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‘I’m sure he wouldn’t share your assessment.’
‘Be that as it may, it’s how I feel. I would never want anyone else to depend on me. Not a woman, not a child. No one.’
She reached for her own drink, sipping it slowly, her eyes showing she was lost in thought.
He couldn’t say why, but he wanted her to understand. ‘Dependence is...difficult,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘My mother...’ Was he really going to go down this path?
‘Yes?’
His eyes locked on hers on a sigh of frustration. ‘I couldn’t help her. I loved her—I was just a kid and she was my mother—but it didn’t matter what I said or did.’
Beatrice was frowning. ‘What was she like?’
‘Fun.’ His grimace showed pain. ‘When she was around, at least. She was full of energy some of the time, taking us to the playground at midnight or sneaking us in to see a movie, spontaneous and—’ He sought the word.
‘Erratic?’ she supplied gently.
‘Yes. Exactly. I realise now that this “spontaneous” fun usually coincided with her benders. Then the darkness would come—days of her being in bed, unable or unwilling to move. Sick, shouting at us to be quiet.’
‘And so you took care of her?’
‘As much as she’d let me.’ He shrugged.
‘And Matthaios?’
‘Yes. I cared for him too. Someone had to feed him.’
Bea’s eyes were filled with sympathy. He looked away, firming his jaw.
‘So you can see why I’m sceptical about the whole idea of being needed by anyone. It’s not healthy. I hate it.’
Bea’s soft exhalation of breath eventually drew his gaze back.
‘Anyone else might say that sounds kind of lonely,’ she observed eventually.
Something strengthened in his chest. ‘But not you?’
She shook her head slowly. ‘No. Not me.’
For himself, he understood the decision, but for Bea, something inside Ares cracked apart a little. There was something completely unacceptable about the way she’d walled herself off from life and the experience of companionship.
He reached across the table, putting his hand on hers. ‘I don’t get seriously involved with the women I date, Beatrice, because I abhor the idea of relationships and all the emotional expectations that come from them. But I do date. I enjoy the company of women, I enjoy sex and intimacy. I appreciate the importance of human connection, even when I know I have my limits.’
Her smile was wry. ‘I don’t think that’s any better than the way I live my life.’
‘So when you leave here, is it your intention to go back to the way things were before? Avoiding men, avoiding dating, hiding yourself in unflattering outfits lest someone actually recognises that you’re a sensual, attractive woman?’
Her cheeks turned a vibrant pink, her lips parting indignantly. ‘That’s not—’ She clamped her lips down on the denial. ‘That’s none of your business.’
He laced their fingers together, squeezing her hand. ‘You deserve better than the life you’re living.’
She pulled her hand away. ‘I like my life.’
He didn’t need to say anything to challenge her. His look communicated his scepticism just fine. She huffed and stood, pacing towards the pool. As the evenings had grown warmer they’d taken to eating out here. Beatrice, Ares had learned, loved sunsets, her affinity with this time of day something he’d subconsciously begun to crave. He’d made sure he was home in time to enjoy them with her—or, rather, to enjoy her enchantment as the sky dressed itself in a different outfit each evening. Tonight had been cloudless, so the sky had filled with a gentle gradient, fading from purple at the horizon to gold and peach. The ocean took on tones to match, a steely turquoise in the lessening light.
He pushed his own chair back. Nothing he’d said had been wrong, but upsetting Bea was intolerable. He prowled towards her, standing at her back, his hands curving over her shoulders.
‘It’s your life,’ he murmured gently. ‘And in less than a week you’ll get back to it. I don’t like to think of you leading it alone—even when, selfishly, a part of me never wants you to get involved with any other man.’
