The Spiral Path (55 page)

He overestimated her. "Since we're
being honest, why did you marry me in the first place? And why did you suddenly
decide it had been a mistake after three years?"

"When we met and clicked so well, I
... I didn't want to let you go. Even though I knew marriage wouldn't work for
me, I decided to hell with logic." He shrugged. "You've probably
noticed that I spend a lot more time in my right brain than the left."

"What went wrong?" she asked,
fighting the tears that threatened to spill over. "I thought we were
getting along well. Did you get bored?"

"Remember that phone call where you
raised the subject of children? Even though you tried to make a joke of it, I
realized how much you wanted a baby. Until then, I'd thought you were as
uninterested in having a family as I was, and probably for the same reasons.
When I saw that I was wrong, I knew our marriage had to end."

Her jaw dropped. Looking back, it was
blindingly obvious. "So you succumbed to Angie Greene's bountiful
charms."

"You may not believe this, but I
never had sex with her."

She thought of her surprise visit to
Crete, and the way Angie had been climbing all over him. "You're right, I
have trouble believing that."

"I was certainly considering it.
She was more than willing, but I wasn't interested--it was you I was missing.
You popped into my trailer just as I was trying to decide whether to go through
with it. I knew an affair would end our marriage, but it was such a ... a cruel,
vulgar solution. When you showed up and jumped to the obvious conclusion, it
was too good an opportunity to pass up. It also spared me from having to
actually sleep with Angie. I was rather relieved."

She didn't know whether to laugh or
weep. "Why didn't you just come out and say you don't want children? I
suspected that from your reaction, and after some soul searching I decided I
could live without them. But you never gave me a choice. Did you think females
are such hopeless breeding machines that I'd want a baby more than you?"

He smiled without humor. "No, I
thought you'd be loyal to our marriage--and live to regret it. By the time you
left, it might be too late for you to have children."

She stared at him. "So you decided
to destroy our marriage for my own good? You arrogant bastard!"

"That did sound arrogant," he
agreed. "Tell me how wrong I was."

She hesitated, furious but unable to say
he'd been entirely wrong. "You were right that I wouldn't have divorced
you over the issue of children, but leaving you was not inevitable. Isn't it
possible we could have stayed together and lived reasonably happily ever
after?"

"In a marriage where neither of us
once dared to say that we loved the other?" he said gently. "The end
was just a matter of time."

She was as shocked as if he'd slapped
her. No, love was never mentioned. There had been occasions when they were at
their closest that she'd come near to saying she loved him, but she couldn't
bring herself to do it when she was unsure what he felt for her. She knew he
liked and desired her, but she wasn't at all sure she was loved. "You ...
noticed," she managed to say.

"I noticed. Though I'm hardly an
expert on emotional intimacy, I understand that it's impossible without a
willingness to be vulnerable. We let our barriers down with each other a
little--you more than I. But we were both too wary to reveal much." He
stopped pacing to regard her with compassionate eyes. "You're less damaged
than I, Rainey, but you won't be able to overcome your fears and find the love
you deserve unless you're with a man who's healthier and braver than I."

She knotted herself into a fetal
position, shaken by how well he understood her. He saw himself, and her, with
no illusions. It had taken Sarah Masterson, fictional Victorian maiden, to make
her recognize that she'd never fully committed to her marriage. Raine Marlowe,
thoroughly modern woman, had always had one hand on the doorknob.

Everything had changed in the tumultuous
hours since they'd stepped out of Charles Winfield's memorial service. It was
time to be brutally honest about what she wanted from Kenzie, and for herself.

The answer to the first was blindingly
clear: She wanted him with her always as lover and husband. Today he'd revealed
more of himself than in the four years they'd known each other. Surely the fact
that he'd acted out of concern for her showed a kind of love, even if he
couldn't bring himself to say the words?

As for her--she wanted to have the
courage to make a commitment, no matter what the risks. She wanted to live life
as passionately as Clementine, but with more wisdom. She wanted to be able to
smash the defenses she'd hidden behind her whole life.

That meant handing Kenzie her heart, even
if he threw it right back at her. "I can't deny that I have fears, Kenzie,
but I ... I do love you. Enough to marry you even when I was sure it couldn't
last. Enough, finally, to say so out loud."

She uncoiled herself from her seat and
crossed the cabin to him. "And I think that maybe you love me, too,
because you did what you thought best for me even though you were wrong. If we
love each other in our own battered, defensive way, isn't that a foundation for
building a future?"

"It's too late, Rainey." His
voice was raw with anguish. "Maybe we could have continued indefinitely
the way we did for three years with a relationship that was limited, but
rewarding within those limits. Not now. The illusion that was Kenzie Scott has
been shattered, and the pieces can't be put back together again."

She placed one hand on his shoulder, her
gaze searching. "Learning about your past hasn't changed how I feel,
except that I love and respect you more than ever. The last weeks have been
hard on both of us, but maybe now we have a chance to build the kind of
marriage that will last for as long as we both shall live."

In his eyes she saw despair, but also a
terrible longing. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.

For an instant he responded, his hand
sliding down her arm. She leaned into him, amazed at the power of a simple kiss
when it was made with love. How could she have been willing to let him go
without a fight? She felt her shields crumbling, her bruised spirit slowly
opening to allow him in.

He grabbed her arms and pushed her away.
His breathing was harsh, and despair had won the battle for his soul.
"This won't
work,
Rainey!"

He swung away and headed for the rest
room in the rear of the plane. After the door closed, she heard sounds of
violent retching.

Shaking, she sank into a seat. She
wanted to believe that he was ill because of too much alcohol and not enough
food. Instead, she thought of the wedding night scene between Sarah and her new
husband. Kenzie had come up with that powerful bit of business where Randall
had become ill, torn by the conflict between the abuse he'd suffered in
captivity, and the reality of the young bride he idolized.

She felt ill herself now that she knew
Kenzie's idea had come from his own experience. No wonder he believed their
marriage couldn't go on. For over twenty years he'd managed to function by
suppressing the horrors of his childhood. He'd become a master of detachment,
sublimating his emotions into his acting, and doing it brilliantly.

But that was no longer possible. Nigel
Stone had destroyed the defenses that had enabled Kenzie to function.

Now the horrors that had shaped him were
free to ravage his soul.

After
Kenzie spilled his guts, in every sense of the word, he and Rainey hardly spoke
for the rest of the trip. They went through customs and refueled in New York,
then flew on to New Mexico in almost absolute silence. Rainey had spent most of
that flight sleeping, curled in a ball on the bed.

He'd been tempted to open the bar and
drink himself senseless, but his stomach churned at the thought. Instead, he
summoned the attendant who'd been exiled to the front of the plane during the
transatlantic flight, and asked for food. Though he'd been unable to eat much,
at least his hands were no longer shaking.

Like a homing pigeon, he yearned for
Cibola. Odd, considering he'd never spent so much as a single night there. Yet
those wild acres represented sanctuary.

It was near dusk when they landed at a
private resort airstrip not far from the ranch. A wide-eyed young man told
Kenzie that his rental vehicle was ready. Rainey must have arranged it by telephone.

Kenzie signed the paperwork and accepted
the keys, then went outside and found that Rainey's luggage had been loaded
into the SUV along with his. He pulled out the nearest of her suitcases.
"Careless of them to transfer all the baggage."

"They didn't make a mistake."
She scowled at him. "I'm going with you."

He stared, startled and not sure whether
he was glad or sorry. She probably thought he'd self-destruct if left to his
own devices. "Don't be ridiculous. In London, you said several times how
much you wanted to go home. That jet can have you there in a couple of
hours."

"Home is where the heart is."

Her meaning was unmistakable. He felt
yearning so sharp he could taste it. If only it were that simple. But she
didn't understand. How could she? "You've got months of high-intensity
post-production work ahead of you, and that means Los Angeles."

"I need a vacation," she said.
"Even God took a day off after creating the world, and my stamina is way
less than His."

"Rainey..."

She glared like an angry cat, pulling
her
Centurion
jacket tight as cool mountain wind gusted around them.
"Unless you use physical force, I'm coming with you."

He closed his eyes, feeling his pulse
hammering in his temples. Did she want him to spell out that the kiss she'd
given him, and the arousal he'd felt, had triggered unbearable images of forced
sex? For years he'd been able to bury those memories in his worst nightmares,
but no longer. The evil genie had escaped its bottle, and it was an open
question whether Kenzie would ever be able to bear having sex again, with
anyone. "Proximity isn't going to fix me or our marriage, Rainey."

She sighed, her belligerence fading.
"You're not the only one who understands human nature, my dear. I've been
thinking about what you've said. I can't really know what it's like to be you,
but I've accepted that it would take a miracle to salvage our marriage, and I
don't believe in miracles. But give me an honest answer here. You've been all
honorable and noble, pushing me away for my own good. Forget being noble. Would
you rather have me around for a few days, or not?"

When he hesitated, she said tartly,
"The truth, Kenzie."

The truth? She'd have to return to
California soon to begin the immense task of editing and scoring the raw
footage into a finished movie. But for the next few days... "It would be
nice to have you at Cibola, Rainey. Just ... don't expect much of me."

"I don't. Most of the reason for
going is to have a few days of relaxation a long way from La La Land." She
eyed the car keys in his hand. "Are you up for driving, or should I?"

"The alcohol has burned off." He opened the passenger door. "Last chance to change your mind and be
reasonable."

She smiled as she climbed in. "How
often does either of those things happen?"