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He was right. “I became a businesswoman because that’s what my father and grandfather did. It defined me. Then I find out I’m not a businessman’s daughter, but the offspring of a brilliant photographer. I know I should take something away from that, but I don’t know what.”
“Who your parents are doesn’t define you any more than your environment does. You are the sum of your choices.”
“You’re a fool to believe your parents didn’t define you. You’ve spent your whole life rejecting their selflessness and believing you’re out for no one but yourself.”
“At least I admit that I’m selfish. It’s my parents who are hypocrites. They were so obsessed with their mission to save every person they met that they couldn’t take two minutes to recognize the person closest to them needed their help, as well.”
Ashton made the accusation without heat or bitterness, as if he’d made peace with his parents’ flaws long ago. By proclaiming his own selfishness he warned the world what they could expect from him.
Harper’s heart constricted in sympathy.
“So you ran away and got caught up with a bad group.”
“I was fifteen and my parents never tried to find me.” And there was the crux of all his pain. Abandoned. Left to fend for himself. Terrorized for three years. Of course he’d developed a protective shell.
“How do you know that? The criminals you fell in with needed to stay way below the radar. They couldn’t have been easy for the police to find.”
“My parents never filed a report that I was missing. No one was looking for me.” He took one hand off the wheel and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When I first joined the gang, Franco checked. Couldn’t find anyone looking for a fifteen-year-old white kid. He told me to go home, offered to help me get out.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Go home to what? I’d left because my parents didn’t give a damn about me. Nothing had changed. They went on with their work. That’s what was important to them.”
The unfairness of it burned like acid in Harper’s stomach. She knew loneliness. Hadn’t she been an afterthought in her parents’ lives? Ross Fontaine had taken to fatherhood with less enthu
siasm than he’d put into being a husband. But her situation hadn’t been unique among her classmates. Many of them had successful, driven parents who worked eighty hours a week and traveled extensively.
But she couldn’t imagine any of them losing a child and going on as if nothing had happened.
“Do you ever wonder what happened to them?”
For a moment Ashton regretted sharing his past with Harper. She wasn’t good at leaving things alone. That her journey to self-discovery hadn’t ended well wasn’t going to diminish her confidence for long. He was certain by the time they got on the plane tomorrow that she would have the plan for her future all documented with bullet points and colorful graphs.
“I don’t wonder.” Or he hadn’t until she’d raised the question. Franco had offered to track down his parents on several occasions, but Ashton had turned him down each time. If they hadn’t looked for him, why should he make sure they were doing all right? “They were committed to their ministry. Whatever happened to them, they will not regret the sacrifices they made.”
And for that he couldn’t condemn them. They’d chosen a path that gave them satisfaction. He’d done the same. He accepted that they wouldn’t be proud that he’d made a great deal of money and become famous. Nothing about what he did fell into their value system.
“I envy your ability to put your past behind you like that.”
He wasn’t completely sure he’d attained the sort of peace of mind she believed he had. Returning to Africa had raised too many old ghosts. He might have left his life here behind fifteen years ago, but it had shaped him into the man he was. That wasn’t something he could completely escape.
They were silent for the rest of the drive back to the camp, the barrier between them created by his stubbornness and her disappointment. Ashton was aware of a sharp ache in his chest. It was a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. Harper’s questions about his parents had unlocked the door on regret. Wanting to know if his mother and father were all right meant he cared. By caring about them he betrayed himself, and the choice he’d made to put his needs first because they never had.
Being selfish at thirty-five wasn’t the same as acting out when he was fifteen. In the years since he’d left home, he’d learned to feel compassion for others the way his parents hoped he would. Even if he hated to admit it and seemed to live his life as if it wasn’t the case, they’d had a powerful influence on him. Maybe it was past time he surrendered to it.
The walkways and outdoor areas of the tent camp were lit with softly glowing oil lamps by the time the Range Rover rolled into a parking space. Ashton glanced at Harper and saw her gaze was fixed on the fanciful beauty of the camp nestled among thousands of acres of wild African countryside.
He took her hand as they traversed the raised walkway to their tent. Although she neither looked his way, nor offered any inkling of her thoughts, she spread her fingers and welcomed the connection.
To Ashton’s great surprise, she began stripping out of her clothes as soon as they entered the tent. Given her difficult day, he expected her to want distance and space. But as she came to stand naked before him and attacked his buttons with single-minded intensity, he decided not to question her motivation.
They tumbled into the big soft bed in a tangle of tongues and limbs. Ashton made love to her with demanding passion, offering no tenderness. She seemed to need none. Her movements beneath him were feverish. Fingernails bit into his skin. Teeth found sensitive areas and left marks.
At last he settled between her thighs, spreading them wide so she would feel a tiny spark of helplessness. Her head thrashed on the pillow as his size and weight pinned her to the mattress, but he hesitated before joining their bodies. He wanted her to recognize his strength, wanted to demonstrate what it felt like to be at his mercy. His power, his determination would protect her from anything, but she had to let him.
As she reached out to touch him, he grasped her wrists and pinned them above her head. She fought his hold, glaring at him the whole time. It wasn’t until her lashes fell and her muscles relaxed that he shifted his hips forward and slid his entire length into her.
Almost immediately her body began to shake with release. He pushed deeper, and she began to cry out. He released her wrists and meshed their fingers, withdrawing so he could drive into her a second time. The strength and swiftness of her climax stirred an uproar in his own body and he followed her over the edge in a matter of seconds.
