by Anne Ashby
Zoe gasped at the pain in his voice and almost tripped when he threw her away from him and ran across the field. Without giving herself time to consider her actions, she streaked after him, catching up with him as he labored under the trees on the far side of the domain.
“Connor, you’re wrong.” She grabbed his arm and wouldn’t let go, despite his attempt to shake her off. “Stop and listen to me.” She planted herself in front of him and stayed there, dodging this way and that as he tried to push past her. “Please, Connor, listen.”
Her shoulders slumped as he stilled. Guessing he wouldn’t listen for long, she burst into speech. “Connor, your scars are horrific, terrible. I agree.”
His eyes flared with what looked like hatred.
“But only because of how you came by them. They don’t change the man you are. Seeing them did nothing but make me feel sad. They didn’t change how I feel about you.” Zoe swallowed hard; horrified she’d almost given herself away.
She hastily revised the thoughts running through her head that she couldn’t voice. “You’re a great bloke, Connor. I wish I was like you…so confident and sure of yourself and where you’re going.”
Her grip on his arms loosened and she couldn’t resist running her fingers up and down his forearms. “Is that why you didn’t call me? Because of your thoughts on my reaction to your scars?”
The tension drained from Connor’s body and his head jerked stiffly.
“What a dork.” She smiled through watery eyes.
“I guess that’s an improvement over being a prig.”
“A great improvement.” Zoe looked around. “Connor, could we just sit down here and talk for a little while? Please?”
His expression was wary but he nodded and sank onto the grass. They sat in silence for some time before Zoe managed to raise the subject which had to be discussed.
“Connor, that day, on the beach…” Heat rushed into her cheeks and she couldn’t meet his gaze.
Taking another deep breath she made herself look at him, praying he would believe her. “It wasn’t your scars that”—she covered her burning face with her hands—“made me… Connor, we’re cousins, blood relatives. It was wrong.”
Connor’s slumped body jerked, as if a puppet master had pulled some controlling cord.
His intense look unsettled her planned speech. She held his gaze, but the abrupt change in his mood baffled her. Unnerved by his odd look she shifted restlessly.
“How much research have you done into the family so far?”
“What?” Zoe stared, her mouth dropping open.
“Your family research, how much have you done?” His lips twitched. “It’s a simple enough question.”
“Not much, I guess. I’ve been trying to get as many hours of work as possible, and with Bess going off on holiday—I’ve concentrated on sorting out all the living relatives to start with—marriages, births, places of birth, that sort of thing.” She frowned, remembering his objection to genealogy.
“What about birth certificates? Don’t genealogists collect them?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, “but they’re expensive. There’s no real need to buy them unless you need the information off them. Bess gave me so many details, so I haven’t needed any. When we go further back to find our ancestors, we’re more likely to need to check certificates then.”
Distracted by the light in his eyes, and needing to clear up their misunderstanding, Zoe crossed her arms and demanded, “Why all these questions about research, Connor? You don’t even approve of genealogy.”
“I don’t. At least, I didn’t,” he hedged. “Maybe there’s something in it, after all.”
“I don’t understand you, Connor,” Zoe spluttered. “What has genealogy got to do with what we were talking about?”
He lay down on the grass, gazing up at the clouds tripping across the sky. “I just wondered how much you’d dug up about me.”
Had he guessed she’d avoided checking on any of his details? Bess had them all, anyway. There hadn’t been any need to check their authenticity. “I hadn’t got around to checking anything about you,” she snapped. “I was more interested in your father and uncles.”
Connor’s response, a quiet murmur, frustrated Zoe. What’s he on about? She glared as he clasped his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. She waited for him to speak again.
And waited.
He can’t be asleep. Tempted to dig him in the ribs or smack him over the head, Zoe struggled to restrain herself. Dragging fingers through her hair she shot him an angry stare, which of course bounced right off him.
Some moments later, after she’d managed to calm her agitated breathing, Zoe welcomed the peaceful mood settling over her. Connor wasn’t angry with her.
She couldn’t fathom his sudden interest in their genealogy, but he wasn’t gnashing his teeth anymore. She sat watching him, resisting the urge to touch him.
Zoe lay on her side next to him, her head propped up by one arm. He’s such a good-looking bloke. He’d have no trouble finding someone to settle down with. And the sooner, the better.
She needed some help to exclude him from her thoughts. Knowing he was her cousin hadn’t stopped her falling for him. Perhaps his marrying someone else would force her to extinguish these cravings—for his company, his touch—from her mind.
She sure hoped so, ’cause feeling this way whenever he was close had to stop.
****
When Connor had calmed the excitement roaring around inside him, he opened his eyes, only to find Zoe slumped beside him fast asleep.
Able to look at her without constraint, Connor’s pulse quickened as his gaze roamed across her face, down her body and then back up. His hand reached out to touch the dark marks under her eyes, but he stopped just short of making contact.
He mustn’t jump to conclusions that might prove untrue, but when he’d accepted Zoe’s version of what happened on the beach that day, he’d also acknowledged the beginnings of a dream.
Connor sat up and encircled his knees with his arms.
Zoe has no idea I’m not Warren’s biological son. Hell, I’m not even Warren’s adopted son.
He plucked some grass and threw it up in the air to idly watch it return to earth. If she’d taken the time to check she’d have found his name change when he was eighteen, when he’d finally thwarted his father’s continuing refusal to allow Warren and Maria to adopt him.
Becoming Connor Matthews had been the most wonderful day of his life. He grinned as he remembered the celebration they’d had on the day he shed his past forever.
After being so enraged with Zoe’s interest of digging around in the past, now he wished she’d done just that. If she’d known we weren’t related, would that little beach scene have ended differently?
Connor’s body stirred into life as he imagined what could have happened. Would she have melted into my arms again when we entered the house? Would we have ripped off our wet clothes and sunk onto my bed?
He shook his head to dispel the image. Hell, if she wakes up now and catches sight of me.
He eased the tightness of his shorts over the bulge and forced himself to imagine how the Black Caps cricket team would do in their one-day match against Australia in a few days. Anything to allow his body to relax before she opened her eyes.
“How did you get those scars, Connor?”
Connor started. Zoe had made no sound warning him she was awake.
Her gaze was on him as he stared across the field, uncertain if he could respond.
“Was it a car accident or something?”
The gentleness in her soft voice warned Connor she suspected the truth. Well partly the truth. A lump rose in his throat. Dare I tell her?
His head shook as if by its own volition.
She sat up beside him, dribbling a light touch of fingers across his arm, but she asked no more.
“My father did it.” The words escaped through clenched teeth.
Zoe’s ho
rrified “Warren?” swung Connor to look at her and see the blanching of her face.
Her distress forced words to pour out of his mouth. “Warren’s not my father. He found me hiding in the attic of his church when I was eight. I got to come live with them when I was ten.”
Her fingers tightened on his arm and shocked astonishment reflected in her widened eyes, but still she asked no questions.
“He’d have killed me—my biological father.” He studied his clenched fingers. “Warren saved my life.”
Connor tried unsuccessfully to clear the lump blocking his throat. A shaking hand touched the back of his shoulder. “That was the last. He threw a pot of boiling porridge over me.”
His voice choked again as memories he’d buried so deeply returned. “He told the cops it was an accident, that I’d run off and he couldn’t apply first aid. But Warren made them believe me. He wouldn’t let them send me back.”
Zoe’s arms were a sanctuary as they enclosed him.
Aware he was shaking, he tried to control himself, but her whispered murmurs and the strength of her embrace allowed some of the horror to slowly dissipate until he lay exhausted, his head pressed against her breast.
“Your mother?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe he killed her, and my little sister. I don’t know. One day they just weren’t there anymore.”
He lifted his head but she refused to loosen her arms. “Maybe she just left me with him when she took off. I never knew what happened to them.”
“Did you try to find them later, when you’d grown up?”
Connor wrenched away from her. “Why? If she was still alive, that meant she’d left me with him. She knew what he was like, I remember him slapping her about. If she was dead…” He shrugged. Finding his birth mother wasn’t something he’d allowed himself to think about much.
Maria was his mother; he hadn’t needed anyone else once he’d begun living with them.
“Oh, Connor, I’m so very sorry.” Connor’s throat clogged up again as tears filled her eyes. “And I’m sorry for all the times I made fun of you. It was unforgivable of me.”
They sat in silence for a long time, unified and yet separated by their deep thoughts.
Connor finally thrust the pain of those memories back where they belonged, behind the defensive wall he’d built years ago. He scrubbed his shaking hands across his face, hardly believing he’d told Zoe. Hell, he’d never told anyone.
The family knew, but only because they’d been privy to what happened during those last two years under his father’s care. He’d never told anyone anything about his childhood. But now he’d started, would he be able to avoid sharing all those memories? He hoped so, sharing would be too painful to endure.
“Let’s go back.” Standing up, he scrubbed a hand across his face again before holding out a hand to help Zoe to her feet.
“Are you okay?”
They ambled toward the footpath. Connor nodded, surprised how quickly the horror had disappeared and something else had replaced it. Warmth, that had nothing to do with the blazing sun and everything to do with the girl at his side, surrounded him. “I’m glad we’ve talked.”
Zoe’s face flushed as she met his eyes. “I’m sorry I never let Gran tell you the truth about me straight away.” A little grin came and went. “We gave you some hairy moments, didn’t we?”
Feeling his own lips twitch, Connor replied. “A few. I was sure you were setting her up to rip off. I told Dad and David I’d have you out in a week.”
Zoe bristled. “Did you indeed?” Her face creased in a huge smile. “So what was their reaction when you couldn’t get rid of me?”
“Oh, I didn’t let on, I kept telling them I had you all sussed.”
“And they believed you?” Her eyebrows shot up.
“Of course.”
Zoe’s burst of laughter couldn’t be ignored, and Connor chuckled.
Looking back, they’d had a couple of good tussles, and some good times too. He’d enjoyed talking to her. She could listen, didn’t want to be interrupting all the time, or expect to talk about herself. In fact, when he recalled their friendlier conversations, he couldn’t remember her sharing much of herself at all. Something he intended rectifying.
He stopped, staying her with his hand. “Can I ask you something now?”
Zoe’s smile faltered a little, and her gaze slid away from him, but then she lifted her chin and nodded stiffly.
Connor chewed over what to ask. He wanted to know about these men in her life, and figured she’d be honest. But she’d balked when he’d asked about Rangi before. How would she react to the mention of his name now? Connor didn’t want to destroy the relaxed camaraderie in place between them at the moment.
“Tell me about John.”
Connor frowned at her soft sigh of relief.
“John lives in Belmont. He’s a quadriplegic.” She was watching out the corner of her eye for his reaction as they recommenced their walk.
He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the smile as he recalled her taunt about sleeping with him.
“I’ve worked with him for two years now, usually just twice a week, but the hours are flexible. I can take time off during exams, and take extra shifts other times.”
“Like over your semester breaks?”
Zoe nodded. “It’s great money for what I do. I still get about six hours sleep so I can keep my day job, too.”
“You need to turn him, what, once or twice during the night?”
“Once. I get his supper, chew the fat with him if he wants, and then help him to bed, and that’s it. The morning shift gets him up and dressed.”
“And you pretend you’re sleeping with him if anyone gets too nosey?”
Zoe smiled across at him. “Hmm,” she considered, “I think I’ve only done that once.” Her huge eyes tugged at his ability to keep his hands to himself. “After all, it is the truth.”
Connor couldn’t contain his chuckle. Glancing across at her, he was pleased to see a teasing light in her eyes.
Still keen to understand where this Rangi fitted into her life, Connor decided to wait for another time before bringing up his name. Instead they continued chatting about inconsequential things until they neared Warren’s gate, where Zoe suddenly stumbled, and almost fell.
“Are you okay?” His hand shot out to steady her. “Have you hurt your ankle, or something?” He peered down to diagnose what had happened.
Zoe shook her head and tugged away from his hand. There was a faint hint of hysteria in her voice when she spoke, her voice whispery thin. “You’re not Uncle Warren’s son?”
He shook his head, a little smile twitching at his lips.
“Not even his adopted son?”
“Not even his adopted son.”
“Oh.”
He loved the way she blushed.
“Yes. ‘Oh,’” Connor repeated before leaning over and kissing her firmly on the lips. He left her standing at the gate, a stupefied look on her face, as he strolled down the pathway, whistling.
Chapter Ten
Zoe was used to odd sensations in her stomach, they’d been a barometer signaling change almost all of her life. But this feeling was different. She hugged herself tightly, almost frightened to acknowledge these crazy feelings churning around inside her were nothing like before, because then she’d have to consider exactly what they meant.
These are nothing like the pains from before. These were even scarier.
To catch Connor’s eye and see that secret little smile on his face caused her breath to stop in her throat as her stomach lurched.
There was something special brewing between them, Zoe hoped. Since their conversation beside the rugby paddock, and that kiss, Zoe’s nerves were a mess.
Unable to be alone with him, with family clamoring to be with her all her waking hours, she had to be content with sharing secret looks that made her toes curl. Too shy to single him out in front of the others, she hoped he
would find an excuse so they might be alone for just a little while, but he never did. His apparent willingness to sit back and watch her interact with her new family, soon fuelled doubts she’d misread his interest.
She’d yearned for the closeness of family for so long, but now there was something else, equally important, and she yearned for some sign from him. But for now she’d just have to savor the love her family showered her with. And hope.
Meeting Connor in the hallway during an early evening barbeque allowed for a stolen moment. The hunger in Connor’s eyes and the urgency of his touch as, after a quick glance both ways along the hall, he drew her into an empty bedroom, restored some of Zoe’s shattered confidence.
Without a word, Zoe found herself sandwiched between the wall and Connor’s hard body. She could feel his uneven breathing on her cheek before his lips crushed hers, hard and searching, demanding a response she couldn’t deny.
Her mouth opened under his, her tongue searching and fencing with his as her fingers slid through his hair, capturing him. Her knees weakened as the sensation in the pit of her stomach intensified beyond anything she’d experienced before.
As his lips left hers to sear a path across her cheek, along her jaw line and down the side of her neck, she shivered. Clutching at him, she wanted to cover him with kisses, overcome now with the burning desire consuming her. She knew nothing but the overwhelming need for the sensations running through her body never to stop.
Her fingers were shaking as they slipped down from his hair to try to dislodge the shirt buttoned high up his neck.
“Shh.” He stilled her fingers even as he ground his hips against her, leaving her without doubt his reaction was as urgent as her own.
His lips returned to hers, their fire sending pulses of pure ecstasy spiraling throughout her body.
“Con, bring me a drink too, will you, son?”
The loud voice penetrated as Connor’s father was sitting on the deck just to the side of the open bedroom window.
“If I don’t get back out there, he’ll send one of the kids in.”
Connor leaned his forehead against hers, the desire in his eyes slowly receding as they both regained control of their ragged breathing.
