by Ginna Gray
She had no illusions that he was bluffing, or that once he had cooled down he would retract his words; Richard didn't make idle threats. He would cut her out of his life with the same ruthless determination he employed to rid himself of an unprofitable investment.
"Why didn't you tell me about the baby?"
So lost was Rebecca in heir painful thoughts, it took several seconds for Travis's question to penetrate. In truth, she had almost forgotten that he was there. Slowly, she turned halfway and looked at him over her shoulder.
"Why? Because losing my baby was too painful to talk about. It's still too painful." Her gaze returned to the pier in time to see her father climb aboard the Juanita. He said something to Raphael and slashed his hand through the ah* for emphasis. At once, the fisherman scurried down the gangplank and cast off the mooring lines. "Anyway, what would have been the point?"
"What would have been the point?" Travis repeated, incredulous. "The point is, I could have consoled you, or at least tried. Dammit, Rebecca, I thought we were getting close. That we'd come to mean something to each other. Now I find you've been keeping this secret."
Rebecca glanced back at him and felt a flicker of surprise when she saw his expression. For the first time she realized that she had hurt him. On some remote level she wanted to go to him and reassure him, erase that anguished look from his eyes, but her own pain was simply too overwhelming.
"It wasn't a secret. Not really. Oh, Travis don't you understand ..." Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca saw the boat pull away from the dock and head out to sea. She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes. "Please, Travis, I don't... I don't want to talk about this right now. I... I can't."
Travis's expression turned contrite. "Ah, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"No, don't!" she said quickly, and held up her hands when he took a step toward her. "I don't...that is...if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone for a while. I... I think I'll go to my room."
She felt fragile. And empty. Inside all that was left was one big ache. All she wanted was to find a dark place where she could curl up in a ball and shut out the world.
Travis frowned. "Rebecca... sweetheart, do you think that's wise? I know it hurts, but you need to let it all out-"
"No, really, I'm fine," she insisted shakily. "I just need a little time to myself to put everything into perspective. That's all." A wan smile of apology fluttered about her mouth for an instant before she turned to leave.
Travis watched her go, his concern growing when he saw the direction she was taking. Since becoming lovers, they had occupied his bedroom, but she was headed for her old room in the right wing.
She held her shoulders back and her head high, but she walked with stiff, precisely measured steps and a determined dignity that tore at his heart.
"Damn!" Travis swung away from the empty doorway, his hands balled into tight fists. He'd handled that all wrong. Jeez, McCall, you are a jerk. She'd just had her guts ripped out by her old man, for Pete's sake. So what do you do? Instead of comforting her right away like you should have, you light into her for not telling you about the baby. Great going, you jerk. Real sensitive.
All right, so it hurt that she hadn't confided in you. No matter how you feel or how much you want her to trust you, she has to deal with the past the best way she can. Hell, if you hadn't been so wrapped up in your own hurt feelings you would've noticed that it was agony for her to talk about losing her baby. She'd barely been able to get the words out to tell her father, and she'd only done that as a last ditch act of desperation.
Grimacing, Travis raked his hand through his hair, bringing it down the back of his head to massage the knotted muscles in his neck. It had cost her. plenty, and for what? That bastard had brushed aside her suffering and loss as though she were a child whining over something as piddling as a skinned knee.
Travis thought about his own family. All of their lives he and the twins, Reilly and Ryan, and their younger sister, Meghan, had known the unconditional, unending love of both their parents. It had wrapped around them like a protective blanket, cushioning life's blows, giving them a sense of security and a comfortable confidence in themselves. That love had been so much a part of their lives, they had simply taken it for granted.
Travis frowned. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a father like Richard Quinn.
How the hell could a man treat his own child that way? How could he just put her out of his life?
Travis glanced at the entrance to the right wing. He didn't know what to do. It didn't set right with him for her to be suffering alone, yet what could he do, short of kicking the door down and forcing his company on her?
For the rest of the day, Travis prowled the living room, watching the right hallway entrance and straining to catch the slightest sound. Several times, he crept down the hall and stood outside her door. Had he heard weeping or any sign of anguish, he would have stormed inside and taken her in his arms, no matter what her objections, but from the other side of the door came only a tomblike silence.
He thought she would surely emerge after an hour or two, but darkness came with no sign of Rebecca. For dinner Travis opened a can of soup and made sandwiches, but when he tapped on her door and invited her to join him, he received a polite, "No thank you. I'm not hungry."
"At least you know she's still alive," he grumbled.
He ate alone sitting at the bar. After the dishes were done, he tried to read, but he couldn't concentrate, so he prowled some more. He wondered what Rebecca was doing in there. What she was feeling. What she was thinking. Dammit! Why wouldn't she talk to him? It wasn't healthy for her to withdraw into herself this way!
Nine o'clock came. Then ten. By eleven, Travis decided she wasn't coming out that night. He tiptoed down the hallway one last time and found there was no light coming from under her door. She probably fell asleep from emotional exhaustion, he told himself.
Travis showered and turned in himself, but an hour later he was still awake. He flounced and flopped and punched his pillow time and again, but it was no use. In the past ten days he'd grown used to having Rebecca beside him, and he couldn't sleep without her. Especially not when he knew she was just a few doors away, steeped in misery.
Finally Travis made a frustrated sound and left the bed. On bare feet, he crossed the hall into Erin and Max's room and stepped out through the French doors onto the deck. Braced stiff-arm against the railing, he sighed and gazed at the water.
Moonlight picked out the white foam of the breakers rolling in to shore. Its reflection and that of the stars spilled across the shining surface of the water like liquid gold and illuminated the sand an eerie iridescent blue. Lace-edge waves tumbled onto the shore with a whispery splash. Silhouetted against the lighter sky, the palm trees swayed in a gentle breeze like languid dancers, their tattered leaves rustling.
Absently, Travis studied the night sky for the Big Dipper, then let his gaze wander down the shoreline. He stiffened suddenly and stared, every muscle in his body springing to alertness. A hundred yards or so down the beach a lone figure stood at water's edge, her dark hair and long white robe billowing out behind her.
Rebecca.
* * *
The foamy edge of a wave tickled her toes before retreating. The next big one would probably cover her feet. Remotely, Rebecca knew she should probably step back a few paces, but she did not move. With her arms crossed over her midriff, she stared at the water, absently rubbing her elbows with her fingertips.
Her chest felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise. It doesn't matter. None of it matters! she told herself vehemently for perhaps the thousandth time. For heaven's sake, she had known for years that she meant less than nothing to her father. She had accepted that.
Rebecca closed her eyes and swallowed hard. So why couldn't she make this awful ache go away?
It would help, she knew, if only she could cry. But somehow she could not. She was too numb. The pain was too deep.
A prickly sensation ran up the back of her neck and over her scalp. She tensed, suddenly aware of him behind her.
"Rebecca."
Travis whispered her name like a plea, his voice husky and beseeching, riddled with uncertainty and longing that tugged at her.
She turned slowly and looked across the few feet of sand that separated them, into pale eyes that glittered with loving concern. He had come to her as he slept—naked—and he looked impossibly beautiful standing there in the moonlight, like a magnificent Viking warrior, stunningly unself-conscious, his long blond hair lifting in the breeze, the dangling saber swaying from his left earlobe, his fit body gilded by the lunar glow.
"Rebecca," he repeated in an aching voice. "Sweetheart, for God's sake, let me hold you."
The concern and pleading in his eyes, the anguish in his voice reached out to her. Something shifted and gave way inside Rebecca, releasing a hot floodtide of emotion. It gushed up into her chest and clogged her throat. Her chin wobbled and tears filled her eyes. Trembling with desolation and wrenching pain, her gaze clung to him across the distance.
Finally her face crumpled. "Oh, Travis," she quavered piteously, and when he held his arms out to her, she took a stumbling step toward him.
Before she could take a second, he had covered the distance and snatched her into his arms.
"Oh, sweetheart! Dear God, I'm so sorry," he muttered fiercely. He clamped her to him with all his might, one arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand cupping the back of her head, pressing her face against his chest.
"Oh, Tra-Tra-Travis it hur-hurts so much," she gulped between sobs.
"I know, love. I know."
Great, wrenching cries rose up and tore from her. The sounds were raw and painful to hear, and the force of them shook her whole body.
The tears she had held in check for hours, years, came pouring out in a torrent. They saturated the mat of soft hair and trickled down his chest to the point where their bodies pressed together, soaking into the front of her terry cloth robe.
Rebecca clutched him as though she would climb right into his body, her fingers digging into his back. She burrowed against his chest, seeking the strength he gave so willingly. At that moment he was the bedrock of her life, her only source of comfort, and she clung to him with the strength of desperation.
Her sobs rent the peaceful night, harsh, heart-rending wails torn from the core of her being. They hurt her throat and interfered with her breathing, but she couldn't stop. Behind the tears was a lifetime of stored-up pain and disappointment and yearning.
Jaw clenched, Travis rubbed his cheek against her crown and waited for the storm to pass. "You just go ahead and cry, love," he crooned. "Let it all out. You'll feel better." After a while, though, when her cries took on a hysterical edge and showed no sign of abating, he began to get worried. He rubbed her back and grimaced, wondering what he should do.
The problem resolved itself an instant later when a wave broke unexpectedly against the backs of her legs and washed around their feet.
Rebecca gasped and lifted her head from his chest. Bewildered, she looked around, her cries choking off to sharp hiccuping snuffles that caused her chest to jerk. "Wha—"
"Don't worry about it, love. C'mon. I'll take you home." Sweeping her up in his arms, Travis strode for the house.
Rebecca lay docile against his chest, too spent to move. By the time they reached the deck, her cries had diminished to sniffles and an occasional shuddering inhalation. He stood her on her feet only long enough to hose off their sandy legs. Then he scooped her up again and carried her inside.
Without the least hesitation or fumbling, he strode through the dark house to the bedroom they had shared for the past ten nights. Laying her down on the bed, he stretched out beside her and pulled her to him, tucking her firmly against his side and cradling her head on his shoulder. When they were settled he held her close and ran his hand up and down her arm and rubbed his jaw against the top of her head.
Rebecca accepted it all with a listless, almost zombielike calm. She lay limp against him, -staring through the darkness, utterly exhausted. Her eyes felt gritty and swollen, and her nose burned, but the terrible ache in her chest had eased to a bearable level. She had needed the release of tears and the comforting support that only Travis could give her. Absently, she toyed with the hair on his chest and wondered why she had held herself apart from him for so long.
"You okay now?" His soft voice stroked over her like a caress and made her feel cherished and protected. His warm, moist breath filtered through her hair and feathered over her scalp. Rebecca shivered. "Yes. I... I'm sorry I went to pieces like that."
"Hey. Don't worry about it. You were entitled."
"Maybe. But it's not as though I had no idea that I mattered so little to him. I realized that years ago." She gave a weak chuckle. "How could I not?"
"I still can't believe that he wanted you to go back to Evan, even after you told him how the bastard had mistreated you. Why, for Pete's sake? Does-he like him that much?"
"Oh, yes. Evan is Father's idea of the perfect son—rich, successful, sophisticated, powerful. He has a lot of influence with some very important people. My father has benefited from Evan's connections more than once."
"Money and social position? For that he's willing to sacrifice his own daughter? That's sick. Did he honestly believe that he could just snap out an order and you'd go meekly back to that monster and let him knock you around some more?"
"Probably. I've never crossed him before." Several seconds ticked by in silence. When she spoke again, her voice had the soft, faraway quality of one adrift in painful memories. "But then I lost the baby, and everything changed. I changed." Her fingers curled into the hair on his chest and her voice dropped to a low pitch that vibrated with passion. "Nothing could make me go back," Rebecca vowed, and a shudder rippled through her. "Nothing. I'd rather die first."
Travis continued to rub her arm from wrist to elbow with slow, hypnotic strokes. "Don't worry, sweetheart. You'll never have to go through anything like that again. I promise."
A weak smile tugged at her mouth. It was sweet of him to want to protect her, but did he really believe that his threat would keep Evan away? "Thank you, Travis. I hope you're right. I just wish I could be as confident. Unfortunately, Evan doesn't easily give up what he considers to be his. Fm sure I'll be hearing from him again soon," she said with weary acceptance.
Travis reached out and snapped on the bedside light, then rolled her onto her back and propped up on his elbow beside her. Tenderly, he touched her cheek with his fingertips. Rebecca looked up at him, and her heart skipped a beat. His habitual, lazily amused expression had given way to taut eagerness, and his silvery eyes glittered down at her with an intensity she had never seen before. "He would have to accept that he's lost you if you were married to another man."
"Ma— Travis! What in the world are you talking about? I'm—" Rebecca caught her breath at the look in his eyes.
"Marry me, Rebecca."
She stared at him in utter disbelief, a panicky feeling rising inside, suffocating her. "Travis, you... you can't be serious. You don't marry someone just so you can protect her." She gave a nervous Utile laugh and tried to scoot away from him, but he would not let her brush the matter aside that easily.
He shifted his hand from her face to her shoulder and held her in place, his gaze boring into her. "That's not why I want to marry you. At least, not the main reason." His eyes delved into hers, and Rebecca felt her heart squeeze. "I love you," he said with a soft sincerity that stole her breath. "I think I always have. I've just been running scared all these years."
"Oh, Travis."
"And I think you love me, too. Don't you, Rebecca?"
She gave him a desperate look, silently pleading with him to stop. "Travis, please..."
"Don't you?"
"All right, yes. Of course I do, but—"
"Then marry me."
Rebe
cca bit her lower lip and gazed at him in anguish. Dear, Lord. For years she had dreamed of him saying those words to her. What cruel irony it was to hear them now, when it was too late. "I.. .I can't," she whispered. Her throat worked, and fresh tears filled her eyes. "I just... can't."
"Why not? If we love each other—"
"Love isn't enough, Travis. We're too different. We want different things from life. Marriage between us would never work."
He started to argue, but she placed four fingers over his mouth and looked at him with infinite sadness. "Oh, my darling, don't you see? You thrive on excitement and danger. And variety—in your work and..." Her lips twisted in a wry grimace. "... let's face it, in women. You enjoy the challenge of each new assignment, of moving from place to place, and of charming the next woman you meet."
"That's not true." At Rebecca's skeptical look his mouth twisted. "All right. So maybe it was at one time, but not anymore. I like women, yes. I admit that. But I've never been in love before, nor have I ever said those words to another woman. I already told you that I haven't been happy with my life lately, and that I was thinking of making a change."
"Yes, and to what? Another job that will keep you bouncing around the globe, as rootless as ever. The only difference is you won't be in danger all the time."
"Dammit, Rebecca—"
"Please understand, Travis, I'm not blaming you." She took his face between her palms and looked deep into his eyes. "You're drawn to excitement and adventure. If s your nature. And I would never try to change you. But if I ever marry again, I want a full-time husband. One who'll be there for me through good times and bad. Someone who will be around for Little League games and dance recitals, and be home for dinner every evening. Someone who'll still love me, and only me, when I'm ninety. Travis, I want—no, I need—a quiet, peaceful life. I need the stability and security of an ordinary existence."