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He shook his head. ‘But you were supposed to love her, Rhianna. You should have said no. I can’t bear her to know how you’ve betrayed her.’
She said quietly, ‘No, I can see that. Thank you.’
She saw him look past her and realised that the wedding invitation was still lying on the table, where she’d tossed it earlier. Diaz picked it up and tore it into small fragments, which he dropped on to a dirty plate.
‘You will not come to the wedding,’ he said, his eyes cold steel. ‘Do you understand me? You’ll make some excuse. I don’t care what it is. But you’ll bloody stay away—from my home and my family. And especially from Carrie, before and after her marriage. That friendship ends now. Because I don’t trust you, Rhianna. This might have been a casual fling for Rawlins, but you’re still sleeping with him, which makes me suspicious that you might have your own agenda where he’s concerned. Not on my watch. You keep your distance, and your mouth shut, Rhianna, or you’ll be sorry. Don’t say you weren’t warned.’
He walked to the door. ‘I’ve decided to return to South America tomorrow,’ he said. ‘So with luck we won’t meet again.’ His smile made her shiver. ‘Just pray that we don’t.’
And he went out, leaving her standing in the ruin of her life, her arms wrapped defensively round her shaking body.
And now they had met again, and it seemed that she was going to have all the opportunities for regret that could possibly be crammed into one lifetime.
Circumstantial evidence had amazing power, she thought bleakly. Seemingly incontrovertible facts, piling up against her like great stones. Crushing her and silencing her.
Her only—her ultimate—defence had turned out to be the physical innocence she’d surrendered to him on that bed. Ironically, when it no longer mattered.
But the fact that she’d been a virgin did not mean there’d suddenly be bluebirds flying over the rainbow.
Because all the old problems between them hadn’t gone away. In fact they’d probably been compounded by her abject failure to keep him at arm’s length.
And they still had no future.
Sighing, she got to her feet. She couldn’t stay down here for ever, as if she was too shy or too scared to face him. Once she’d seen to her delayed packing she would go up on deck and do her best to seem calm and collected, as if the events of the past two hours had never occurred. Or were somehow no big deal.
Smoke and mirrors, she thought. Playing a part she would never have chosen in a million years. So that soon, maybe within a day or two, she could walk away from him for ever, without looking back or letting him see how high a price she was paying for her departure.
Diaz was sitting at the table under the awning, looking out to sea, but at her approach he rose politely. He’d changed too, she saw, into close-fitting chinos and a dark blue shirt, open at the neck, sleeves turned back.
Realised too that just the sight of him was enough to send her spinning into some infinity of pain mingled with a desire that was no longer just a figment of her imagination but a recently experienced reality.
God help her, she could still taste his mouth on hers, feel the warm arousal of his hands on her breasts and thighs. Could recall in every detail the sheer impetus of need that had driven her to surrender such a short time ago.
It took all the courage she possessed to walk forward and join him now, wryly aware as she was that her swollen nipples were chafing against the confines of her bra, and that a soft languorous ache was coming to slow life deep within her all over again.
As she sat, he indicated a jug filled with deep red liquid, clinking with ice cubes and afloat with lemon slices, that stood in front of him.
‘Enrique concocts a lethal sangria,’ he remarked. ‘Are you prepared to risk it?’
She shrugged. ‘Why not?’
It would make as good an anaesthetic as any other, and she needed all the help she could get, not just for the next few hours, but for the remainder of whatever time she had to spend in his company.
I wish I could fall asleep, she thought, and wake up in London with all of this behind me, so that I could begin to put myself together again. Rebuild my life and plan for some kind of future. Find another dream—if that’s possible…
In the meantime…‘Any more dolphin sightings?’ she asked brightly, trying not to gasp as the sangria hit home.
‘Sadly, no, but they may be waiting to catch another glimpse of you.’ He paused. ‘I like your dress.’
‘You’ve seen it before.’
‘Ah,’ he said lightly, ‘but perhaps I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it at the time.’
