The Far Side of Paradise (15 page)

His dogged efforts had only made her more tense, eventually creating a rift, one that had rapidly spiralled out of control.

Cade said quietly, ‘That doesn’t sound like love.’

In a low, shaken voice, she said, ‘He got so angry—as though I was doing it deliberately. I didn’t know how to handle it—’ She stifled a laugh that sounded too much like a sob. ‘I wanted to run home to my mummy and
daddy like a little girl and have them make things all better for me.’

‘But they weren’t there for you.’

‘They were dealing with an outbreak of dengue fever that was killing people.’ Her voice strengthened. ‘So of course I didn’t tell them.’

‘What happened?’

When she shivered his arms tightened around her again. Keeping her face hidden in his shoulder, she mumbled, ‘We were fighting a lot … and he … in the end I told him I didn’t want him and never would, and he … and he … ‘ She stopped, unable to go on.

‘It’s all right.’ In a tone so devoid of emotion it was more threatening than anger, Cade said, ‘Let me guess. He raped you.’

Taryn shuddered. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, adding swiftly, ‘Afterwards he was shattered. He said he still loved me, even though I’d turned him into a monster.’

Every muscle in Cade’s big body tightened. ‘And you believed that—that self-serving, righteous—’ he paused before clearly substituting another word for the one that must have sprung to mind ‘—
rubbish?’

‘At first I did,’ Taryn admitted quietly. ‘And even when I realised he had no right—that he was responsible for what he did, I still believed … ‘

‘That you were frigid,’ he supplied when she couldn’t go on, his voice hard with anger. ‘Well, now you know you aren’t. Far from being frigid, you’re delightfully responsive, all any man could ask for. If he wasn’t able to make you respond, it was probably because you sensed the propensity for violence in him. No man has the right to take out his frustration in rape. It’s every bit as criminal and brutal as beating a woman.’

Something that had been wound tightly inside her for
years eased, dissipated, left her for ever. She felt oddly empty, yet light and free.

More shaken than she’d ever been, she said, ‘I don’t know why I told you all this.’

‘Feel better?’

She sighed. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

Thank you for everything. Thank you for making a woman of me …

‘You don’t need to thank me,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’ve done nothing—you always had the capacity for passion. It was your bad luck you thought you loved someone who didn’t know how to arouse it.’

‘Stupidity, more like,’ she murmured.

He laughed quietly. ‘Who isn’t stupid at nineteen?’

Comforted, she luxuriated in the heat of his body, the smooth lift and fall of his chest, the sensuous, languid delight of being there with Cade. The world righted, reassembled itself, and she yawned.

‘Do you want me to stay?’ he asked.

Taryn’s acrobatic heart jumped in her breast. It was utterly stupid to feel that this was more important than making love with him; that his question even implied some tenuous commitment.

In a voice she hoped sounded lazily contented, she murmured, ‘If you want to.’

His smile sizzled through her. ‘At the moment I don’t think I can move,’ he said and stretched, his big, lithe body flexing before he settled himself back beside her. There was a note of humour in his tone when he finished, ‘But if you’d rather sleep alone I’ll make the effort. A little later.’

‘Mmm.’ Another yawn took her by surprise.

‘Sleep now,’ he said, tucking her against him again.

Taryn had never actually slept with anyone. She and
Antony had always made love in his flat and afterwards she’d gone back to hers, but having Cade beside her felt so natural—so right—she drifted almost immediately into slumber.

Cade waited until her breathing became deep and regular before easing her free of his embrace and turning onto his back, folding his arms behind his head as he stared out into the soft silver-hazed darkness.

Only when she moved away from him did he look at her. Even through the netting, the light of the moon shone strongly enough to pick out the long, elegant line of her sleek body and burnish her skin to a pale ivory quite different from its daylight colour of warm honeyed cream.

His hooded gaze traced the curves of her breasts and waist, the pure line of her profile, the lips his kisses had made tender. Astonishingly, his senses stirred again, startling him.

She’d been a willing and lusty lover, her response deliciously sensual. Yet there had been that intriguing element of … not exactly shyness, more like delighted bewilderment when she’d unravelled in his arms.

Although he was still furious with the man who’d abused her, the realisation that no one else had been able to elicit that shuddering primal response produced a visceral, addictive kick of satisfaction.

Of course, the whole story could be a lie.

His instinctive vehement resistance to this possibility warned him he was on the brink of making a huge mistake—of forgetting the reason Taryn was with him. All he’d intended was to get closer to her, find out what made her tick, why she’d laughed at Peter’s proposal—what had made Peter decide his life was no longer worth living if she wasn’t in it.

But he’d let himself get sidetracked. Seducing her had not been part of the plan.

Unfortunately, he’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her. Worse than that, he’d let his hunger eat away at his self-control.

Had that happened to Peter? Was that why he’d killed himself—because she’d bled him dry and then left him?

Cade fought back a cold anger, realising with icy self-derision that he didn’t want to picture Taryn in his brother’s bed. Shocked to realise his hands had clenched into serviceable fists, he deliberately relaxed every muscle.

He wouldn’t let such a stupid adolescent emotion as jealousy crumble his hard-won self-control.

Life had taught him that ignoring inconvenient or unpleasant facts and possibilities invariably led to foolish decisions and bitter consequences.

Why did the thought of Taryn responding to Peter with the same passion and heady desire she’d shown a few short minutes ago make him feel like committing some act of violence?

His mouth tightened. Because he’d allowed her to get to him. Somehow, in spite of everything he knew and suspected about her, he’d let down his guard.

A seabird called from above the palms, a sorrowing screech that lifted the hairs on the back of his neck.

Ignore the damn bird, he thought grimly. Face facts.

Lust meant nothing—any normal man would look at Taryn’s beautiful face and lithe body and wonder what she was like in bed. But he’d made love to her knowing—and ignoring—the fact she was the only person who knew what had driven Peter to take his life.

He needed to know the reason, and not just because he’d promised his mother he’d find out. For his own peace of mind.

He suspected Peter had always felt slightly inferior. It hadn’t helped that he’d never been able to match Cade physically, or that after their father’s frightening bout of cancer when Peter was at school both parents had tended to rely more and more on their elder son.

Certainly his brother’s behaviour at university hadn’t convinced them he was someone they could rely on. Revelling in the freedom, Peter had wallowed in everything college offered except the opportunity to study.

Cade frowned, remembering how worried their parents had been. Fortunately, his brother’s discovery of talent as a sculptor had ended that period of dissipation. To everyone’s surprise—possibly even Peter’s—his interest had become his passion.

He’d been
good.
He might eventually have been great. To die without ever fulfilling his potential would have been bad enough, but to kill himself because a pretty thief laughed at his offer of love and marriage was a bitter travesty.

Cade took a harsh breath, freezing when Taryn moved beside him. He waited until she settled her long legs and tried not to think of them around his hips, to banish from his mind the way she’d given herself utterly to desire.

To him.

His inglorious satisfaction at that thought both shamed him and brought his body to full alert again.

Staying in her bed had been a stupid, passion-addled decision. As soon as she was sleeping soundly enough he’d leave. Until then, he’d concentrate on the fact that she’d almost certainly spent the money Peter had given
her. If she still had any of it, she wouldn’t have had to resort to a job in a dead-end village.

Perhaps she’d given it to her parents to finance a clinic or a hospital somewhere?

Angered by this futile attempt to provide an excuse, he stared unseeingly across the room.

Think logically, he commanded. It had to be a possibility; although he might think her parents had a very cavalier attitude towards her, she clearly didn’t. She’d been very quick to defend them.

Possibly he could find out if an unexpected amount of money had arrived in her parents’ coffers. He’d get someone onto it tomorrow morning.

A slight breeze shimmered through the white mosquito netting. Again Cade glanced across at the woman beside him. As though his gaze penetrated the veils of sleep, she murmured something and turned back to him. A lovely, sensuous enigma, she lay like a child, one hand under her cheek, her face calm except for a tiny half smile that curled her lips. Long coppery hair tangled across her shoulder, half covering her breasts.

Once again, Cade’s body stirred into urgent hunger. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Lashes fluttering, Taryn gave a little sigh, but her eyes remained closed and almost immediately she sank back into deeper sleep.

Moving with a noiseless tread, Cade scooped up his clothes and headed for the door before he could yield to the temptation to get back into the bed and stroke her into wakefulness, to make love to her again.

No, not to make love.

To have sex with her again, he reminded himself savagely, silently closing her bedroom door behind him.

Back in his own room, he threw his clothes onto a
chair and strode across to the windows, pushing back the shutters to drag warm sea-tangy air into his lungs. It had seemed so simple, so logical to bring her to Fala’isi so he could study her more closely. Instead, he’d got himself into an emotional tangle.

No, not emotional. He was
not
in love with her. He didn’t know what love was about, so whatever he was feeling right now was—irrelevant.

D
AZED
by memories and dreams, Taryn woke from the best sleep she’d experienced for months and smiled sleepily at the crooning of the doves outside. When she’d first heard them she’d been astonished at such a European sound here, but after only a few days they’d become an intrinsic part of Fala’isi for her.

She’d always remember them—along with last night.

Colour burned up through her skin. She was glad Cade had left before she’d woken, yet some weak part of her mourned his absence.

She flung the sheet back, stretching and wincing a little at the protest from rarely used muscles. Making love with Cade had been a considerably more athletic exercise than she was accustomed to.

He’d known exactly what to do to make her body sing with desire, to waken that urgent, exquisite hunger, then send her soaring into an alternate universe where the only thing that mattered was sensual rapture.

She glanced at her watch, muttering as she leapt off the bed. A quick shower left her no time for memories; she pulled on a cool shift that seemed almost formal in this relaxed atmosphere, but had to summon her boldest face when she finally walked out of her room.

Only to find he wasn’t there.

He’d written a note, about as personal as a legal document, telling her he’d be back some time in the afternoon. However, he left her with work to do.

It took her all morning to track down and collate the information he asked for, and when she’d finished she looked along the white coral path for any sign of him.

Nothing. The island drowsed in the bright glow of tropical heat. For once the feathery palm fronds were silent and still against a sky so blue and bold it hurt her eyes. Even the lagoon was too warm when she swam, its silky waters enervating rather than refreshing.

She met him on the shell path just after she’d rinsed off the salt water from her body. Although a
pareu
hid her wet bikini, his gaze kindled and he reached out to touch her shoulder but, to her disappointment, immediately let his hand drop.

‘Enjoy your swim?’ he asked.

‘Very much, thank you.’

Sensation churned through her, exciting yet making her apprehensive. She’d never felt like this before—as though the world was fresh and new and infinitely alluring—and she didn’t know how to deal with it. Would he expect her to be blasé and sophisticated?

He broke into her thoughts by saying abruptly, ‘I’ve cancelled the trip to check out the fishing industry.’

After a startled upwards look, she nodded. ‘OK.’

His black brows lifted. ‘No protests? No insistence that you’ve been looking forward so much to it?’

She grinned. ‘I’m not a liar, unless it’s polite white lies. And even then I try to avoid them if I can. I’d find the trip interesting, I’m sure, but business is business. And you’re the boss so you get to make the decisions.’

They’d set off walking towards the
fale,
but he
stopped in the brief shade of the palms and demanded, ‘Is that how you think of me?’

When Taryn hesitated he said, ‘The truth, Taryn.’

‘Until yesterday,’ she said, hoping he couldn’t see that she was hedging.

‘Just that?’

She sent him a level glance. ‘Do you really want to know, or are you pushing me to prove that I always tell the truth?’

Emotion flashed for a moment in his gaze before his lashes came down. When they lifted again his gaze was steely and relentless. ‘Both.’

‘I don’t like being tested,’ Taryn said steadily and set off again, her emotions in turmoil. She didn’t know what he wanted from her, but she certainly wasn’t going to tell him that last night had changed her in some fundamental way.