Secret Garden (9 page)

She would have no control with him, which wasn’t good for her peace of mind. And yet... “I wonder what would have happened between us if I’d never been kidnapped,” she mused aloud.

Malcolm made a strangled noise.

“I’m sorry,” she said. She and her brother rarely spoke of the kidnapping; it was their unspoken pact. Malcolm had never forgiven himself for what he thought he’d let happen to her when she was eight years old. “It’s not your fault,” she reassured him. “It never was. You were ten years old. You were traumatized yourself.”

“I wasn’t left alone with those monsters for all that time,” Malcolm bit out. “You were.”

She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly to banish the memory. “Never mind,” she said quietly. “It’s finished. But I have to talk with Colin because I have to say
something
about his dad. He’s obviously quite broken up.”

She didn’t have a choice about facing him. Once, he’d been her friend. And even if he hadn’t been, wouldn’t her mother have done so, too, if she were here?

That was what the lady of the manor
did
.

Her hands shaking, she took a deep breath and headed for the stairs, descending with as much grace as she could muster.

When he saw her, Colin rose to his feet. Her cat jumped from his lap and crouched beneath the table, staring warily at Rhiannon. But he’d had his reward—an empty, licked-clean saucer on the floor told the tale of Colin’s generosity to his namesake.

Rhiannon would have laughed if not for Colin’s presence. He stood with a looming charisma that she couldn’t ignore; he had a tall, rangy body, with a rugged masculinity about him that destroyed her composure.

“Rhiannon,” he murmured, in a deep, husky voice.

Nobody
spoke her name that way. A long, lazy breath of longing, of desire.

She didn’t know how she dared to keep her gaze on him. She wished she could have studied him from behind a one-way mirror. That way she could look at him to her heart’s content, without worrying about being touched or seen.

He smiled at her, seemingly entranced. His lips moved. So...erotic...and so dangerous, and yet she couldn’t turn away. She’d forgotten that she was wearing her painting smock. Well-worn denim, old and comfortable—it was essentially a halter top that she didn’t need to wear a bra with. It was a weird quirk of hers—she had so many weird quirks, it seemed—but Rhiannon hated wearing a bra when she painted; she preferred to be comfortable. Usually, no one saw her, so she wasn’t concerned about the fact that she showed...well, cleavage. Possibly the outlines of everything she had.

Her face felt warm, and she imagined she’d turned a conspicuous shade of crimson. But she managed to calmly fold her hands and speak gently. “Hello, Colin. Thank you for the roses and the note. They were lovely, though not necessary.”

“Yeah, they were.” Colin dragged his hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry about this morning. I won’t let that happen again.” He gazed into her eyes, directly.

He had such remarkable eyes—she’d forgotten how light they were, more blue or gray depending on the shirt he wore. He wasn’t the blond towhead he’d been as a boy. Now his hair was a rich medium brown streaked slightly with gold.

“Do you forgive me?” he asked.

She gave him a smile, though her heart was hammering. “Yes. Of course I do.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He exhaled. “It, uh, feels good to see you again.” His gaze darted to the top of the stairs, and he licked his lips as he tore his attention from her, glancing around at the castle furnishings. “I missed this place. It meant a lot to me as a boy, and I never forgot it.” He looked back at her, pleading with his eyes. “I couldn’t come back. It got too difficult with my father.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said gently. “I know.”

Behind her the floor creaked, and she realized that Malcolm was standing there, monitoring their every word. Paul stood quietly by, as well, her sentry.

Colin subtly shook his head at her. He was bothered by the other men’s presence. As children, she and Colin had their private signals. It seemed they were picking up where they’d left off, just like that.

He moved closer to her, and her heartbeat quickened. In a low voice, he said, “Can we go somewhere and talk? How about if we grab a coffee in the village? I’d love to catch up on what you’ve been doing.”

But that was impossible, of course. And she was sure now that Colin didn’t know her secret. She stiffened.

“Rhiannon?” He tilted his head. “Is something wrong?”

She was aware of Malcolm, clearing his throat behind her on the stairs, but she spoke over him, focusing only on Colin. “No.” She smiled as best she could. “Though thank you for your invitation. And I’m sorry for your loss. I’ll be sure to phone Jessie to give my condolences. I’m sorry for you all.”

That was the very best she could do.

Her knees shaking, and feeling immensely saddened, Rhiannon turned. Without looking at Colin’s face, she headed back up the stairs. Though he said nothing more, she could feel his pain and confusion.

It was excruciating to her.

* * *

C
OLIN STARED AT
Rhiannon’s retreating back. Something
was
wrong. She’d just turned him down flat and he wasn’t sure why, though he could guess.

He’d been an idiot. First, by staring down her top when she’d come down the stairs. He hadn’t been trying to—he’d been doing his damnedest to keep his eyes on her face, but the outline of her breasts was stamped on his mind. Earlier this morning she’d been wrapped up in a raincoat and her face covered with a hood. Now he could more clearly see her. She wasn’t little Rhiannon anymore—she was a woman and she was even more beautiful than he’d realized at first.

It hadn’t been his original plan, but he felt overcome by the need to talk to her again, away from the castle. Away from the people who watched them—her protective older brother and their butler. It was true Colin was only here for the weekend, for his dad’s funeral—and he hated the lump in his throat that thought brought him—but he’d just wanted to be alone with Rhiannon and find out what had happened to her over the years. Get to know her again, maybe renew their friendship.

God knew, he needed a friend here. Especially now, three days before his father’s funeral, back with his grandparents for the first time in over twenty years, and he hadn’t been doing so well with Jamie.

“Wait a minute, Rhiannon,” he called up the stairs after her. “Can we start over? I’m sorry I messed this up. I really would like to hear about what you’ve been doing.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn. She seemed to be wavering.

On impulse, he climbed the stairs two at a time until he stopped on the landing beside her.
Their
landing. Though the stairway had been rerouted, this was the spot where they’d once eavesdropped through a screen together as his world fell apart, all those years ago.

Malcolm stared down at him quizzically, as if he couldn’t believe what Colin was doing. Colin knew it was sort of crazy to have chased her like this. But—ah, hell
—
she knew him. Or at least she had once.

He stood beside her, close enough to see faint smudges of paint on the shoulder of her denim top. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just grabbed at the first thing that came to mind.

“Jessie tells me you’re a painter,” he said in a low voice, well aware that Malcolm was still scowling down at him from the top of the stairs. But Malcolm didn’t know about the intimacy of their past friendship. Rhiannon did. “I think it’s amazing. I saw your landscape in her living room, and I could tell exactly where on the estate you painted it from.”

Rhiannon slowly gazed up at him. “I really can’t go with you,” she murmured. Her voice was extremely quiet and serious and...sad. She wrung her hands, giving away an inner turmoil. Maybe she just didn’t trust him.

“Is it because I scared you this morning? Well, I promise to be on my best behavior. How about if we go someplace where there are other people around? You can choose the venue. I’ll go anywhere you want.”

She paled. “No.”

He paused. “Okay.” That was as flat a rejection as she could give him. This had obviously been a mistake. He tried to cover by giving her a carefree grin, but it fell flat. Colin couldn’t remember the last time he’d made somebody else feel awkward and uncomfortable, and it sucked—this wasn’t like him. “Never mind. I’m leaving Sunday night anyway.”

She sighed, sadly looking at him. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s...no problem.”

“I do wish you all the best.”

“Thanks, that’s...how I feel, too.” He flashed her a grin. But he had the strong feeling that she didn’t think he was worth the effort. That somehow, he’d missed the mark. A sickening shame that just being himself wasn’t good enough.

Before he left Rhiannon, he couldn’t help glancing around the landing where they stood, the place where the screen had once been. He’d most remembered this feeling when he’d been a kid in this place, when his father had left him and it had been clearly stated what was wrong with Colin.

Without looking back, he headed down the stairs. He had to get out of here.

“It isn’t
you
, Colin.” Rhiannon’s voice rang clearly behind him. “It’s
me
. I’m the one with agoraphobia.”

He stopped short. Turned. She looked so beautiful standing there above him, and so sad. “What’s agoraphobia?”

“It means...that I have to...that I like to stay secluded.”

Secluded?
Rhiannon?

But that made no sense to him. He remembered the vibrant girl she’d been. Rhiannon had always been a fearsome adventurer, a playmate wielding a sword of her own. Nothing back then had made her retreat.

He looked at her, confused. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. He had nothing light to say, for once.

With dignity, she nodded at him. “That’s why I can’t be at the funeral. Or go anywhere with you to catch up. All I can do is wish you a good visit with your grandparents. They’re among my favorite people on earth, and they love you. No matter what happens, please be kind to them.”

“
Why
are you agoraphobic, Rhiannon?” he blurted.

Her eyes widened. He got the feeling she was shocked he’d asked, as if no one ever questioned her.

Malcolm stomped down the stairs and stopped behind his sister, his arms folded. “Enough,” he growled at Colin. “It’s time for you to leave.”

But Rhiannon wasn’t cowed. With a look at her brother, she subtly shook her head, signaling Malcolm to stand down. “I’ll explain to Colin what happened. He deserves to know.”

“Rhi,” Malcolm said, exasperated, “you don’t have to explain anything to anyone. You can just tell him to leave. You don’t have to put up with this.”

“I
want
to tell him,” she answered.

She took a deep breath, and Colin could see the effort it cost her to face him again. Malcolm was clearly unhappy, staring at Colin with hooded eyes as if he wanted to toss him out the front door on his ass.

But Rhiannon clasped her hands in front of her and looked directly at Colin. “Shortly after you left that last time, Malcolm and I were kidnapped and held hostage for eleven days.”

Colin felt his mouth drop open. Kidnapped
?

Rhiannon?

That was horrible.

How did it happen?
he wondered, sickened.
And what did they do to her?

But he didn’t want to show too much emotion about it. It had obviously traumatized her so much already.

Why the hell hadn’t anyone told him?

Because he’d been back in America with his mom. And his mom wouldn’t have known, either—back then, news didn’t travel across the Atlantic quite as easily as it did today. That was in the days before the internet.

He shook his head. “Rhi, I’m really sorry. I am. I wish I’d known.”

“Thank you. But I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to remember me as I was.”

“I do remember.” He smiled at her. “You were always so brave.”

“Well.” She licked her lips and looked down. “Now I’m reclusive.” She started to turn again.

“Wait,” he said. “When you say reclusive, what exactly does that mean?”

“Colin, I swear to you,” Malcolm began.

Colin ignored him, focusing on Rhiannon. “Because... I think I can work with reclusive. I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

She dipped her head and gazed warily at him.

“For example,” Colin said, “what if I set it up so that nobody else but us was at the restaurant? Would you get in a car and go there if I could guarantee that nobody else would be there? Or what if I brought you on a horse? You used to love horses.”

Rhiannon’s mouth seemed to be twitching.

“Of course she’s not going to get in a car,” Malcolm said, irritated. “You’re missing the point, Colin.”

“I’m having a conversation with Rhiannon.
That’s
the point.”

Rhiannon was really smiling now. “My brother is upset,” she murmured to Colin, “because you don’t understand how things are.”

“Then explain it to me so I do,” Colin said.

Rhiannon rubbed her lips. “Well, let me put it this way. I need to stay on the castle grounds, in the company of a few people I trust. It’s how I choose to live, and it works for me. I’m happy with it, Colin. Truly, I am.”

Then why did she seem so sad? “I don’t believe you. How can you can be happy with it if you can’t leave the grounds? Does that mean you’re tied to this one place forever?”

There was a general expression of shock on her face. Obviously, he’d trampled on forbidden territory. But in his opinion, she didn’t deserve to be locked away.

“I get panic attacks,” Rhiannon said, regrouping. “Staying on the property and controlling my interactions with other people is how I manage that. It’s how I prevent getting panic attacks, which is the worst thing that can happen to me. Can you understand that?”

He snapped his fingers. “Were you having a panic attack when I hit you with my golf ball and broke your camera?”

A strangled noise came from Malcolm, but Rhiannon shook her head at her brother. She smiled at Colin, her gaze a steady, a taut line that went from one to another. They still had that connection; it hadn’t been broken yet.