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CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEBOTTOMDROPPEDout of his world. He cursed himself to hell and back a hundred times over and even that wouldn’t be enough. That he had cowed this strong, powerful, incredible woman made him feel sick.
Nausea, anger, fear, resentment, they rose up in a noxious, heady substance that choked his throat and shattered his words.
‘You should neverhaveto beg, Evelyn. Can’t you see that?’
Another tear rolled down her cheek and he wasn’t even man enough to watch it. Coward that he was, he turned away from the pain he knew he was inflicting. But it was nothing compared to the damage she could feel in the future. Damage that he didn’t think he could fix this time. No amount of security or promises could heal this hurt. And that was why he couldn’t stay. He couldn’t.
Panic began to build in his chest. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to get out, to be away from this plane, away from her. He was angry, furious at himself for being so weak that he’d let this happen. He’d let this happen to another woman. But if he stopped this now, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad for her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad for himself.
‘It was just one night, Evelyn. That was what you asked for and that was all I could give you.’
Anger flashed in her eyes, an anger that covered an age-old hurt, one that he should have paid heed to, but couldn’t.
‘Don’t dismiss what we shared,’ Evie whispered.
‘And don’t make more of it than what it was like you do with everything else.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, paling even more though he’d thought it impossible.
‘You do this over and over again, Evie. You did it with my father and with the Queen of Iondorra.’
‘What are you talking about?’ she reared back, but he saw it—the fear of what he was about to say.
‘I’m talking about the fact that these people ruined you, Evie. They ruined your reputation. My father let you help him in his research, knowing that he could handle the backlash, but that you wouldn’t. The damage done to your reputation has been almost irrevocable and he left you with absolutely no support. And the Iondorran palace?’ he scoffed. ‘They not only stood back and let it happen, all the while knowing how probable your theories were, they then sent you on a treasure hunt, demanding your silence and refusing to change the negative press against you. And you are so desperate for love and acceptance that you would do anything for them!’
He hadn’t realised when he’d raised his voice, but the look on Evie’s features horrified him as much as the damage caused by his words. If he could have cut off his own tongue, he would have. That there was truth in his accusation made it all the more painful.
‘Desperate,’ she whispered to herself, nodding as if considering his words, but there was a jerkiness to her movements, as if she were back in the cave, wading through water. As if the ceiling had just come down around her ears. Then the nod became a shake, slow but more and more determined. ‘Not desperate, I don’t think.’ And this time when she looked up at him and the tear fell from the corner of her eye, she swept it away quickly and efficiently.
‘But thank you for your advice. On reflection, you’re right. I appreciate the reminder. Just one night.’ She nodded again. ‘It clearly is better that we leave this here. It wouldn’t have worked. Because the one thing I know I need—as you have taken great pains to point out,’ she said, the breath shuddering in her chest, ‘is someone who is emotionally available. And you are not,’ she said, shaking her head and twisting a knife lodged in his heart. ‘You’re just too much like him and the saddest thing is that you don’t even see it. Which makes you doomed to repeat his mistakes. And I won’t be one of those mistakes.’
‘Like who?’ he demanded, guilt and anger balancing on that knife’s edge.
‘Your father.’
‘I am nothing like that man,’ he spat. ‘He shirked his responsibilities...he did nothing while my mother moved us away and set up an entirely new life. I was the one who stepped up,’ he said, pointing a finger at his chest. ‘I was the one who made sure she was happy, that she was safe and cared for.’
‘You shouldn’t have had to do that, Mateo. You were a child. But you grew up burying your head in work—just like he did—so that you didn’t have to confront how you felt about it. Because it’s so much easier, Mateo, to lose yourself in work than to confront the painful and difficult feelings of loss and love.
‘But it’s worth it,’ she said on a half-plea. ‘It’s worth it to live a full life, not a half-life of hidden feelings and buried anger. It’s worth it, andI’mworth it, and until you see that...’ she took a breath, the constellation of emotions in her eyes for once unreadable ‘...I don’t want to see you ever again.’
Her words wounded him so deeply he was struck silent, utterly incapable of speech. It was only when Evelyn unbuckled her belt that he realised they had come in to land. She barely met the gaze that was unwillingly glued to her every movement as she stood and retrieved the briefcase she always had with her.
‘Wait,’ he said, the word bursting from his mouth like a bullet.
She paused as she passed by the seat he occupied, her eyes straight ahead. He reached into his pocket for the object he’d been carrying ever since they left the cave. He had always intended to give it to her but suddenly he didn’t want to, knowing that it may very well be the last time he saw her. It sat in the centre of his closed fist, warmed by his body and sharp to his skin.
‘When they ask for proof—’
‘I don’t have any proof,’ she said, her words clipped and somehow more devastating than before.
‘Give them this,’ he said, holding out his hand to reveal a red gemstone surrounded by pearls, set in a gold band.
She stared at his hand so long, he thought she might ignore it, ignore him, but while she was staring at the ring he was staring at her, so he saw the moment that the sob worked its way up her body. He knew she’d recognised it, the same way he’d recognised it, from the photograph of his father standing beside the life-sized portrait of Isabella of Iondorra, with the ring gifted to her on her first appearance at court proudly worn on her left hand.
It was more than proof, and more than a reminder of his father, and more than he could put words to. Inexplicably he wanted her to say something, he wanted to say something. He wanted to take the last ten minutes back, he wanted to be different. He wanted to be the man she needed, but she was right. He was frightened of being responsible for his own feelings, and he had hidden his weaknesses behind hurt-filled accusations of her failings as if his weren’t so much worse. And just as he opened his mouth to say something she plucked the ring from his palm and took one step forward, then another, and he realised she was walking out of his life and that he needed to let her go.
