He took her empty plate with his free hand and stacked it with his. Tamsyn’s heart rate skipped a beat as he turned his gaze back to her. He still held one hand in his, and with the fingers of the other he traced the contours of her face—his touch so gentle, almost reverent.
“I want to make love to you again,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “Will you allow me that honor?”
Twenty
Tamsyn felt the shiver of desire run from the base of her spine and all the way up into her clouded brain. She could refuse him, pull her hand free and withdraw from his request. He’d respect her decision, she was certain. For all that he’d withheld truths from her, she understood he was an honorable man. But her body had its own demands and try as she might to hold on to her anger with him, she couldn’t resist him.
“Yes,” she answered, her voice a whisper taken on the breeze that nuzzled and eased around their bodies.
His irises widened and she heard his breath hitch just that little bit. Enough for her to know he’d been anticipating a no from her. Enough to know what it meant to him that she’d said yes.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling her toward him and meeting her lips with his own.
His kiss was tender at first, a soft play of his lips against hers—sucking, teasing kisses that enticed and tempted. Her nipples tightened beneath the cotton of his shirt, pressing against the fabric with an ache that spread all the way down to her core. A soft moan fled her mouth as he traced her jawline with his mouth, sucking softly at the sensitive skin of her throat.
Tamsyn hitched herself against him, her legs falling on either side of his, her rapidly dampening center pressing against the ridge that told of his body’s own silent entreaty. Finn’s hands were at her waist, pushing up the fabric of his shirt, tracing her ribs and slowly, oh so tormentingly slowly, moving higher to cup the fullness of her breasts.
His thumbs grazed against the tight nubs that peaked at their tips and she shuddered, pressing harder against him. He squeezed and rolled the taut beads between thumb and fingertip and in response she arched her back, flexed her hips against him, against his straining erection. Finn’s mouth traced a blazing trail of wet heat to the fullness of her breasts until he took first one, then the other nipple in his mouth, rolling them with his tongue, suckling and grazing them with his teeth.
Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails embedding in his skin as with each pull of his mouth he sent a spear of sensation to her aching core. She needed him—inside her, outside her, everywhere…all the time. Acknowledging that fact was a pleasure-pain that drilled into the back of her mind. This was no fling for her, not anymore. Somehow they’d crossed the invisible boundary of simply being lovers. Somewhere on this journey, she’d fallen irrevocably in love.
A sharp pang resonated through her as the truth hit home. Was she forever destined to fall in love with men who’d put others’ needs before her own?
Now wasn’t the time to reach for the answer to that question. Now was a time to take, to share, to give in return. And she did. They shed their clothes until they lay on the blanket, bare in the glorious sunshine, dappled by the shadows of the tree on the outer perimeter of the ruins. How symbolic, she thought, that their coming together like this, right now, should be within the confines of a home, a life, ruined by fire. Hadn’t it been so with her own family? Hadn’t they then risen from the ashes, stronger and better than before?
She could only hope that what she shared with Finn would be the same. That it could withstand the elements that battered against it. That they could rise together in the aftermath. A unit rather than two individuals. And so she gave herself over to the rhythm of their lovemaking, and when he slid his length inside her, she cried out in welcome, closing around him, holding him there as if she wished she need never let go of him again.
Afterward they lay together, legs entangled, his body half across hers. Their heartbeats hammering crazily in their chests as perspiration dried on their skin. Ripples of pleasure still ran through her body, each one gentling in its turn as her breathing slowly returned to normal. A deep lassitude spread through her body. If only they could stay here, like this, forever. No worries about the outside world, about the people within it or the decisions they made.
The sun slid behind a cloud, sending a change through the air. Nature’s reminder that nothing remained in a state of suspension forever. She thought about Finn’s earlier words, about coming to terms with the fact that she might not see Ellen, ever. Could she settle for that? Could she let go of the need to ask the questions that only her mother could answer and still be happy, still move forward with her life?
Only time would tell.
* * *
Back at the house, Finn asked Tamsyn to move into his room and heaved a sigh of relief when she agreed. He might not be able to offer her what it was she wanted most, but he could openly give himself as much and as often as she’d have him.
Over the next two weeks, they settled into a pattern together, one interrupted only by her volunteer work in town. For the rest of the time, he’d invited her to help him with the early planning stages of the respite center.
Her experience at The Masters proved surprisingly useful as they discussed the construction and outfitting of the family chalets. Her work in restoring and converting the old laborers cottages on their family property into luxury accommodation gave her insights and ideas that he found integral moving forward.
They made a terrific team. So terrific that he could barely sleep at night, wondering when it was all going to fall apart. What would Tamsyn do when she found out the last secret—that Ellen had not chosen to bar Tamsyn’s access to her after all but was, instead, dying…and that he’d known it all along? Would she ever forgive him when the truth came out? Was there any way he could keep from losing her?
Christmas loomed in just ten days’ time. He’d half expected Tamsyn to at least want to head home for the holiday but she’d shown no inclination to want to be with her family. Instead, she’d teased him into buying a tall tree and festooned it with lights and decorations, some of which were ones his mother had carefully collected, spared in the house fire since they’d been stored in the detached garage.
He’d forgotten he had them, to be honest, until she’d started in about the tree. Decorating it with her had brought happier memories back to the surface in his heart. Memories of times with his parents when they looked forward to the festive season and made a huge fuss over him. Memories of Lorenzo, Ellen, Alexis and him sharing Christmas meals and the spirit of giving.
Each night he and Tamsyn had begun their own ritual, turning on the tree lights as soon as they finished their work, even though dark didn’t come until closer to eight-thirty in the evening. Before they prepared their evening meal together, they’d share a glass of wine and share stories as they sat by the tree, his peppered with vignettes of life with Ellen and Lorenzo, as well.
Tonight, though, she’d become quiet before eventually asking him to stop talking about Ellen.
“I’ll never find my peace with the fact she doesn’t want to know me if I’m constantly wishing for what I never had—for what she gave to you.”
Her words had cut him to the bone, scourging him anew with guilt. He wondered whether the gift he’d chosen for her for Christmas, the one he had yet to place under their tree, was still the right thing. A self-portrait, Ellen had done the painting about ten years ago. It was one of his favorite pictures of her and he’d believed Tamsyn would appreciate having it. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Would it just reinforce the loss she felt all over again?
He had quietly cursed Lorenzo’s dictates and his own promise to the man who’d raised him from adolescence into adulthood. But he’d held his tongue, and would keep his word to both Tamsyn and Lorenzo inasmuch as he was able.
One thing he knew above all others now, though.
He loved Tamsyn. She’d inveigled her way into his life, but he’d welcomed her into his heart and his home, and now he never wanted her to leave. How they could work that out going into the weeks and months ahead was a problem.
Finn drifted to sleep no closer to finding an answer today than he’d been in all the days and nights before.
The subtle buzz of his mobile phone on the bedside table roused him from sleep a few hours later. Carefully, so as not to disturb Tamsyn, he slid out of bed and left the room, answering the call only when he’d closed the bedroom door securely behind him.
“Finn?”
Lorenzo’s voice was different. More strained than usual.
“Lorenzo, are you okay? Is Ellen—?”
“She dying, Finn. She’s letting go. Each hour, each minute, a little more. The doctors…they say it won’t be long now.”
The older man’s voice broke and tears burned at the back of Finn’s eyes, a massive lump fixed in his throat. All along, Lorenzo had been strong for Ellen, strong for Alexis, too, when she’d returned home from Italy. Now he was crumbling and he needed someone else to lean on as he faced the biggest loss of his entire life.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Finn promised, blinking back the tears and biting back the fear that he might be too late to be of any help to anyone.
“Whenever you arrive, my boy, it cannot be too soon,” Lorenzo said, confirming Finn’s worst fears.
“If I have to charter someone to take me there, Lorenzo, I’ll be there. I promise.”
He ended the call and made his way to his office, settling in the chair and, waking up his sleeping computer, he punched the appropriate keys to bring up flights and availability from Blenheim to Wellington. The first flight out was at 7:05. He flicked a glance at his watch: 5:00 a.m. Allowing for the half an hour preboarding check-in and the half hour or so to get to the airport, he’d need to leave soon. He booked himself on the flight, printed his ticket and boarding pass and headed back upstairs toward his bedroom so he could gather some things together.
Tamsyn.
The thought of her stopped him in his tracks. All he wanted to do was protect her from the inevitable pain ahead. What should he tell her? What could he tell her?
The answer came in a resounding echo in his head. Nothing. He could tell her absolutely nothing.
Twenty-One
Tamsyn sleepily rolled over, her arm reaching out beside her. The sheets were cold. Instantly awake now, she sat up and listened. Finn wasn’t in the en suite bathroom. A glance at the clock confirmed it was still early, only a quarter to seven. So where was he?
She slipped from the bed and draped her robe around her. In the kitchen there was still no sign of him. The coffeepot was cold and no breakfast dishes lurked in the sink. Even his office was empty. She racked her brain to remember if he’d said something last night about having to go away, but nothing came to mind.
Her phone, which she’d left on the kitchen counter, buzzed to life and she snatched it up, recognizing Finn’s number on the caller I.D.
“Finn? Is everything okay?”
In the background she could hear engine noise and the sound of lots of people.
“I’m sorry, but I got called away again. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone. Look, they’re doing the last call for my flight. I have to go. Take care, okay?”
“What about Lucy?” she thought suddenly.
It still grated that Finn went daily to the cottage to feed the cat and spread feed for the chickens. If she’d been allowed to stay there… She shook her head. It didn’t pay to dwell on the issue.
Finn uttered a short expletive. “I forgot about that. Are you okay doing it?”
“Yes, of course I am,” she answered. She knew where he kept the key, so that wasn’t going to be an problem. “I’ll take care of it. You had better go. I’ll see you when you get back. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get back. I’ve been thinking…about the future. Our future.”
“Our future?” Tamsyn’s heart fluttered in her chest.
Her love for Finn grew stronger every day. To hear him mention a word like future was a light in the darkness. A shred of hope that things would come right.
“I—hell, I didn’t want to say this the first time over the phone, but I need to. I love you, Tamsyn. I’ll be back soon.”
He cut the link between them before she could answer but it didn’t stop her continuing to press the phone to her ear as if doing so could extend their contact a few moments longer. Eventually she put the phone down and wrapped her arms around herself as joy built from deep inside. She danced a little jig around the kitchen island, hugging herself tight until she threw her arms out with a squeal of happiness. Everything was going to be all right. She just knew it.
* * *
It was a week before Christmas and the crowd for the end-of-year Christmas potluck meal at the seniors’ center was swollen with extras Tamsyn had never met before. Given the greetings that flew back and forth, several had been away or unwell and unable to attend, but all had made a monumental effort to attend this last get-together for the year. The tables groaned with the bring-a-plate offerings and the Secret Santa gifts under the artificial tree Tamsyn had erected and decorated quickly this morning were plentiful.
This was going to be a great day, she thought as she watched everyone’s happy faces. She moved through the crowd, ensuring all the guests had what they needed. As she did so, she picked up snippets of conversations that made her smile. Grandparent rivalry was thick in the air, from all accounts. One conversation, though, made her pause as a name hung in the air.
“Did you hear how Ellen is doing?” one of the new faces asked one of the regulars.
“Still in hospital from what I heard,” the regular responded with a dour look on her face. “And it’s not looking good.”
“Oh, dear, that poor woman. Poor Lorenzo.”
Her mother was in hospital? Was that why Lorenzo was being so protective? All the air drove out of Tamsyn’s lungs.
The new woman continued. “So is she still local? Can we visit?”
“No,” came the reply. “She’s in Wellington. They airlifted her there weeks ago. Heart, kidneys, liver—all failing. Tragic, just tragic.”
The other woman nodded in understanding. “So sad.”
Tamsyn wheeled away from the group, desperate for a quiet place where she could think for a moment—process what she’d just heard. She’d hoped, eventually, for a snippet of information to come her way and lead her to her mother, but she’d never anticipated it being anything like this.
A gnarled hand on her arm, accompanied by the reek of stale cigarettes, made her flinch.
“You heard that, didn’t you?” Gladys rasped. “Are you all right, lovey?”
Tamsyn could only shake her head.
“’spected as much. It was only a matter of time before someone let something slip.”
“I have to go,” Tamsyn finally managed to say through numb lips.
“I’ll take care of things,” Gladys said with a look of understanding in her rheumy eyes that was just about Tamsyn’s undoing. “For what it’s worth, we’re all very sorry about your mum.”
Afterward she didn’t remember actually driving from town back to Finn’s house. All she remembered was sitting in his office, the office of the man who’d known all along that her mother was in a hospital in Wellington, dying, and who had kept that information from her. Honor? Promises? Love? They could all be damned. This situation went beyond a vow, beyond loyalty to another man.
Anger kept her from falling apart as she methodically checked every hospital in the book until she struck pay dirt. Her glow of success was short-lived, hitting a wall when the patient-inquiries staff wouldn�
��t give her the status of her mother’s health, insisting she was not on the authorized list of family members.
More research turned up a flight to Wellington that would take a half hour. She sank back in the chair. All this time her mother had been just across Cook Strait, a short hop in a plane. Determination saw her book the last seat on the next flight out, and kept her sane as she drove to Blenheim airport.
* * *
“I’m sorry, miss, but we cannot disclose the patient’s details.” The young woman behind the patient-inquiries window was sympathetic but adamant.
“Can you at least tell me if she’s still alive?” Tamsyn pleaded.
“Please, I will be forced to call security if you don’t leave. I’ve told you all I can.”
“But you’ve told me nothing! She’s my mother and she’s dying. I just want to know if I’m too late to even see her one last time. Is that too much to ask?”
Tamsyn’s voice bordered on the hysterical and the clerk reached for her phone, her hand hovering over one quick-dial button in particular.
“Miss, I understand this is distressing for you, but my instructions are quite clear.”
Tamsyn tore herself away from the window, utter dejection dragging down every cell in her body. She looked toward the elevator bank and weighed the prospect of visiting every floor in the hospital, trailing through each ward searching for the room that had her mother’s name on the door. She’d begun to move toward the elevators when the doors of one car opened and her heart jumped in her chest.
Finn. All the breath in her lungs disappeared on a whoosh. There was an older man with him, she noticed, and a woman perhaps a little younger than herself. Lorenzo Fabrini and his daughter, Alexis. Chills ran through Tamsyn’s body as she recognized them both from the photos at the house, as she laid eyes on her sister in person for the very first time.
Alexis lifted a tissue to her eyes with one hand, wiping fiercely; the other was tucked firmly into the crook of her father’s arm. From here, Tamsyn couldn’t be sure who was supporting whom. Suddenly the ramifications of what she viewed struck home. The older man’s eyes were red-rimmed, as were Finn’s, and Alexis still wept. It was still visiting hours—they wouldn’t have left Ellen entirely alone unless…unless…
The High Price of Secrets Page 15