One Night in the Orient (13 page)

He picked up her pack and gave her a coolly speculative smile. “Come on, we’ll make up a bed for you. You look as though you’ve been through a wringer, and I could do with a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep myself.”

As a rejection it was tactful, but very clear. And it hurt. Love shouldn’t hurt, she thought sombrely.

The sooner she was out of here the better, but a sluggish inertia silenced her. Tomorrow, she promised herself—tomorrow she’d be able to deal with everything. Right then she craved sleep.

Although Nick no longer spent much time in New
Zealand, his house had none of the forlorn air of a place without inhabitants. A faint scent of lavender polish permeated the air, and on the hall table a large vase was radiant with summer flowers—roses, lushly opulent peonies from the South Island, and long scented stems of mock orange blossom, skilfully arranged.

Rallying her chaotic thoughts into order, she flicked an upward glance and looked away again, hardly giving herself time to appreciate the arrogantly sculpted features that matched the aura of power Nick radiated.

Fair-haired and blue-eyed, Adrian was conventionally handsome, but Nick’s bold face and lithe strength were supported and enhanced by an effortless presence that marked him out from other men. One glance was all it took to make his rapid rise entirely credible.

At nineteen, armed with courage, tenacity and complete confidence in his own ability, he’d parlayed a brilliant idea into a huge internet success. Since then he’d gone from strength to strength, yet he’d never been seduced by either fame or fortune.

“You can sleep in here,” he said, opening a door. “I’ll get sheets and towels.”

He put the pack down on a chair and went out. Siena looked around the room, barely taking in its quiet, sophisticated charm. Struggling to control a bewildering jumble of emotions, she took refuge in action, pulling the covers from the bed.

Only a few more minutes, she promised herself.
Hold on for a few more minutes—and then you can let go.

She seemed to have said that more than a few times recently.

When Nick came back she said, “Thanks. I can do this now.”

“I’ll help you.”

She said unevenly, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

He dumped the sheets on the bed and straightened. “Siena, look at me.”

The last time he’d said that …
No,
she wasn’t going to let memories of their lovemaking overwhelm her. Shivers scudded the length of her spine, but she met his probing green scrutiny without flinching.

“All right,” he said eventually. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

Siena watched him leave, waiting until the door had closed firmly before wandering across the room. Coming to a halt in front of the dressing table, she peered at her reflection in the mirror with dull eyes.

How could a few days create such turmoil in her life, turning it completely upside down, forcing her to reassess everything she’d done over the past few years?

She hadn’t loved Adrian, not as he should be loved. Not as Gemma so clearly did.

They’d been good friends before they’d become engaged, and she’d valued him for his honesty and his strength of character. She’d been happy when he’d proposed. Oh, she’d known it wasn’t the sort of fantasy love she’d read about in books, all trumpet calls and romantic music and soaring to the stars, but she’d not been looking for that.

And now she understood why.

Her mouth twisted into a small, bitter smile. Adrian had been a safe refuge, because long before she’d met him her heart had been given to Nick. It had escaped her control and surrendered to a man who’d never want it.

She turned away and made the bed, then went
through her nightly routine, but the sleep she so ardently wooed refused to come. After hearing a distant clock chime midnight she got up and pulled a light T-shirt and her jeans on over her pyjamas. If she didn’t walk off the thoughts that continually forced themselves on her she’d go mad.

No such luck, she thought dismally as she slipped out of the door onto the terrace outside. Anyway, going mad wouldn’t help. Somehow, no matter how difficult it was, she’d have to find a way of dealing with her forlorn love.

But right now she needed fresh air.

She stood a moment, squinting until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Unseen except for the glow in the sky to the west, the city slept in silence.

Siena dragged in a deep, deep breath. Exquisite, exotic perfume drifted on the warm air from the huge white-velvet trumpet of datura hanging beneath an umbrella of large leaves, and the full moon turned the harbour into silver and black silk beneath the Milky Way, a girdle of diamonds across the indigo velvet sky. When she turned her head she saw the Southern Cross, a glittering pendant pointing southwards.

Yet the peace she longed for evaded her. Making up her mind, she walked towards the cliff edge. Somewhere beneath the huge old trees a flight of steps led down to a small cove of white sand. She’d like to run for miles, run herself into exhaustion, but a walk along the little beach to the sleepy sibilance of the wavelets might help calm the turbulence of her mind.

At the top of the cliff a small summerhouse had been built for Nick’s mother, carefully positioned to catch the summer dawn through the huge boughs of a sprawling
sentinel pohutukawa. Darkly shaded, both tree and summerhouse looked almost sinister now. Telling herself not to be foolish, Siena stopped at the top of the flight of steps to peer down. As she’d guessed, the moon showed each level with perfect clarity and, just to make sure no one fell, a handrail bordered the steps on the seaward side.

Without warning, she was grabbed from behind and hauled backwards. Wide-eyed and terrified, she opened her mouth but her scream was cut short by a hard hand. She struggled wildly in an unrelenting grip, shocked by the ruthless strength of the man who’d overpowered her.

“Stop it, Siena.” Nick’s hard voice came like a shower of cold water.

Her terror was transformed into fury and relief. She went rigid, whispering against his palm, “Let me go,” and sagged back against him when he dragged her back from the edge of the cliff.

But he still didn’t let her go. Panting, she twisted futilely in his grip until he dropped the hand across her mouth and turned her.

She closed her eyes, then forced them open again, still unable to believe what had happened. Glaring up into his face, its strong framework emphasised by moonlight, she demanded hoarsely, “What on earth are you doing?”

Nick loosened his grip further. Relief surged through her—closely followed by a lick of heat that sent another shockwave along her nerves.

Siena fought back the impulse to taste the indefinable sexy flavour lingering on her lips. It fired her senses and sent another unstoppable shiver through her.

Mind whirling, she tried to step away. For a terrifying heartbeat she’d thought she was being attacked—and she was, but the assault came from within, a heady response that refused to be ignored.

Nick had only to touch her and she wanted him.

It took a massive effort of will to control the sensuous effect his clean male taste was still wreaking on her body and brain. Her chest expanded, dragging air into her famished lungs.

Instantly his mouth covered hers, stopping any words with a kiss that sent her blood rocketing through her body and banished every thought from her brain in a flood of shameless pleasure.

It was over too soon.

No, too late.

Too late because when he lifted his mouth she ached with emptiness. Slowly she raised heavy eyelids, peeping through lashes that had somehow drifted down while he was kissing her. It seemed to take ages for her star-dazzled eyes to adjust enough to make out the strongly marked features and the angular line of his jaw, the sensual curve of his mouth.

Heat from that intoxicating hunger still lingered in every cell, transforming her from a woman in command of her life to an astonished, witless stranger.

“What the hell were you doing?” Nick demanded beneath his breath.

She dragged in a sudden sharp breath. “I needed some fresh air. I was going down to the beach.”

He seemed to relax, but his eyes never left her face while he said harshly, “From where I stood it looked as though you’d chosen the quick way to get down there.”

When she stared at him in bewilderment, he added, “By throwing yourself over.”

“No!”

Swallowing, she tore her gaze away from Nick’s eyes, darkly unreadable in the bold contours of his face.

His arms around her tightened, forcing her against his lean, powerful body. The renewed contact stirred that dismaying, disruptive heat into flames again.

Siena’s throat muscles locked.

In a voice pitched so low she had to struggle to hear him, Nick said, “I’m sorry I gave you such a fright, but,
hell
—for a stupid moment I thought you’d decided to take the easy way out of this damned imbroglio.”

She drew in a shaking, hard-won breath. “You should know me better than that.”

“I do.”

Siena opened her mouth to speak, only to have the words crushed by the renewed pressure of Nick’s mouth. Astounded, she struggled against the drugging sensuousness his kiss provoked.

Nicholas broke the carnal spell by lifting his head. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”

Vainly Siena tried to rally common sense and fortitude. “But—”

“But what?” Nick’s tone was back to his trademark cool neutrality.

Mouth tautly controlled, she angled her chin. She couldn’t discern any emotion in his handsome face, and in the scented stillness they measured glances like swordsmen determining the perfect moment to attack.

Until she asked, “What on earth made you think I’d be likely to try and kill myself?”

He released her and, startled, she staggered a little. Instantly he steadied her.

“I didn’t—I don’t,” he corrected bluntly. “But you looked—lost. As though your life had collapsed around you.”

Struggling to regain some composure, she swallowed before managing to say in what sounded almost like her normal voice, “Even if it had, I wouldn’t do that.”

“I realise that now,” he said curtly. “In fact, I knew then—it was a reflex action, nothing more. Do you still want to walk?”

“I’ve got a fair amount of adrenalin churning through me. Can you—?” She stopped just in time to hold back the words
Can you think of a better way to use it up?

Unfortunately she could, but clearly Nick was in no mood to make love. Ever since they’d got up in Hong Kong he’d been withdrawing. Oh, it wasn’t as brutal as the first time he’d walked out on her, but she knew rejection when she experienced it.

So what about those kisses a few minutes ago?

Relief? Or perhaps a subtle punishment? As soon as she’d responded he’d released her.

“All right, then, let’s get down there.” He strode off towards the steps that snaked down the cliff-face.

Still shaken, Siena followed.

The little bay was no more than a cove, and they walked in silence along the yielding white sand for some minutes before he asked conversationally, “Were you in love with him?”

Were,
she noticed. Her heart twisted. Had she ever been in love with Adrian?

But the memory of the way she’d felt in Nick’s arms overshadowed everything else. Her mouth dried.

In a way she’d betrayed Adrian.

“I certainly believed I was,” she said in gruff voice.

“It’s trite to say it, but it’s not the end of the world.”

She sent him a level glance. He was tough and dominant, brilliant and quick to make up his mind, utterly determined, master of his life.

No doubt he could move from one relationship to another without tearing himself to pieces.

Siena’s jagged breath hurt, but her voice was composed and crisp when she answered, “I know that. Have you ever been in love?”

And wondered at her own effrontery.

Nick paused, then admitted curtly, “Yes.”

Who?
she thought, savaged by a lethal jealousy. Which of the several women linked romantically to him had been the one?

Pain sawed through her, so intense she couldn’t speak. It served her right for being so nosy.

Nick said, “What are your plans now?”

She watched the romantic moon veil itself in a faint wisp of cloud. Reaching deep inside herself, she said quietly, “You were right when you said I needed a decent night’s sleep.” Although right now that seemed a forlorn hope. “Tomorrow I’ll work out what to do.”

“Any ideas?”

She hesitated, then said quietly, “I don’t know yet.” And added in a much stronger voice, “But don’t you dare feel sorry for me, and for heaven’s sake don’t think I’m going to do something stupid. I’ll manage.”

“Spoken like a survivor.” The flash of strong white teeth revealed a humourless smile.

“I am a survivor,” she said, and left it at that, looking away from his too-perceptive survey.

Nick glanced down. Hadn’t she suspected Worth at all?

No, he thought savagely, she hadn’t. She’d trusted that idiot completely.

His body stirred at the memory of how she felt in his arms. Repressing that spontaneous and inconvenient reaction, he wondered how she’d deal with the situation.

That she
would
deal with it was a given—she had guts and strength—but another swift glance revealed that her mouth was held in a taut line in her strained face.

What the hell was she thinking? How did she feel about their lovemaking? Since waking that morning she’d been studiously casual, as though it meant nothing more than a pleasant interlude. Perhaps to her it didn’t.

With sardonic amusement at his own contrariness, he knew that if she’d been any other woman he’d have welcomed her attitude.

Instead it roused a possessiveness he despised. He wanted to physically shake her into awareness of him.

When she frowned he said, “I’m sorry for frightening you.”

He let that hang in the air, and eventually she said with a wry smile, “And I’m sorry you found yourself in the middle of a family drama. Actually, being grabbed did startle me, but I’ve done martial arts training and I think I could have taken you out.”