One Night in the Orient

by Robyn Donald

  He nodded. “No problem, then.”

  After a second’s hesitation Siena said, “Well—thank you,” and turned to fix her gaze on the view outside the big car.

  With an odd pang of foreboding she realised Hong Kong would always hold a special place in her heart, because here she’d discovered the power and intensity of her own sexuality.

  She looked down at her hands, knotted together in her lap. Hastily forcing them apart, she fixed her unseeing gaze on the teeming streets outside.

  Hong Kong was also where she’d finally accepted her real feelings for Nick. Her stomach tightened as though warding off a blow, but she forced herself to articulate the words she’d hidden from for so long.

  She loved him.

  She loved Nicholas Grenville.

  She’d always loved him—certainly before they’d first made love.

  A heavy weight settled on her chest, shortening her breath as the full impact of her discovery hit her.

  How on earth could you love someone and not know it?

  Thoughts churned through her head, bewildering and jumbled. Actually, she always known, but in a fainthearted effort to protect herself she’d refused to acknowledge her deepest feelings.

  Because she’d always known they were doomed. Nick wouldn’t allow himself to love.

  That was why she’d settled for a safe, unthreatening relationship with Adrian. Now she understood why his defection hadn’t hurt as much as it should. Almost certainly, she thought with remorse, he’d sensed her ambivalence, a distance she hadn’t known she’d felt.

  No wonder he’d fallen in love with Gemma.

  Keeping her gaze fixed through the window, she fought back her cold panic by working out what to do next.

  First face reality, she told herself sternly. Although she loved Nick, she’d always sensed he didn’t—possibly couldn’t—return her love, and what she’d read of his affairs had reinforced that instinctive knowledge.

  If he suggested an affair, what on earth would she do?

  Her chin came up as she fought the slow creep of despair. Wanting more from him than he could give was not only futile, it was stupid and unfair. Nick had made no promises and demanded nothing from her.

  An affair would only reinforce this desperate unreturned love. Although the prospect cut her to the heart, she knew a quick clean break would be the least painful way to end this—this passionate interlude.

  Of course he might not want anything more from her.

  But if he did …? Did she have the courage to turn him down?

  Or should she surrender to her wildest urgings, take what she could from him and then live on memories for the rest of her life?

  “That’s a very determined look,” Nick said, his idle tone at variance with his keen scrutiny. “Plotting something?”

  Siena’s mind raced. “Getting back in touch with real life.” Hoping she didn’t sound too glib, she added with a shrug, “I should be working out tactics for landing a good job.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “Not a lot right now, because I’m still in holiday mode,” she said briskly. “Once I get back home I’ll apply myself to finding something that involves plants. One of the reasons I enjoyed working at the nursery was because I could help now and then with ideas for people who were planning their gardens.”

  “Perhaps you should have taken that landscaping course,” he said without emphasis. “Although a commerce degree would help if you do decide to go that way. You’ll do well whatever you choose. I can’t recall an instance when you didn’t reach a goal you’d set your mind on.”

  Her brows shot up. “What about the extra six inches in height I yearned for when I was fifteen?”

  A lazily amused smile curled his mouth. “I’m sure you knew it was never going to happen by then and were far too sensible to repine. Anyway, I can’t imagine you tall.”

  Siena’s wayward mind inconveniently flew to the complete security she’d felt when he carried her into the bedroom. Colour heated the sweep of her cheekbones.

  His eyes narrowed, and for a heart-shattering second she wondered if he too was remembering. It was a relief when the car stopped.

  “Oh, we’re here,” she said inanely. She felt as though she’d refused to take a chance, one that would never to be repeated—that something precious was lost to her forever.

  That wistful sense of loss stayed with her all through the flight.

  They landed in the middle of a glorious night in Auckland. The city’s notoriously fickle climate had turned on ideal weather to welcome her home, Siena thought bleakly as she watched the lights shimmer golden around the shores of the harbour, the decorated symmetry of the Sky Tower an emphatic exclamation point in the downtown area.

  The bustle of landing provided a charge of adrenalin, but it soon dissipated, and once she was safely ensconced in the car that had met them she leaned back and closed her eyes, far too conscious of the man who sat silently beside her.

  It seemed to take for ever to reach her parents’ home, and she was rather tense when the car that had met them drew to a stop.

  Opening her eyes, she stared through the window at the forecourt, then turned an astonished face to Nick.

  “This isn’t—”

  “We’re at my house,” he said calmly.

  She opened her mouth to ask why, then remembered the driver. Fortunately he got out and opened the boot, giving her the chance to demand, “What’s going on?”

  “It’s all right,” Nick said.

  Dumbly she watched him get out and walk around the car to open her door. When she didn’t move, he reached in, took her hand and helped her out rather more forcefully than necessary.

  She blinked as he let her go and turned to pick up her bag.

  “Come on.” His tone was clipped, almost curt.

  Later she’d think she had to be suffering some insidious form of jet-lag, because she obediently followed him into the house, dimly conscious of soft scents from his garden and the gentle hush of waves against the beach below.

  But once inside she listened to the car drawing away and took a deep breath. Losing her temper wasn’t going to help. “Why did you bring me here?” she asked, almost temperately.

  “Gemma’s back,” he said in an edged voice. “Did you really want to go to your parents’ place right now?”

  “How do you know?”

  “I rang from the airport.”

  She shook her head, trying to clear it. “It was my decision to make, not yours.”

  “In other words,” he said smoothly, his tone ironic, “you’re glad I made it for you.”

  The knowledge that he was right, that he must have seen straight through her bravado made her lash out. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a high-handed, bossy, domineering—”

  “Stop right there.”

  Startled at the curt note in his words, she stared at him.

  He gave her a hard half-smile, with an edge of self-mockery. “Dominating I’ll accept, but I’m not domineering and you know it.”

  Her already strained nerves twanged like guitar strings. “I can’t stay with you.”

  “Have you got a better idea?” he asked, more seriously. “You’re probably jet-lagged and in no fit state to talk to your sister now. If I know Gemma she’ll weep all over you and you’ll spend the night trying to comfort her. Stop being so staunch and give yourself a decent night’s sleep and a chance to draw breath before you tackle her.”

  He was right; exhaustion had sapped her strength, rendering both body and mind sluggish. Too much had happened in the past few days, and she was assailed by a bone-deep lethargy that demanded at least ten hours of oblivion.

  Stubbornly she reiterated, “You shouldn’t have made the decision for me.”

  He said impatiently, “All right, then, I shouldn’t. Now will you stop protesting?”

  Reluctantly yielding, she said, “Dominating is definitely correct. Just don’t think you can keep on doing it.”r />
  He picked up her pack and gave her a coolly speculative smile. “Come on, we’ll make up a bed for you. You look as though you’ve been through a wringer, and I could do with a few hours’ uninterrupted sleep myself.”

  As a rejection it was tactful, but very clear. And it hurt. Love shouldn’t hurt, she thought sombrely.

  The sooner she was out of here the better, but a sluggish inertia silenced her. Tomorrow, she promised herself—tomorrow she’d be able to deal with everything. Right then she craved sleep.

  Although Nick no longer spent much time in New Zealand, his house had none of the forlorn air of a place without inhabitants. A faint scent of lavender polish permeated the air, and on the hall table a large vase was radiant with summer flowers—roses, lushly opulent peonies from the South Island, and long scented stems of mock orange blossom, skilfully arranged.

  Rallying her chaotic thoughts into order, she flicked an upward glance and looked away again, hardly giving herself time to appreciate the arrogantly sculpted features that matched the aura of power Nick radiated.

  Fair-haired and blue-eyed, Adrian was conventionally handsome, but Nick’s bold face and lithe strength were supported and enhanced by an effortless presence that marked him out from other men. One glance was all it took to make his rapid rise entirely credible.

  At nineteen, armed with courage, tenacity and complete confidence in his own ability, he’d parlayed a brilliant idea into a huge internet success. Since then he’d gone from strength to strength, yet he’d never been seduced by either fame or fortune.

  “You can sleep in here,” he said, opening a door. “I’ll get sheets and towels.”

  He put the pack down on a chair and went out. Siena looked around the room, barely taking in its quiet, sophisticated charm. Struggling to control a bewildering jumble of emotions, she took refuge in action, pulling the covers from the bed.

  Only a few more minutes, she promised herself. Hold on for a few more minutes—and then you can let go.

  She seemed to have said that more than a few times recently.

  When Nick came back she said, “Thanks. I can do this now.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  She said unevenly, “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  He dumped the sheets on the bed and straightened. “Siena, look at me.”

  The last time he’d said that … No, she wasn’t going to let memories of their lovemaking overwhelm her. Shivers scudded the length of her spine, but she met his probing green scrutiny without flinching.

  “All right,” he said eventually. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

  Siena watched him leave, waiting until the door had closed firmly before wandering across the room. Coming to a halt in front of the dressing table, she peered at her reflection in the mirror with dull eyes.

  How could a few days create such turmoil in her life, turning it completely upside down, forcing her to reassess everything she’d done over the past few years?

  She hadn’t loved Adrian, not as he should be loved. Not as Gemma so clearly did.

  They’d been good friends before they’d become engaged, and she’d valued him for his honesty and his strength of character. She’d been happy when he’d proposed. Oh, she’d known it wasn’t the sort of fantasy love she’d read about in books, all trumpet calls and romantic music and soaring to the stars, but she’d not been looking for that.

  And now she understood why.

  Her mouth twisted into a small, bitter smile. Adrian had been a safe refuge, because long before she’d met him her heart had been given to Nick. It had escaped her control and surrendered to a man who’d never want it.

  She turned away and made the bed, then went through her nightly routine, but the sleep she so ardently wooed refused to come. After hearing a distant clock chime midnight she got up and pulled a light T-shirt and her jeans on over her pyjamas. If she didn’t walk off the thoughts that continually forced themselves on her she’d go mad.

  No such luck, she thought dismally as she slipped out of the door onto the terrace outside. Anyway, going mad wouldn’t help. Somehow, no matter how difficult it was, she’d have to find a way of dealing with her forlorn love.

  But right now she needed fresh air.

  She stood a moment, squinting until her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Unseen except for the glow in the sky to the west, the city slept in silence.

  Siena dragged in a deep, deep breath. Exquisite, exotic perfume drifted on the warm air from the huge white-velvet trumpet of datura hanging beneath an umbrella of large leaves, and the full moon turned the harbour into silver and black silk beneath the Milky Way, a girdle of diamonds across the indigo velvet sky. When she turned her head she saw the Southern Cross, a glittering pendant pointing southwards.

  Yet the peace she longed for evaded her. Making up her mind, she walked towards the cliff edge. Somewhere beneath the huge old trees a flight of steps led down to a small cove of white sand. She’d like to run for miles, run herself into exhaustion, but a walk along the little beach to the sleepy sibilance of the wavelets might help calm the turbulence of her mind.

  At the top of the cliff a small summerhouse had been built for Nick’s mother, carefully positioned to catch the summer dawn through the huge boughs of a sprawling sentinel pohutukawa. Darkly shaded, both tree and summerhouse looked almost sinister now. Telling herself not to be foolish, Siena stopped at the top of the flight of steps to peer down. As she’d guessed, the moon showed each level with perfect clarity and, just to make sure no one fell, a handrail bordered the steps on the seaward side.

  Without warning, she was grabbed from behind and hauled backwards. Wide-eyed and terrified, she opened her mouth but her scream was cut short by a hard hand. She struggled wildly in an unrelenting grip, shocked by the ruthless strength of the man who’d overpowered her.

  “Stop it, Siena.” Nick’s hard voice came like a shower of cold water.

  Her terror was transformed into fury and relief. She went rigid, whispering against his palm, “Let me go,” and sagged back against him when he dragged her back from the edge of the cliff.

  But he still didn’t let her go. Panting, she twisted futilely in his grip until he dropped the hand across her mouth and turned her.

  She closed her eyes, then forced them open again, still unable to believe what had happened. Glaring up into his face, its strong framework emphasised by moonlight, she demanded hoarsely, “What on earth are you doing?”

  Nick loosened his grip further. Relief surged through her—closely followed by a lick of heat that sent another shockwave along her nerves.

  Siena fought back the impulse to taste the indefinable sexy flavour lingering on her lips. It fired her senses and sent another unstoppable shiver through her.

  Mind whirling, she tried to step away. For a terrifying heartbeat she’d thought she was being attacked—and she was, but the assault came from within, a heady response that refused to be ignored.

  Nick had only to touch her and she wanted him.

  It took a massive effort of will to control the sensuous effect his clean male taste was still wreaking on her body and brain. Her chest expanded, dragging air into her famished lungs.

  Instantly his mouth covered hers, stopping any words with a kiss that sent her blood rocketing through her body and banished every thought from her brain in a flood of shameless pleasure.

  It was over too soon.

  No, too late.

  Too late because when he lifted his mouth she ached with emptiness. Slowly she raised heavy eyelids, peeping through lashes that had somehow drifted down while he was kissing her. It seemed to take ages for her star-dazzled eyes to adjust enough to make out the strongly marked features and the angular line of his jaw, the sensual curve of his mouth.

  Heat from that intoxicating hunger still lingered in every cell, transforming her from a woman in command of her life to an astonished, witless stranger.

  “What the hell were you doing?” Nick
demanded beneath his breath.

  She dragged in a sudden sharp breath. “I needed some fresh air. I was going down to the beach.”

  He seemed to relax, but his eyes never left her face while he said harshly, “From where I stood it looked as though you’d chosen the quick way to get down there.”

  When she stared at him in bewilderment, he added, “By throwing yourself over.”

  “No!”

  Swallowing, she tore her gaze away from Nick’s eyes, darkly unreadable in the bold contours of his face.

  His arms around her tightened, forcing her against his lean, powerful body. The renewed contact stirred that dismaying, disruptive heat into flames again.

  Siena’s throat muscles locked.

  In a voice pitched so low she had to struggle to hear him, Nick said, “I’m sorry I gave you such a fright, but, hell—for a stupid moment I thought you’d decided to take the easy way out of this damned imbroglio.”

  She drew in a shaking, hard-won breath. “You should know me better than that.”

  “I do.”

  Siena opened her mouth to speak, only to have the words crushed by the renewed pressure of Nick’s mouth. Astounded, she struggled against the drugging sensuousness his kiss provoked.

  Nicholas broke the carnal spell by lifting his head. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I need a drink.”

  Vainly Siena tried to rally common sense and fortitude. “But—”

  “But what?” Nick’s tone was back to his trademark cool neutrality.

  Mouth tautly controlled, she angled her chin. She couldn’t discern any emotion in his handsome face, and in the scented stillness they measured glances like swordsmen determining the perfect moment to attack.

  Until she asked, “What on earth made you think I’d be likely to try and kill myself?”

  He released her and, startled, she staggered a little. Instantly he steadied her.

  “I didn’t—I don’t,” he corrected bluntly. “But you looked—lost. As though your life had collapsed around you.”

  Struggling to regain some composure, she swallowed before managing to say in what sounded almost like her normal voice, “Even if it had, I wouldn’t do that.”