The High Price of Secrets Page 14

  “Give me five minutes,” she said.

  “Sure, I’ll be out front in the car.”

  * * *

  Finn rubbed his hand over his face again as Tamsyn left the room. That had been close. The call from Lorenzo hadn’t gone as he’d hoped. When it came to protecting Ellen from what he saw as the terribleness of the Masters family, he was almost rabid. It didn’t seem to matter what Finn said, Lorenzo’s mind was made up.

  Added to his overprotective nature was his fear, because no matter what the doctors did, no matter how hard Lorenzo fought to hold Ellen here, she continued to deteriorate. He was desperate to safeguard what he saw as his last weeks with her.

  Finn understood why Lorenzo was so scared. Talking about his mother, remembering how it felt, day in and day out, trying to hold everything together around the farm, trying to support his mom through her grief while virtually having to ignore his own, had left deep scars.

  There’d been days when he’d resented her deeply, had wished she’d been more like other mothers—loving and capable, present in the moment instead of locked inside some awful living tomb. Then, of course, he’d be assailed with guilt and shame. She missed his father—they both did—and without his father’s booming, happy presence, it was up to Finn to fill the gaps.

  But he’d failed. He’d failed her then, and he’d failed her later by insisting on going to see her before she was ready to see him again. By forcing her to face him, he’d forced her to face her own failures as a parent, and that had been enough to make her withdraw from reality completely. She refused to eat, refused to leave her bed—eventually dying in her sleep. Lost in her anguish. Alone.

  He’d been responsible for his mother choosing death over life and, all guilt over keeping Tamsyn from seeing her mother aside, he’d be damned if he visited that responsibility onto Tamsyn as well.

  Nineteen

  Riding the rutted track on the quad bike, with Tamsyn’s arms reluctantly secured around his waist, was bittersweet. With every bump in the road he felt her press against him—the softness of her breasts, the involuntary thrust of her hips. She’d started the journey determinedly holding on to the back of the seat, but as the track had grown rougher she’d been forced to relinquish her hold and cling to him like a limpet.

  He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when they reached the flat and she didn’t let go. The going was easier but still she held on, her slender arms like a band around his waist. He allowed himself to enjoy it while he could, certain it wouldn’t last long.

  She’d barely said a word to him since he’d returned to the house after their jaunt into town. She was still mad about the cottage, he knew. Mad about the secrets he was still keeping, mad about the whole situation. He didn’t blame her, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing but to try and distract her in the meantime.

  Fire lit his groin at the thought of various sensual ways he could distract her but he fought himself back under control. For now he needed to earn her trust back. He’d wounded her, he knew that, and it hurt with an almost physical pain to admit it.

  He opened the throttle some more and swiftly covered the remaining few hundred meters to the lake’s edge where he’d optimistically begun to peg out the buildings a couple of weeks ago. The sooner they dismounted the quad bike the sooner he’d be able to rid himself of the sensation of her fastened against him, and of how right it felt.

  “This is a beautiful spot,” Tamsyn commented as she got off the bike and walked over to the lake’s edge. “You didn’t want to build down here for yourself?”

  “My parents’ house used to be over there.” He pointed to a stand of trees where a crumbling chimney and fireplace were all that remained of his former home. “A wiring failure one night led to it burning down after I went into foster care. I always said I’d rebuild there, but as I grew older I began to appreciate that it was probably better to make a new start. Besides, I love the outlook from my home now.”

  “King of the castle and master of all you survey?” Tamsyn said dryly.

  “Hardly,” he answered with a small frown.

  Was that how she saw him? Autocratic and wanting to control everything?

  “I think it’s the freedom of the space that appealed to me most up there. The sensation of not being boxed in. Plus, it was symbolic of a new start for me after I sold my business. Fresh horizons and all that.”

  She nodded and started to walk along the waterline, her hands shoved in her pockets. He followed her a few steps behind.

  “I thought this trip to New Zealand would be a new horizon for me,” she said softly.

  He could feel the pain in her voice.

  “You know, I think I would have been better off not knowing that my mother is still alive. Alive and, from the looks of things, not wanting to see me.” She huffed a humorless laugh. “Not wanting me, period.”

  Finn reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face him. He had to tell her something, give her something she could hold on to.

  “Your mother has loved you all your life. I’ve known her for much of mine and she never stopped thinking about you or your brother. Never. Believe me or not, but it’s true.”

  He pushed as much honesty into his words as he could. She had to believe him. He knew he’d failed when he saw Tamsyn’s expression cloud over, saw anger make her eyes turn hard.

  “Well, if she has, she sure has a funny way of showing it. I’ve been here, searching for her, for weeks with not a word from anyone to tell me where to find her. They kicked me out of their house. There’s no way they’re ever going to want to see me, is there?”

  He couldn’t lie. “That’s something you might just have to come to terms with, Tamsyn. As hard as it is, as awful as it is, it’s out of both our hands.”

  He let his hand slide down her arm, his fingers tangling with hers. She didn’t resist and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of triumph that she didn’t pull away.

  “C’mon, let me show you where I’ve pegged out the chalets and main buildings. It’s not far from the jetty over there.” He pointed with his free arm. “My dad and I built it and it’s still solid. We used to have so much fun here at the lake. That’s what I want to give the families that come here. A chance to play together again. To create good memories.” He wanted desperately to give her good memories of her time in New Zealand—something to take away the sting of the situation with Ellen. But would she let him?

  * * *

  The sun beat down on them as they walked the perimeter of the proposed respite center and Tamsyn felt a trickle of perspiration run down her spine. Jeans had obviously been the practical choice for the quad bike ride and walking in the long grass but, oh boy, did they make a person hot. She lifted her hair off the back of her neck, allowing the breeze to cool her ever so slightly. The lake looked cool and inviting.

  “Thirsty?” Finn asked, as if he could read her mind.

  “Yeah, although I wouldn’t say no to a swim either. Shame we didn’t bring bathing suits.”

  “We don’t need suits.”

  She snapped her head around to look at him.

  He gave her a nonchalant look in return. “It’s totally private here. I can’t even see this edge of the lake from my house, so if you want to take a dip, go for it.”

  “But…”

  Whatever she was going to say flew from her mind as he tugged his T-shirt loose from his jeans and yanked it up over his head. Her eyes were drawn like magnets to his naked torso, to the play of muscles across his chest and lower. He reached down to undo his trainers and slid them and his socks off before his hands went to the waistband of his jeans.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asked, a cheeky gleam in his eyes. “Last one in is a rotten egg.”

  The band of his boxer briefs was already sh
owing. Not one to be left behind, Tamsyn slid her tank top off and toed off her runners while rapidly undoing her jeans. Jeans and socks came off in a smooth movement and she shoulder-barged him as she went past, putting him completely off balance and sending him to the ground in a tangle of jeans and limbs.

  “Cheat!” he called after her.

  He was only seconds behind on the wooden planks of the jetty and she squealed as she heard his rapid footsteps gaining. She was about a meter from the end when she felt his arms close around her waist, felt him lift her in the air, take another long step and twist to fall back backward into the lake.

  Freezing cold, the water closed over her head and shocked the air out of her, but she didn’t panic, didn’t squirm. Instinctively, despite everything, she knew she was safe. Finn’s arms were locked around her like a band and she felt his strong legs kick them back toward the surface. And that wasn’t all she felt. His body was responding to hers and he wasn’t trying to hide it.

  Their heads broke the water and he released her.

  “Man, that feels good,” he said with a grin that went ear to ear.

  She couldn’t help but agree. The sweltering heat that had made her so uncomfortable before had been driven out of her body. But rather than chilling her to the bone, the water felt like silk stroking against her skin—making her aware of each of her nerve endings as they responded to the sensation, and to the nearness of the almost-naked man treading water beside her.

  “Sometimes during the school holidays, when Dad would come back to the house at lunchtime, we’d race each other off the jetty. I lived for those moments. Mum would bring a picnic lunch for us and we’d all sit together afterward until he had to get back to work.”

  “It sounds like you guys had a great relationship,” Tamsyn said, adopting a lazy breaststroke to swim in circles around him.

  “We did. I’m lucky. Even though he died, I still have so many great memories. You missed out on that, didn’t you? Doesn’t seem from what you’ve told me that your father took time out with you kids.”

  “No, he didn’t, but we didn’t miss out altogether. We grew up with our cousins, Judd, Raif, Cade and Cathleen. We were always off on one adventure or another, when we weren’t working on the estate somewhere.”

  Although she’d quietly envied her cousins their mothers while she was growing up, she’d still had a pretty carefree childhood. Ethan had seen to that. Protective, inclusive—he’d been her rock, and still was in so many ways. And her dad had been there, too, in his own gruff workaholic way, along with her uncle and aunts. But there had still been that vital component missing for her.

  The water began to feel chilly again and she gave a little shiver.

  “Let’s get out,” Finn suggested, obviously noticing her discomfort. “We can dry in the sun and have something to eat.”

  “You brought food?”

  “And wine,” he admitted. “Or you can have juice or water if you prefer.”

  “Wine would be nice,” she said, striking out for the ladder on the side of the jetty.

  She was acutely aware of Finn’s presence behind her as she started up the ladder. It kept her from concentrating as she should on the slippery rungs. Her foot shot off the bar and she started to fall, only to be halted by warm hands at her hips steadying her. The feel of Finn’s hands on her body had her senses reeling and heat flashed through her.

  “You okay?” he asked from slightly below her.

  “Y-yes, I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Slowly and determinedly she made her way up the ladder, out of his reach—but only for a moment as a hunk of wet, dripping male came up the ladder right behind her.

  He’d have had a good eyeful of her backside, she thought as she finally put her feet onto the wooden jetty and began to walk to where they’d tossed their clothes. She picked up her things and held them in front of her like a shield as he drew closer, suddenly feeling vulnerable in her dripping, clingy underthings.

  Finn’s gaze swept over her like a blast of hot air and she clutched her garments closer to her wet chest.

  “Here,” he said, grabbing his T-shirt up off the ground. “Wear this if you’d be more comfortable.”

  “But I’ll make it wet,” she protested, even as she accepted it from him.

  He shrugged. “It’ll dry, it’s only lake water.” He picked up his jeans and shook them out. “You want to turn your back a second?”

  Color rushing to her cheeks, Tamsyn did just that and heard the wet plop of his briefs hitting the ground followed by the sound of him easing denim up long damp legs.

  “It’s safe to look now,” he said, and she turned slowly.

  Safe? He had to be kidding. With his hair all wet and spiky, his skin gleaming and his jeans slung low on his hips he was anything but safe.

  “Um, perhaps you’d like to do the same for me?” she asked, her voice betrayingly husky.

  “Sure. In fact, I’ll set up our meal by the old fireplace. Join me when you’re ready.”

  He shoved his socks inside his shoes and, tying the laces into a knot together, he hooked them with a finger and began to head back toward the bike. She watched as he increased the distance between them. Something pulled deep in her belly, as if there was an invisible thread that lay between them. A thread that tightened a notch at a time as he took each step away.

  She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She was still angry with him, he’d lied to her. But he’d also made sure she had a roof over her head and food in her belly. And, from what she’d overhead in his conversation with Lorenzo Fabrini earlier today, he was trying to get the older man to agree to her seeing Ellen.

  The sun slipped behind a cloud and a breeze off the lake caressed her skin, reminding her that she was standing here chilled, almost naked. Tamsyn lifted Finn’s shirt up to her face, checked to ensure he still wasn’t looking and inhaled. His scent filled her, consumed her almost. Spice and wood and quintessential Finn. It made her whole body ache for him.

  He’d reached the quad bike and was lifting a large box off the back. With his back still toward her, he headed toward the ruins of his old home. Secure in her privacy, Tamsyn quickly unsnapped her wet bra and pulled his T-shirt over her head before shimmying out of her wet panties. Instantly she felt warmth begin to seep through her, as if she’d been enveloped by the man himself. How did he do that? How did he make her feel so secure and yet so vulnerable at the same time? It wasn’t fair.

  Her hair still dripped down her back and she twisted its length to one side, wringing out as much excess water as she could before lifting it and, in lieu of having a band to tie it with, twisting it in a damp knot at the top of her head. A small twig, about the length of a chopstick, shoved through the knot held it from slipping in wet coils down her back. Satisfied she was more comfortable, Tamsyn followed in Finn’s wake.

  He’d spread a blanket on the grass and was taking out some pots of food as well as a pair of wineglasses.

  “Better?” he asked as she drew closer.

  “Thanks, yes.” She spread her bra and panties in the sun on the bricks of the old fireplace and sank to her knees on the blanket.

  “You must be hungry. It’s ages since I brought you breakfast.”

  “I am a bit,” she admitted, realizing now that she was ravenous.

  “Help yourself while I pour the wine.”

  Tamsyn eyed the spread he’d laid out—smoked chicken, coleslaw, fresh bread rolls as well as olives, baby gherkins and sundried tomatoes. Her mouth watered. “It looks great,” she commented, filling the plate he handed her. “I suppose you just threw this together?”

  “Ha! I wish I could take the credit. No, I asked Bill at the café to put this together for us.” He looked at her, his features softening. “You remind me a lot of her—Ellen.”

&nb
sp; “I do?”

  “Yeah. You look like her, of course, but it’s also the way you move, the way you sit. It reminds me of when she used to declare dinner a picnic, even in the middle of winter, and we’d sit around on the floor—Ellen, Lorenzo, Alexis and me—eating with our fingers off the plates. She’d laugh, how she’d laugh.”

  At first his words hurt, opened wider the gap between what she’d had and what she’d lost when her mother had left her. But then she felt a different sensation, almost tenderness, as a similar picture flooded her mind. Of her mother and Ethan and herself as a small girl, sitting in front of the fireplace at The Masters, rain pelting against the side of the house and yet they were cozy, together—enjoying a meal as if it was the simplest and most fun thing in the world. And she could hear her mother’s laugh echoing through her memories; sense the touch of her mother’s fingers on her face as she brushed away a clinging scrap of food from a cheek.

  Tamsyn swallowed against the rise of emotion that clogged her throat.

  “Damn, Tamsyn, I didn’t mean to upset you. I just thought—”

  “No, you haven’t upset me,” she choked out, “not at all.”

  “Then why are you looking so sad?”

  “I just had a similar memory. Just a snippet, but I know it was real.” She reached across the short distance between them. “Thank you,” she said in all sincerity.

  “For what?” He curled his hand over hers.

  “For sharing her with me. Even just that little bit.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed them against her knuckles. “I wish I could do so much more for you, Tamsyn.”

  “I know,” she answered, and she did. It still stung a little that she was being prioritized last, but she understood why his loyalty to Lorenzo went deep. And really, he was doing everything he could for her that didn’t directly challenge that loyalty. That had to mean something.