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‘So what is it with you and money? You have a fortune, r
ight? Why do you have a chip on your shoulder about people like...like me,’ she finished, a small pause punctuating her question as she forced herself to remember just who she was supposed to be.
‘I told you. I have known a lot of women like you.’
He shook his head, clearing the image of Marina once more. The two women were nothing alike, apart from their beauty and the fortunes they’d grown up knowing to be at their fingertips.
‘And yet they were not like you. They were women of the same background. I expected you to be the same. And yet you are...’
‘Yes?’ A breathy question, a plea for him to continue.
‘Unique.’ He grinned, breaking the mood that was swirling around them.
‘Thanks.’
She turned her back on the view. They were close to the top now.
‘You didn’t have money, growing up?’
His expression darkened and she understood that he was wrestling with whether or not to answer the question.
‘No,’ he said after a moment, taking a step towards the precipice of the volcano.
She fell into step just behind him. ‘Your parents?’ she prompted, curious about this man.
There’d be information on the internet, if she looked him up, but that wasn’t possible for the next week. Her phone had no reception on the island.
‘My father wasn’t in the picture,’ he said, and the words were clipped, as though they were being dragged from him. ‘My mother worked hard to make ends meet. But she got sick and wasn’t always able to hold down jobs.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tilly murmured, her heart squeezing. ‘Is she...okay now?’
‘She died. A long time ago.’
‘Oh, Rio.’
She reached out and curled her fingers around his forearm, forcing him to stop. He was much taller than she was, but a step ahead of her the difference was even more pronounced.
She stared up at him, saw the sun golden behind his head. ‘How old were you?’
A muscle jerked in his jaw. Her eyes dropped to it, and she understood his anguish and pain.
‘Seventeen.’
She shook her head slowly from side to side. ‘What happened?’
Again, it seemed he wasn’t going to answer. She watched him weigh up his words and finally he turned around, resuming his course up the hill and breaking their contact.
‘Cancer,’ he said under his breath, just loud enough for her to catch it.
She nodded, but her heart was breaking for the young man he must have been. On the cusp of adulthood, alone in the world.
‘What did you do?’
His laugh was a brittle sound. ‘What did I do, cara?’
The term of endearment came without warning but she didn’t question it. She infinitely preferred it to his use of Cressida’s name.
‘I finished school and then I worked.’
