by Kay Hooper
She moved through the deserted dining room and out to the terrace, where tables were placed for anyone who wanted to eat outside. All the tables were vacant now, and Kendall walked past them to lean against the railing absently.
Rick’s comments had shaken her oddly, particularly the last one. If he had seen how she felt, then who else had? Did Hawke know? She didn’t think so. At least, he couldn’t be sure how she felt. Just as she couldn’t be sure about his feelings.
Kendall stared blindly out toward the ocean, not seeing, now, the view she had admired so often. Vaguely, she wondered exactly what Hawke wanted from her. He wanted her to stay, she knew, but for how long? As mistress or wife? Was he still digging for those secrets he’d seen that first day … or had his determined digging uncovered them all?
He’d said once that he wanted to take care of her, to protect her from pain. To spoil her and bring her flowers and silly presents. To surround her with beauty and romance, and make sure that she never had nightmares.
From any other man, she would have considered that a declaration of love. But from Hawke, she wasn’t sure. Was it all just an elaborate game to him? A determined campaign launched because of some obscure reason? Sex? No … that couldn’t be it. Unless he wanted more than one night. Because he still wanted her to stay.
The romantic “courtship,” the gifts and whimsical conversation, all pointed to love. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he told her that he loved her? It just didn’t make sense. He had to know that she would be wary of committing herself without some assurance from him.
Or was that the reason? Did he want her to commit herself with no certainty of his feelings? God … what a chance she’d be taking! Gambling her life on the chance that he loved her, or could learn to love her. Making herself totally and completely vulnerable to him, and leaving herself wide open to possible heartache. And if he rejected her, or tired of her at some future date … it didn’t bear thinking of.
Because Kendall knew, with a sudden hollow certainty, that she would never love another man this way. Her father had once told her that her ancestors had been known for having only one great love in their lives. Curious, she had traced back several hundred years and found that, apparently, to be the truth. Husbands or wives had died, but there had been no second marriages. Not even for reasons common in the past: securing an heir, or a son to work the fields, or making an advantageous marriage to increase the family holdings.
And her own father had been devastated when his beloved Jenny had died. He would not remarry.
Loving was, almost by definition, taking a chance. On small things. Did he like sleeping with the window open while you froze to death? Could he bear the old movies you were addicted to? Could you bear his football games? Who would take out the garbage? Little things, generally worked out by compromise.
And then there were the big chances, the ones you had no control over. What if love died? What if he had a dangerous job, or loved racing dangerous ears as a hobby? What if you lost him?
Kendall began to realize then just how little she knew about human relationships. And about trust. In spite of her love for Hawke, she was afraid to trust him. With a single sneering word he could destroy her, and even though she didn’t believe him capable of such cruelty, the very possibility terrified her.
And what if the love she felt wasn’t love at all? On the heels of her decision to let go of her father, she had fallen in love. Or had she? Had she simply transferred her feelings from one to the other? No.
No. She loved Hawke, and she still loved her father. Two totally different kinds of love. But there was another fear eating at her.
What if her love made her cling too closely to him? She could lose herself, she could—No, stop it! she scolded the Cassandra voice in her head sharply.
Kendall was a strong woman, and she knew it. She was afraid of committing herself, just as anyone would fear the unknown. But, God knew, she had faced worse fears. She hadn’t exactly been thrilled about jumping out of that plane years before, but the alternative had been more frightening. And she could distinctly remember facing a man more than twice her size, with ugliness in his eyes. She’d fought—and won—because the alternative was unthinkable.
Was that courage? She didn’t know. At the time it had been simple survival. A choice of alternatives.
And what was her alternative now? She could love Hawke, taking the chance that he wouldn’t hurt her. Swallow her fear and her pride, and accept whatever he could give her, without asking for or expecting more. Or she could leave.
Before Kendall could consider what that would mean, she heard a step behind her on the terrace. And she knew who it was. Making her voice light, she asked, “Is Jean all smoothed down?”
“God, I hope so.” Hawke slid his arms around her waist from behind, drawing her back against him. He rubbed his chin lightly in her hair. “Ummm … you smell terrific.”
“Thank you.” She smiled slightly, still gazing out to sea. “It must be the herbal shampoo.”
He laughed softly, ruefully. “You have no romance in your soul.”
“I know. It’s sad, isn’t it?”
“Extremely. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”
“I’m undersized too. You could throw me back.”
His arms tightened, and Kendall could have sworn she felt tension creep into his lean frame. “Does that mean I’ve caught you?” he asked lightly.
She felt her heart begin to thud, and hoped he couldn’t feel it. Or hear it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she managed to say with mocking dignity. “I’m not a fish.”
He sighed softly. “There you go again. Just when I think I’ve got you backed into a corner, you always manage to slip away. Do you like playing games?”
“Do you?” The question was out before she could halt it, and Kendall bit her lip when he remained, silent for a moment. She felt one of his hands move away, and then he was quickly, deftly placing a necklace around her neck.
“Present for you.”
She looked down for a moment, then lifted the small medallion and stared at it. It was beautiful, delicate, made of fine gold, and obviously very old. A hawk in flight.
Quietly, she told him, “You shouldn’t keep giving me presents.”
“I haven’t given you a gift in days.” He sounded wounded. “It cut me to the quick too, but you were getting upset with me, so I stopped.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” Her voice was unusually meek—almost toneless.
“Kendall—”
Quickly, she said, “You have to go to the other hotel, don’t you? I—I think I’ll go for a walk on the beach.”
“Later.” Firmly, he grasped her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Lifting her chin with one hand, he stared down into the curiously blank turquoise eyes. His jaw tightened. “Dammit—you’re thinking about leaving me!”
She blinked. “Just a walk. I—”
His hand dropped back to her shoulder and he shook her slightly. “To hell with the walk! I won’t let you dodge the subject this time. Is that your answer to everything, Kendall? Running away?”
She had never seen him so angry, a muscle leaping violently in his jaw and the gray eyes blazing. And her own temper surged to the surface. “That’s not fair,” she declared tightly, pushing his hands away and stepping back.
“Isn’t it? All I have to do is hint at some kind of commitment, and you shy away like a scared rabbit!”
“Is that surprising?” She glared at him, feeling raw-nerved and oddly unlike herself. “You’re practically a stranger!”
His face hardened. “You can say that now? After last night? What did that mean to you, Kendall—just another game?”
“You started the games,” she accused him unevenly. “You’re the one who started playing at being a knight!”
“And it looks like I’ve been tilting at windmills, doesn’t it?” His voice was strangely harsh.
Kendall felt her an
ger drain away, leaving only confusion and uncertainty behind it. Almost whispering, she told him, “Storybook romance doesn’t belong in a real world.”
“Then where does it belong, Kendall?” His voice was still rough. “Between the covers of a child’s book? Is it something we outgrow and then push aside, saying, To hell with it? You tell me where it says that romance is wrong!”
She stared at him, wishing that she knew the right answers, wishing that he would take her to bed and make love to her until she forgot all the questions.
Hawke stepped closer, reaching out to cup her face with warm hands, his face softening abruptly as though he could see or sense her confusion. “Stay with me,” he said quietly, almost pleadingly. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you that romance does belong in a real world.”
Unsteadily, she told him, “Emotionally … I’ve only just stopped clinging to my father. And now you want me to turn right around and cling to you?”
“Kendall, it isn’t clinging!” His gray eyes moved restlessly over her face. “It’s sharing. Sharing laughter and love—and storybook romance, dammit!”
Her heart jumped at the word “love” and she swallowed hard. “It’s happening too fast … I can’t think. You don’t understand!”
“I understand,” he told her softly. “I understand that you’re afraid—and that’s normal. And I understand that you’re thinking of running away—and that’s not.”
Kendall backed away from him slowly, suddenly desperate to get away somewhere and think. She couldn’t think when he stared at her that way, with that strange intensity.
“Kendall?”
“I’m going for a walk,” she said almost inaudibly.
His face tightened again. “Just don’t run,” he grated out softly.
She very nearly did, turning quickly and hurrying down the steps and toward the path leading to the beach. He didn’t follow her. But then—she hadn’t expected him to.
She walked slowly up the beach, heading inland when she reached the cliffs and then wandering without realizing toward the village. Her thoughts were jumbled for a long time; nothing made sense to her.
Did Hawke love her? She thought that perhaps he did, but why hadn’t he said so? From deep inside her came a quiet little voice, offering a possible answer. Maybe he was afraid too. Oh, God—such a little word to tie grown people into knots!
Was he afraid of leaving himself completely vulnerable to her, just as she was afraid? Did he, too, wonder what would happen when the commitment was made and tomorrow opened its doors?
Questions. Endless questions. All boiling down to a final, inescapable one. One she had to face. One she had to answer. Did she love him enough to risk everything on that love?
If she left him and his island, she wouldn’t be alive anymore. Oh, she’d probably go on existing. Walking, talking, eating, maybe even laughing from time to time. But she wouldn’t be alive.
She thought of last night, and felt an intense pain at the possibility of never knowing that kind of sharing again. She couldn’t give that up. And she couldn’t give up the laughter and the teasing. She couldn’t give up … him.
Only a few days, a short span of time, and she was tied to him. He was the friend she had always wanted. The lover who had taken her on a journey to a wondrous, enchanted land. Where there were castles and crowns and unicorns. Where dreams were alive.
“I—need you,” She heard her voice saying words that had jarred her at the time, although she hadn’t known why. And then she heard his voice, whispering huskily, “I need you to be a part of me. ”
Kendall stopped walking suddenly, only half aware that she was on the sidewalk in the village.
And suddenly she had the answer. She needed him. It was that simple. She needed him to make her whole, complete. He was the half of herself she hadn’t known was missing.
And wasn’t that worth taking a chance on?
He could hurt her. He could, in fact, destroy her. But she would destroy herself if she didn’t take this chance. For the rest of her life what-might-have-been would eat at her like a cancer. Even supposing that she could turn and walk away from him … and Kendall knew that she couldn’t. It would be walking away from her very soul.
She thought of romance. Of a man who could unabashedly court a woman in a crowded lobby or on a deserted beach. And a woman who told that man foolishly that romance wasn’t real.
Kendall looked down at the lovely medallion, lifting it in fingers that weren’t steady. Gently, she turned it, watching the light reflect off it in a warm glow. And then the inscription on the back, tiny though it was, leapt out at her. It was a new inscription, she knew, the letters bright gold from a jeweler’s tool. And it was an old Arab proverb she recognized.
THERE ARE THREE THINGS THAT CAN NEVER BE HIDDEN! A MOUNTAIN, ONE RIDING A CAMEL, AND THE FACE OF A MAN IN LOVE.
She felt absurd tears start to her eyes. Oh, God—how stupid she was! The man had done everything but crawl to her on his knees, and she just wouldn’t let herself believe!
It wasn’t a game to him any more than it was to her. She was in love with an honest-to-God romantic man. And there was an almost delirious joy in that.
Kendall blinked at the surrounding scenery as she realized abruptly where she was. She started to turn toward the direction of the hotel, impatient, all at once, to run to Hawke and tell him how stupid she’d been. But then her eyes focused on the window display of the shop she was standing in front of.
In the center of the display was a necklace lying over a black velvet stand. It was obviously a man’s necklace. Intricately braided leather held a medallion unlike any she had ever seen before. It was carved from the finest milky opal, containing tiny points of pink and green in its depths. A delicate mythical creature, symbolizing innocence and purity. Her symbol. A unicorn.
Kendall stared at the beautiful creature for a moment, then looked down at the hawk in her hand. Her gaze rose again to the unicorn. Perfect. It would be perfect. If only…
Would the shopkeeper send the bill to the hotel? Of course he would! Today was her day.
Chapter 10
Kendall hurried through the glass doors, waving a distracted hello to Max and not giving him the time to open them for her. She slowed her pace once she was inside, her eyes searching the crowded lobby for Hawke. If only he hadn’t yet gone to the other hotel, or hadn’t had to go…. She didn’t want to waste another minute.
He was lounging against the side of the desk, talking casually to Rick, looking around when Rick saw her. Gray eyes unreadable, he watched her slow walk across the lobby.
Kendall halted about ten feet away and stared at him for a moment, then abruptly threw the unicorn necklace at him. He caught it easily, looked down at it for a moment, then straightened and casually placed it around his neck. Then he waited.
She was only dimly aware of the crowded lobby, some portion of her mind noting that the guests were all waiting, just as Hawke was, for the final chapter in this peculiar courtship. She wet her lips nervously and murmured, “If I have to wear your symbol, the least you can do is wear mine.” Still, he waited. “I—I love you,” she ventured hesitantly.
A muscle leapt in his lean jaw, and something flickered in the gray eyes; other than that, he gave no sign that her confession had moved him. “And now?” he asked gruffly.
Kendall’s mind flew back to the evening he had found her on the cliffs and she had talked briefly about her life. He had asked that question then, the same question she had asked herself as she wondered what she wanted to do with her life. She hadn’t been able to answer it then.
And her hell-bent sense of humor surfaced abruptly as she understood what he wanted to hear. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”
He nodded slowly, still watching her.
Kendall thought of the several things she’d like to do with him. Feed him to the sharks. Strangle him with the necklace. Stab him with one of his damned monogramed forks. I
mprison him in her bed.
The last one won out.
She squared her shoulders and met the unreadable gaze bravely. “Will you marry me?”
The tension she hadn’t noticed until then drained suddenly from his face, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. “Hell,” he grated, striding toward her, “I thought you’d never ask!”
And even through the haze of her own raging emotions, Kendall distinctly heard the crowd in the lobby heave a collective sigh of relief. Or was it envy?
She threw her arms around his neck as he reached her, raising a glowing face for his kiss. And Hawke met her lips with a fierce hunger and possessiveness. He swept her up into his arms and carried her to the elevator, apparently deciding that audiences were fine—up to a point.
Staring at Hawke’s face, Kendall vaguely heard Amanda Foster addressing someone in the lobby. “I’m so glad I decided to stay another week,” she was saying happily. “I just had to know how the romance turned out!”
Kendall giggled softly as Hawke stepped into the elevator, and asked him gravely, “Is the romance over?”
“Never,” he vowed softly, staring down at her face with burning silvery eyes. “It’s only just begun, darling.”
Kendall sighed happily and tightened her arms around his neck, impatient to get up to her room or his. Wherever. But she felt duty-bound to voice a protest. “What about the problems at the other hotel? Rick said—”
“I’ve already taken care of it. If anything else comes up, Rick can handle it.” He smiled at her slowly. “You and I have other plans.”
“Oh, really?” Kendall could hear the breathlessness in her voice. “What have you got in mind?”
The elevator doors opened, and Hawke began striding down the hall. “An entire day. Just the two of us, all alone in my room. We’ll lock the door, hang out the Do Not Disturb sign, and take the phone off the hook.”
“And then?” she asked innocently.
Hawke grinned, bending down to open the unlocked door of his suite and kicking it closed behind them. “Do you really have to ask—after last night?”
