through her hair and tried not to let the feeling of elation grow beyond all proportion. Take it easy. Keep it slow.
Something had changed. Her lover, with the world’s most impenetrable security system around his heart, might just be about to unlock a gate—a cat-flap, perhaps. A tiny opening into the vast reservoir on the other side. He was so very strong but just then he’d softened—a slight touch. There was hope. She couldn’t help but hope. All too easily she flicked her own doubts out of her mind. Focusing on him, she could forget about her own rules.
She jumped out of her skin when she heard him shout her name.
He appeared in the doorway. ‘You’re just like all the rest, aren’t you?’
‘Rhys?’ Shocked, she watched as he strode towards her, his hands shaking. He shoved the newspaper in her face. She grasped it but couldn’t read—too thrown by his expression, the menace with which he towered over her.
‘Is that what you were writing earlier? More details you can sell for part two of your exposé?’
‘Rhys, what are you talking about?’ Frantic, she glanced down over the headline, saw the picture of herself looking so cheekily at whomever it was taking the photo. Oh, no. ‘Rhys, this wasn’t me.’
‘Yeah, right. When did you tip them off? You’ve known all along, haven’t you?’ He swore. ‘God, how guilty I felt. I really thought I’d hurt you. And you’ve been laughing at me this whole time.’ He stepped back, strode around the room. ‘You’ve played me for such a fool. What is it you’re really after—fifteen minutes of fame? Money?’
‘Rhys, look at me.’ He couldn’t think this had been her. He just couldn’t.
‘Look at you? Like I am there— in love? ’ Bitterly scornful, he stopped pacing, gestured to the paper. ‘Never.’ He spun away, swore some more—ferociously.
She shrank from the vehemence in his voice and the frown on his face. Violently hurt by his words and how quick he was to believe so badly of her. For a second their gazes met—steel lancing tremulous blue.
‘No, don’t give me that look. Your eyes tell lies.’ He turned away from her again, fingers curling back into fists. ‘How could I have been so stupid?’
‘Rhys—’ She panicked that he wouldn’t stop and think.
‘Take the rubbish you helped them write and go.’
‘Rhys!’ She had to talk to him. Had to get her head round what the hell had happened, but he was wild and wasn’t going to listen and wasn’t giving her a second.
‘I can’t believe I was such an idiot. And to think I wanted to tell you…to think I was going to—’ He turned sharply and headed to the door.
‘What, Rhys?’ she cried after him. Her voice breaking as she tried to make him stop, make him hear her. ‘Whatever it is you can tell me!’
‘I can’t!’ He whirled to face her. Stepped towards her with such barely held fury she instinctively moved back. He shouted. Every word wounded. ‘I can’t trust you!’
She stared into his face. Cringing at the blazing anger, the hate she saw there. Crushing hurt swamped her. Her heart ached so hard she thought it would burst. She couldn’t take any more. She wanted to give to him. Wanted him to lean on her the way she had him.
She wanted to love him.
And he thought she’d betrayed him?
They could offer billions and she’d never let him down. But she could say nothing. Do nothing. Could only try to escape the absolute agony she felt at his words. She wanted to hide from the bitter way he looked at her. Wanted to hide from the fact he’d never care for her the way she did for him. Oh, how that hurt.
She tried to bite back the sobs, but they burst out anyway. Deep, racking gulps that stole her fight and her energy. Hardly able to see, she grabbed at her bag, crushing the pages of the paper against her. Scalding tears spilled. Blindly she ran.