But she knew now why she had behaved so badly. Knowing she’d never give him the babies he craved had been what had sent her mad, then vicious with pain. Believing all those lies about him had been more bearable than facing her deficiency; running away had been better than waiting for him to discard her.
And now she knew he was the one man who most needed his own flesh-and-blood family, who would be the most magnificent father, it would have gutted her if he loved her back, only to find out what he’d be deprived of to be with her. She should be glad—she was glad—for him, that he couldn’t love her.
Knowing he didn’t and hadn’t loved her left out his nobility, his monumental compassion, to explain all he’d done for her. But even with the most benevolent of intentions, he must have sighed in relief the moment she’d walked out the door. He would again when she walked away this time.
As for why he hadn’t divorced her, she’d also figured that out. Now that he was wealthy and celebrated, besides being the most fantastic male on earth, he must be wading in women. What better way to ward off the vultures than with a married status? He must have kept her as his scarecrow wife.
She didn’t have cut and dried explanations for why he’d gotten involved with her again, none but the obvious, of course.
A long honk cut through her oppressive reverie and she found herself staring blankly at him. A gentle hand stopped her when she moved to get up.
He smoothed her bangs out of her eyes, picked up her hand, kissed it then placed a fork in it. “Eat your breakfast first, Jóia. We don’t have to jump off the boat the minute we dock.”
She put the fork down. “I’m really not hungry.”
She wondered at the coolness in her tones, the rock-steadiness. Must be the numbness of inescapable doom. The riverboat was already docking. This was it. The end.
The pressure to make it a quick one built, made her move the tray away, propelled her out of bed. “Sorry you went to the trouble for nothing.”
Roque watched Jewel getting dressed in silence, her last words echoing in his head.
Had she been telling him something? What her every nuance had been telling him since she’d regained her health after those harrowing days when he’d almost lost her, when he’d hung onto her with all his will and life…?
Deus, he couldn’t bear even the memories.
But that had been when her withdrawal had occurred. Up until the accident, her passion, so different from the past, so deep and giving, had still been at full blast. So much so he’d started to hope it wouldn’t fade this time. He’d also managed to harness his eagerness, giving her the space she needed for her emotions to take root, had started to think her continued desire meant he’d been succeeding.
He’d even made peace with her episodic remoteness, accepted it as part of her character. He really couldn’t expect her to be perpetually aware of him, transmitting and receiving. He’d succumbed to doubts, of course, woken up in a sweat with her in his arms, convinced she was gone, or would tell him she was going. He’d struggled to blot out those episodes.
Then had come her total withdrawal after her brush with death. But that was even more understandable. The last thing he expected now was vivaciousness and passion.
But that was logic talking. Insecurity whispered that with her frailty extinguishing her passion, the truth about her feelings had been uncovered. When her body didn’t respond to his, he ceased to exist for her.
But, no! Her passion hadn’t been just sexual. He may have believed that of her before, but not now. The woman he worshipped had such depth, such consideration, she wouldn’t have given him all that intimacy, all that fire, all that hope, if her emotions had been uninvolved. It wouldn’t have been so beautiful and overpowering without a powerful emotional ingredient on her side. And then there had been the companionship and laughter and dependence and appreciation.
But those were gone, insecurity lamented. And he had to listen. And burn in uncertainty. Had it been her accident? Those minutes when her breathing had stopped and her heart almost had? Had her emotions for him been in the most superficial part of her being, had they been the most fragile that they’d been the first part of her to die? And now couldn’t be resurrected?
He refused to believe that. What they had, had been, was real. And rare. Unique. She was just depleted. He’d wait, revive her, and her emotions. But to do that, he had to have her near. But how, now the expedition was over?
He knew how, had been putting off proposing it to the last minute of the expedition. Then the last ten days had happened and it felt like a replay of the past. And now he was loath to repeat it, to offer her something she might accept only out of a need for support.
But he couldn’t wait any more. He had to ask her to stay with him. He’d continue giving her space, as long as it took, take his cues from her while building up to asking her to share his life, be his wife again, and for real.
He walked behind her out of the cabin that had witnessed so much ecstasy and turmoil, headed down to the lower deck, his hands itching to grab her back, to tell her, ask her…
“Got a minute, boss?”
Berto. Inferno. This had to be about the charter plane he’d arranged to take them all back to Rio. In fuming impatience, he watched her walk ahead, turned to Berto, spilled all responsibility into his lap and turned around to Jewel, his heart tripping—and he didn’t find her!
His gaze jerked around, the irrational panic that had become ingrained in him of losing her, one way or another, turning to stupefaction.
She’d carried her bags, disembarked and was already halfway across the pier.
But she couldn’t walk away—not again.
His mind froze, but his body was on autopilot, running after her. She turned at his grab, looked at him with vacant eyes. Deus, that was far worse than when she’d walked away before. She’d had some life in her eyes then. Being subjected to her indifference demolished him.
Say something. Put in words what she knows she means to you. “Jewel, the past weekss”
She cut him off, her voice tranquil. “The past weeks were incredible, Roque. And they proved to me what a great thing I missed out on, walking out on you.”
Elation swelled in his heart. Until she went on, “I don’t have the words to thank you for everything—for saving my life, for the magnificent time together, professionally and personally. It was great to have an all-out affair and have it run its course, so that there will be no more wondering or wanting. Now that we have closure we can say goodbye with nothing but goodwill.”
He stared at her, expecting her to burst out laughing and say, Fooled you!
But she didn’t say it, continued in that rational tone, “I’m OK with remaining married indefinitely. A man like you must be beset with vultures and a paper wife is the best deterrent. It’s the least I can do for you.” She suddenly reached up and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, Roque. Be happy.”
Then she turned and walked away.
He remained paralyzed, staring after her as she reached one of the cabs waiting to take tourists into Manaus along its single highway. He stood there until the cab had disappeared.
And she was gone. Again. For good this time.
Jewel. Gone. For good.
And he wondered. Why hadn’t his heart stopped?
So he could live with it? He couldn’t. Deus, was that it? He’d been wrong—so wrong—again?
And again he’d done it to himself. He’d put himself in her path, given her every opportunity to pulverize him, then walk away.
But in the past he’d had the motivation to build himself, his vocation, and the uncertainty about her and his emotions for her, to keep him going.
He had none of that now.
This time, all was lost.
He was.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE eyes that looked back at Roque were a stranger’s.
He’d almost forgotten how he looked, hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror, not even when he�
�d shaved, which he probably hadn’t, for the past month since Jewel had walked away.
For the first week, duties had swamped him, running interference with his agony. Then he’d rounded up the mission’s results and damages and had really started to suffer—and think.
He couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept what she’d told him. She’d almost died, again, and had to be traumatized. She shouldn’t be on her own now. He must be with her, and if later, when she was fully healed, she still felt the same way, he’d deal with that when—if—it came to pass. First he had to find her.
But he couldn’t. She’d disappeared.
For the past few weeks he’d torn through Rio, hired private investigators, scoured the whole country—airports, hospitals, hotels, rented residences—everything and everywhere. And nothing. Then, half an hour ago, he’d gotten his first lead.
A woman who owned a bakery downtown had reported seeing Jewel, but wouldn’t give more information until she was satisfied Jewel’s husband wasn’t some goon.
That had forced him to stop long enough to shave. He had to try to look human again so he wouldn’t scare that woman, make her think Jewel was better off not being found by him.
He slicked his shower-wet hair back, grabbed his jacket and ran to the door. He snatched it open and—and…
Right there on his doorstep—Jewel.
Everything about her hit him, all at once, like an avalanche, burying him, driving him to his knees in his mind. She seemed smaller, thinner, felt younger, frailer. Her hair was a blaze of luxuriant color and gloss in his dim entrance light, her eyes housing the spirit that bound his soul—and her face, the face of his every reason. It was no longer bruised, the scars less than he’d thought they would be. And she was wearing brown—but she never wore brown.
Deus—was he imagining her?
“Hello, Roque.”
The soft, rich melody that had echoed in his memory, her voice, her presence—her. She was really here.
Pressure built behind his eyes, a jagged rock filled his throat, shredded his voice around her name. “Jewel…”
“I—I heard you were looking for me.” Her eyes probed him, wary. Expecting he would deny it?
The upheavals, the dread, the love and loneliness and longing—it all crashed on him. He stood there, paralyzed, mute.
She nodded, exhaled a tremulous murmur, “This must be old news, thens” Her words choked as she jerked around, hurried away.
He captured her, his trembling hands sinking in her reality, fixing her face for his eyes to beseech his questions. Are you here for me? Are you still mine?
And her eyes gushed her response.
He had no idea when he’d carried her to bed, how they’d become flesh to flesh. The first thing he registered was the moment he sank into her, went home, when she absorbed him into her flesh, wept for him, inside and out, and it all merged into a dream sequence. Jewel and him and union. Safety and certainty and ecstasy. Time stretched and senses bent and shattered to the gasping rhythm of abandon and the savage sanctuary of release.
Reborn, invincible with his most vital part restored and still cushioning him, anchoring his existence, he rose above her, disbelief still streaking in his system.
She was here. Here. His again. At least, this way. For now.
He’d take all the for nows he could. He’d put them together and make a for ever.
Her eyes were shimmering as her lips moved. He caught them, only realized when he’d drained them again that he’d swallowed something she’d said with her sweetness. He retrieved the thick words, replayed them.
She’d whispered, “I need to know. That’s why I came back.”
The statement sank into his mind like a depth mine. Then its import hit bottom. He wasn’t the reason she’d come back?
“Know what?” he rasped.
“Why, Roque?” Her face was stained with a poignancy so sharp it cleaved into him. “Why? Why everything? Why did you marry me? Why did you pursue me during the expedition, only to keep me away? And after you had me, why did you step away again, only to come even closer after the accident? Why did you look for me after the expedition? Why did you just make love to me?”
Why ask? When she must know? She needed his total surrender in words? Then give it to her.
He did, pledged it. “Because I love you, always have, always will, only you—only ever you.”
Her whole body jerked, then went nerveless beneath him. He lurched up and off her, ended up kneeling, watching her crumple under the onslaught of terrible emotions he couldn’t begin to guess at.
“Jewels” he pleaded.
Her whisper stifled his plea. “If you think I want to hear this, you’re wrong—wrong. I don’t. All I want is to be with you, for a while longer…”
“Por Deus! What are you trying to do to me? You’re back, only to tell me I’m only good enough for a longer ‘affair'?”
“An affair is all I can give you.” She shot him a weird, hectic smile. “It can be as long as you like—until you find the one you can love, would want to spend your life with…”
Would his head burst with it all? “You’re the only one I can love—can spend my life with.” Misery corroded him when horror filled her eyes as his confessions sank in. She finally sobbed, “You c-can’t mean thats!” “I see you’d rather I’d told you I’d infected you with a terminal disease.” It was either resort to sarcasm or weep.
“B-but th-the only reason I came back, the only reason I let us be together again, was knowing y-you don’t love mes” “You must want to drive me insane! Or are you mad? You only want to be with me if I don’t love you? If I’m so beneath you that you can’t bear the thought of my love…”
Her cry cut his tirade off. “How can you love me? No one has ever loved me, starting with my parents, even before I got messed up. Don’t you see my scars? Didn’t you see them back then? Is your pity so strong? Or does it somehow turn you on?”
He reeled under the brunt of her words, jerked when her hand convulsed on his arm. “Just say you’re punishing me. I deserve it, for all the horrible things I once said to you.”
She thought—She felt—Deus! All those doubts, those feelings of worthlessness, hidden, festering inside her.
Those people who’d plagued her early life had far more to answer for than he’d ever thought. The bastards had scarred her.
Yet they hadn’t destroyed her. She’d surmounted her inner and outer scars and remade herself, become a magnificent human being and a force for good, the center of his existence.
But did what she’d just said mean she thought she was unworthy of his love and not the other way around? Was that why she’d believed he’d had ulterior motives in marrying her?
Of all the irony. She thought she couldn’t inspire abiding emotions in him when that had always been his fear, his agony.
But after all they’d been through, after all the love he’d shown her, what more could he say that she wouldn’t warp to reinforce her insecurity and drive her away?
He could think of nothing to say. Nothing, but everything.
He reached for her limp hand, prayed his confessions would heal her, let him into her trust and into her heart. He would convince her, even if it took the rest of his life.
Jewel watched words crowding on Roque’s face and her world came to a grinding halt. He was about to tell her the truth.
Please, let it be anything but a reiteration of his love declaration.
“You were eighteen when I first saw you.” His voice was a bass, bone-permeating caress, the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. “It was just a few months after I arrived in the States and you were with your father at the opening of a wing in the hospital. You were the most breathtaking sight I’d ever seen.”
She closed her eyes, trying and failing to hold back tears. He brushed them away, coaxed her eyes open. “I inched my way behind you and your every gesture and word appealed to everything in me. I followed you from then on, kept fal
ling deeper for you. I longed to approach you, but I had to be realistic. You were too young. And I had so much to prove before I could dream of you. Then Michael started destroying my chances while at the same time pursuing you. The day you got engaged to him was agony. Then I discovered Michael was cheating on you, regularly, and I had to intervene. Then you had your accident. Deus, Jewel, I can never describe the horror I felt for you.”
“So it was pity.” The resigned conclusion escaped her. His eyes were filled only with overwhelming compassion. So now she knew.
She found she could move even with her heart ruptured. She had to leave, disappear, for ever this time. But his arms caught her in a tight embrace and she couldn’t bear it.
She cried out. “Just stop. I have nothing to be pitied for, not even then. You were wrong to pity me, so just stop, please, stop.”
He stemmed her indignant protest in a hard kiss, then caught her face in both hands, forced her to look at him. “It was a pity to see how right I was about those people supposedly close to you. It shredded me to see you so undeservedly hurt, in so many ways. What I felt was rage against those who hurt you far more than the hit-and-run driver did, and overpowering compassion for your pain. And passion. I desired you even more the more I watched your heroic efforts to get back on your feet unaided. I tried to stand by you, but you shunned me, out of misplaced loyalty to Michael. Then you set a wedding date and I couldn’t wait any more. I had to claim you for myself…”
She’d been listening in stunned awe—until his last sentences, and she couldn’t bear not putting him straight.
“I shunned you,” she gasped, “because I couldn’t bear for you to see me after the accident. I set a wedding date because I was feeling guilty over wanting you, because I thought you immoral for disregarding my engagement and pursuing me, thought Michael deserved better, especially since he didn’t abandon me like everyone else did. But I couldn’t go through with it, went to tell him I couldn’t marry him when I felt this way about you, and I found him in bed with another woman. He’d been using me as a bridge to my parents all along. It was a relief to find it out. I walked out and straight into your arms.”
One Night In Collection Page 97
