by Maya Banks
“Yes, yes I am,” she said truthfully.
“At least you don’t lie about everything,” Ridge bit out.
She flinched and looked away.
“Look at me, damn it. You owe me that at least.”
Juan Miguel looked surprisingly calm, but then he likely recognized Ridge as the man she had arrived in Spain with.
“Senor,” he said to Robby who still sat astride his horse. “Come with me. I think it best if we camp on the perimeter. We can keep watch, no?”
India raised her brows in surprise. The Spaniard was leaving them alone. Why? Of course, Ridge’s scowl could have a lot to do with it.
She wrapped her arms protectively around herself as Robby and Juan Miguel disappeared into the darkness. She looked back at Ridge to see his eyes blazing at her.
“Nothing to say?” he taunted.
“I know you’re angry,” she said softly.
“You have no idea.”
“I think I do.”
“Why did you do it, India. Did I mean that little to you?”
She closed her eyes, tears seeping from beneath her lids. Nothing she could say could possibly make him understand. In his position, she wouldn’t understand or forgive either.
“Forget I said that. Let’s not make it personal. Lord knows you obviously didn’t return my sentiment. Let me ask this. Does your integrity mean so little? Does your word mean nothing? I thought you an honorable person, India, and yet you connived and lied from the very start.”
His words hit her like little poison darts. She turned her back but quickly turned back when she heard his hiss of anger.
“What was I supposed to do, Ridge? I won’t defend my actions. They are indefensible after all. But was I supposed to let my father die? Choose honor and integrity over a man’s life?”
Ridge leaned forward, his face inches from hers. He stabbed his chest with his finger for emphasis. “You could have trusted me.”
“I know that now,” she said softly. “I didn’t know it then.”
“Is anything at all true, India? Was it all a lie?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. She took a deep breath and decided to put it all on the line. Take a huge leap and pray he didn’t throw it back at her.
“I love you, Ridge.”
There. She had said it. The statement oozed fear, but then she was very afraid. She had just made herself more vulnerable, placed her heart in the hands of a man who for all practical purposes should loathe her.
He recoiled as if she had struck him.
“You have a damn funny way of showing it,” he growled.
She held her breath, but he didn’t respond further. He continued to glare at her, his anger radiating from him in waves. Her heart sank. Had she hoped he would forget his anger in the face of her declaration? Maybe she had. And maybe she was wrong.
She hugged herself a little tighter feeling the threads of desperation ever loosening. “Don’t you have anything to say?” she finally asked when the silence became too much for her to bear.
He ran a hand through his hair then yanked his hand down in disgust. Then he swore.
“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve. Is this your way of avoiding the issue? Of placing the focus elsewhere? You’ve toyed with me enough, India. Don’t start spouting sentiment you don’t mean.”
“I meant it,” she said quietly.
He stepped forward, grasping her shoulders painfully in his hands. “If you’re lying now, so help me, India...”
He didn’t complete the thought. Instead he yanked her to him and covered her mouth with his in a scorching kiss. He swallowed her gasp of surprise and deepened his kiss. At first his touch was angry, forceful, then it softened and she let out a small moan.
One hand tangled in her curls. The other ran the length of her back, touching, caressing, covering as much of her skin as he could.
She couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe for fear of ending such an exquisite kiss. He wasn’t holding anything back. Neither was she. Here in the shelter of him, she began to feel hope that maybe, just maybe he felt something for her beyond the pain of betrayal.
When he finally pulled away they were both breathing heavily. He looked at her, his eyes a kaleidoscope of emotion. Fear, anger, uncertainty...desire.
“Tell me again,” he said, only the tiniest of shakes evident in his voice.
“I love you.”
“Then why?” he demanded, his eyes pleading with her to make him understand. “Why put us both through this?”
“Can we sit down?” she asked, motioning toward the fire.
He gestured for her to precede him.
She sank down on the soft ground, cross-legged and stared into the fire. He sat down beside her. His hand cupped her jaw and he gently turned her until she was looking at him.
“If we’re going to talk, I want you to at least look at me.”
She turned slightly so she could better see him. She gripped her hands in her lap. They still shook, her nervousness clawing at her stomach, lapping at her muscles.
“That first day. When you came to ask me to translate the journal. I saw something startling. Something I didn’t know how to react to right away.”
He nodded. “I knew you were holding something back.”
“I didn’t want to become involved. That much was true. And I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t received a letter from my father.”
Ridge regarded her skeptically. “So your father really is alive?”
“His letter can explain it far better than I,” she said wearily.
She didn’t want to have to explain the whole drawn out affair. She dug into her bag that lay on the ground and drew out the rumpled letters she had received from her father. She opened them both then handed Ridge the first one.
He took it from her then angled it toward the fire so he could see the writing. After a moment, he pulled his spectacles from his coat trousers and put them on.
As he read, his brow furrowed. Then his eyes widened. And finally he put the letter down, disbelief shadowed in his face.
“You don’t believe it,” she said.
“Would you have me believe it?” he asked.
“The first day you showed me the journal, what I read in Sir Roderick’s handwriting is all that my father said in his letter.”
“So you duped me from the very beginning, pretending to help me all the while keeping me ignorant of the truth, using me and my money to further your ambition. Were you laughing the entire time?”
She curled her fingers into tight fists. So tight that she was sure the blood had left her hands. “I never laughed at you, Ridge. I hated what I had to do.”
“What you thought you had to do,” he corrected.
“I couldn’t leave my father for dead,” she protested. “He’s all I have left.”
“Not all, India. You could have had me.”
She stared at him in silence, not knowing what to say in response.
He sighed and thrust his hand in his hair, pulling it away from his forehead and leaving his fingers buried.
“I don’t know what to think.”
He looked at her again as if remembering something.
“What did the bracelet really say, India?”
She looked down, unable to meet his gaze.
“It said, Look to the north, to the great peaks of Orion. In the cradle of the moon lies the doorway. The way is broad that leads to destruction.”
He frowned. “So you made the other up?”
She shrugged. “It was necessary to make you believe the city was to the south.”
“Only I knew better.”
“How? How did you know?” she asked. “Robby said you thought north.”
He looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know how. I just did.”
“The images?” she asked softly. “Did they have anything to do with it?”
�
��The important thing isn’t whether or not I’ve been reincarnated,” he said sourly. “We’re talking about your lies.”
“I’m sorry.”
The words drifted heavily between them. Neither spoke once the words had been torn from her. He stared at her as if measuring her sincerity. For a brief moment, she saw hope flare in his expression, but he quickly masked it.
He looked away, massaging one hand with the other. “What do we do now, India?”
She wasn’t sure if he meant them or if he meant their journey but the safe bet was to address the journey. She wasn’t ready to give up hope for them.
“I must travel to the city. My father is there, or at least that’s what Juan Miguel has told me.”
“I’m going with you.”
She nodded, knowing she couldn’t keep him from it now.
His head snapped around as if something had suddenly occurred to him. “How does Juan Miguel know anything about your father?”
“I was supposed to meet him in San Sebastian. He is taking me to my father.”
Ridge swore. “I assumed he was someone you hired. I let Robby go off with him.” He stood up and hurried in the direction Robby had gone.
“Ridge,” she called after him, rising from her position at the fire.
He turned back to her.
“He’s not dangerous.”
He stared at her doubtfully. “I’m supposed to believe you?”
She flinched. Would everything she said be questioned henceforth?
“He’s a guardian,” she said by way of explanation.
Ridge walked back toward her, his jaw set. “And that means?”
India sighed again. This was too complicated. Became more complicated all the time.
“Remember the tattoo on the man in London?”
“How could I forget?”
“Well, Juan Miguel has one just like it. Once I got a good look at it, I recognized it as the Pagorian symbol for guardian.”
“I fail to see how that makes him a good guy,” Ridge said.
He came to a stop in front of her. “I am confounded by all you have kept from me. When I think how remarkably stupid I’ve been, it nauseates me. I expect such duplicity from Lucinda. But you...you were different. Or at least I thought so.”
He dropped his gaze and shook his head, turning to the fire.
She chose to remain silent. Perhaps after he had calmed she could reason with him. Make him see that she cared about him. No. She loved him.
Just as suddenly as the thought materialized, she tamped down the rising tide of hope. She whipped around, turning her back on Ridge.
She pinched her lips between her thumb and forefinger, doing a remarkable impression of a fish. Her head throbbed and her chest ached.
Maybe she was expecting too much from her declaration. Even if he could see past her deception, it didn’t mean he could return her feelings. And even if he did by some miracle actually forgive her and return her sentiment, it certainly didn’t guarantee her anything beyond a broken heart.
For that matter, she wasn’t sure she could provide what he needed or wanted.
Adventure. Excitement. Those were the things he craved. And the things she wanted nothing more to do with.
He was angry at her deception, but he was also angry because she had attempted to take away his first chance at the life he wanted.
“We should get some sleep,” Ridge muttered from behind her.
She nodded but said nothing.
“I’m going to see about Robby. I’ll return in a moment.”
She waited until she heard him walk away before turning back around. The fire had died to a mere glow. Instead of readying herself for bed, she began gathering sticks to throw on the embers.
In a few moments, she had the flames licking skyward and she backed away as her skin grew hot.
Did Ridge plan to sleep here or would he bed down with Robby? She fussed unnecessarily with the blanket she pulled from her saddlebag. Twice she spread it on the ground and pulled it back up.
Where was he?
Finally she settled for sitting in front of the fire and pulling the blanket around her shoulders.
A sound alerted her to Ridge’s return and she looked up to see him step into the light of the fire.
“Robby’s made friends with your Spaniard. They’re enjoying a bottle of port. We’ll sleep here.”
She bristled at his authoritative tone, but lowered her head. Nothing would be gained by sniping at him. And he had reason to be angry. She’d give him his time to brood tonight, but tomorrow she was back in charge.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ridge watched as India huddled by the fire. She stared pensively into the flames for several minutes, and then as if she couldn’t sit still any longer, she shifted and got to her feet.
“Good night,” she murmured as she walked a few steps from the fire and spread out her blanket.
He didn’t respond. He was still having a hard time speaking in anything but anger. There had been several times he could feel himself softening only for the rage to come swarming back.
So he sat, staring into the fire as it burned ever lower. He glanced over at the dim outline of India’s body, huddled under her blanket. He let out his breath in a long sigh then rubbed his eyes tiredly.
He and Robby had ridden hell bent for leather in an attempt to catch India. Robby hadn’t complained a bit, but Ridge worried he had overtaxed himself. When he’d checked in on him, Robby was settled comfortably on the ground, sharing a bottle of spirits with the Spaniard and exchanging ribald jests.
He should be there with Robby. Not here watching India sleep. But he was rife with indecision. This was an important matter. Perhaps the most important of his life. He couldn’t afford to make the wrong decision.
He stood and stretched his legs, stomping them as quietly as he could to regain the feeling in his feet. Turning his back to the fire, he walked a few steps away and turned his gaze to the sky.
The moon hung high overhead casting a pale glow over the campsite. And the stars. So many stars. Brilliantly cast across an ebony canvas. As if the hand of God had carelessly strewn them about on a whim.
His eyes blinked against a suspicious sting. Would he find no peace this night? His brother was dying, the woman he loved lay a breath away, and yet he stood here, locked in fear.
Was a life with India worth the risk of her deceiving him again? Or should he play it safe and turn away from her? There was something to be said for solitude. No pain. No choices. No love.
His gaze sought her out again, and his heart thumped harder. Would he have done the same in her place? He’d like to think he wouldn’t have, but now, in the face of Robby dying, he knew he would do anything to save his brother.
His mind eased in sudden understanding. India was loyal. Intensely so. And desperate to hold on to the only remaining family she had. And so she would cling to him and their children in their life together.
What more could he ask for in a mate? A woman he would spend the rest of his life with?
When he compared her situation to his current situation with Robby, her perfidy didn’t seem so damning. But a small part of him still wished she had trusted him enough to confide in him.
And maybe he hadn’t earned her trust yet.
His fingers flexed and curled as he sought to make sense of his conflicting emotions. She hadn’t reacted like he had expected. Somehow he had imagined her laughing coldly when he confronted her. Smug in her deception. He had entertained a host of scenarios as he had ridden after her. But none of them came close to the solemn, pain-filled expression she had worn as she told him she loved him.
“Were you telling the truth this time, India?” he whispered, his words carried away on the softest of breezes.
One thing was certain. He couldn’t walk away from her. He couldn’t let her go. He needed her. No one else in the world held the power to hu
rt him like she did, and yet, he was willing to place himself in her hands. And he had survived the worst already. Discovering she had lied to him had been an experience he didn’t want to repeat.
The only thing worse would be if she refused him. And it seemed to him that it was up to him to see that she didn’t.
A slow smile spread his lips upwards until one corner of his mouth twitched. He smoothed his chin with his hand and glanced over at India again.
This might be their only moment of privacy for days to come, their only chance to iron out their differences, and damned if he was going to waste it.
He strode back to the fire and over to where India lay. He knelt beside her and reached a hand to her shoulder.
“India,” he whispered. Then louder. “India, wake up.”
Her eyes flew open in alarm and he moved his hand to her cheek in an effort to calm her.
“What is it?” she asked in a voice that left no doubt that she had cried herself to sleep. Scratchy, vulnerable, husky.
Instead of replying, he bent down, tilting her head with his hand to meet his lips. As his hand stroked higher up her jaw, he was shocked to discover wetness.
His breath caught in his throat. “Don’t cry, India. It’s going to be all right now.”
She fed hungrily on his lips, and he pulled her closer until she rested against his chest.
“Say it again,” he murmured as he pulled away to look at her.
She didn’t hesitate. “I love you.”
“And I love you.”
Tears slipped faster down her cheeks.
His chest tightened and he smoothed the wet trails away with his thumb.
“Be very sure you want this...me, India. Be sure, because I’m not going to let you go.”
She raised a shaky finger and pressed it to his lips, a silent demand for him to cease talking.
“Love me, Ridge. Here, right now.”
As if anything could prevent him.
He cupped her jaw tenderly in his palm and kissed her, slowly, exploring her mouth with his.
“I want to see you,” he whispered.
He helped her pull her shirt over her head, and he sucked in his breath as the moonlight glistened off the peaks of her breasts. He cupped one in his hand, liking the weight. He thumbed a soft nipple, and she moaned.
