Secrets of Sin (22 page)

Reinier turned from her, watching the flow of the water in the pool again. “I know how much your parents loved you, and it might be difficult to understand. Not every childhood is as blessed as yours was. From my earliest memory my father chose not to deal with my mother’s overbearing ways, and that meant not dealing with my older brother and me either. He left that totally up to my mother, who was only ever concerned with my brother, the heir.”

That certain emphasis on the last word made Emiline frown. He was so charming and likable when he wanted to be, she couldn’t imagine his mother not loving him as many others did. “I’m sure you were a beautiful, amiable child. How could she have ignored you?”

“My mother always hated me for having more pleasing looks and manners than my brother. She all but forbade me from excelling above him in any way. If I ever did better with our studies or ran faster or acted with better comportment in public, I was scolded for my arrogance and for not knowing my lower place in this world. As I got older, I found I could charm the servants into going against her wishes.

“My brother was to be betrothed to a distant cousin of the Danish royal family. It was on our trip to Møn when I stood on top of the cliffs and marveled at the deep emerald waves crashing against the Møns Klint hundreds of feet below. I was wondering aloud if the water looked like that everywhere in the world. Mother realized my strong attraction to the mysteries of the sea. That was when she found a way to be rid of me for her and my brother’s sake. She shipped me off as quickly as she could.”

If Emiline had known this, she could have at the very least understood him a little more. “You never told me.”

“It didn’t matter. I was past it.” His nonchalant shrug couldn’t fool her one bit.

It was one more piece in the puzzle that was Reinier, yet it still didn’t answer the bigger question burning in her chest. “That doesn’t explain why you left me.”

“Is it so hard to see? The more time we spent together and the more I cared for you, the more I was convinced it could never work. I knew nothing of estates, knew nothing of how to be a good husband or father. I felt I could either stay and disappoint you and watch your feelings grow colder and wither away when I wasn’t the perfect man for your perfect plan, or I could walk away before it ever came to that.”

Emiline gasped. It was as if a curtain had been pushed open wider and she saw the whole stage now. Reinier had always been at the mercy of another holding him back—first his mother, then his captain. She understood what a responsibility Bougainvilla was; to him it must have felt like any choice was taken away and replaced by someone else’s plans once more.

And Reinier had loved her, he’d admitted as much, yet he’d feared for his own heart. As much as it still hurt, she could see his side now—see the man he truly was and what had made him that way. She knew now that as much as she loved him, he would never be happy if he stayed here on Ronde.

But there was still something else she had to know before the papers were signed and he’d set sail once again. “I think I can see now what might have led you to think you couldn’t be happy here but…what about Connor?”

“Yes? What about him?”

Emiline hesitated but then softly spoke the one question that had been burning brightest at her for four years. “What did he have that made you stay with him instead of me?”

The idea of words as weapons suddenly became extremely clear to Reinier. Her question felt as if it flayed him. Had she spent all those years wondering what she lacked, doubting herself when the truth was she was more than he deserved?

Reinier turned to her and took her face in both his hands. For the first time he let all his emotions show in his eyes while he gazed into the sea-colored depths of hers. “There is nothing Connor has or had that can ever compare to you.”

“Then why?”

Reinier saw her lower lip begin to shake. He leaned in and gave it a quick, gentle kiss. Taking her into his arms, he held her to him tightly while stroking her hair and running a soothing hand up and down her back. “Because I was a coward and it was the easy way out. Connor is my truest friend. We ask nothing of each other outside of business matters. I could have as disappointing a character as possible and Connor would still have me, but you…you deserve so much more than that. I was afraid that you didn’t return my love, true, but most of all I was afraid I’d never be able to be the man you ought to have.”

Emiline pulled back, bracing her hands on his arms to look into his eyes again. “But you were the man I cared for. I didn’t need you to be anything more than that.”

Reinier shook his head with a sad laugh, reaching for her hands and taking them in his. “Oh, I know you didn’t. You’ve done a wonderful job with the estate. I see now that you didn’t need me for that at all.”

She looked down at their joined hands before she spoke again. “I did need you. I wanted you, but I managed. I managed because I was left no choice.” She looked up, searching his face. “People are often capable of much more than they give themselves credit for, Reinier.”

After all he’d done to her, she still believed in him. Another bit of his heart was lashed open. “You’re not just capable, you’re amazing. You haven’t just kept things going, you’ve improved on them in ways I don’t think a man would have ever thought of. You were born to rule Bougainvilla, Emiline, better than anyone else ever could.”

She beamed a little at his praise, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Reinier, all that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have used a partner to share that with. But despite everything, I do love it here, the place and the people and the business part of it. It’s become more precious to me than anything.”

Her words thundered in his head. He’d come to this island meaning to torment her just like she’d made him suffer all those years ago and he’d proposed that bargain for his own self-centered purposes. Pride had made him believe he could elude her charms. What an enormous fool he’d been. It was his own feelings he couldn’t escape.

Although his heart would be in shreds once again, Reinier knew what he had to do. He must sign the papers.

“Then you should have it. It will all be rightfully yours alone so no one can ever take that away from you.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Reinier leaned in and kissed her, exploring every inch of her mouth with his own, memorizing every nuance and texture. He would give her anything she wanted and walk away. He had no right to be here.

R
einier had only been here for three days, but it seemed much longer. He waved an inquisitive mosquito off his right ear, listening to the excited bustle of waves washing against the piles underneath his feet as they rose to the evening tide. Behind a few feathery clouds the sun was beginning to set, glimmering in shades of magenta and purple. Countless times he’d watched dusk settle, yet sunset still took his breath away.

Heels clicked on the rough planks of the wharf and Reinier turned to see Connor walking slowly up to him. He looked very much like a rugged pirate in his black breeches and black linen shirt. Connor always preferred dark colors where Reinier enjoyed lighter tones. What a pair they’d made, Reinier thought, and his lips twitched into a brief smile at the fleeting melancholy. He didn’t move, though. He just stood at the wharf, his eyes back on the horizon, and let Connor come to him.

From the corner of his eye, Reinier saw that he, too, watched in silence as the sun was slowly swallowed up by the sea.

“You’re not coming with me, I suppose.” Connor spoke low, his words a whisper on the brackish evening breeze.

Reinier shook his head, then turned fully to him. A heavy silence stretched between them.

“There has never been a lover.” Reinier was just stating facts; there was no accusation.

Connor pressed his lips together to hide the grin that was clearly sparkling in his eyes. “No, I admit I deliberately misled you. Otherwise, you’d have never come back here.”

The Irishman had known what had been unsettling his soul even before Reinier himself had. Even so, the future was still uncertain. Still, Reinier was thankful for both his friend’s boldness and prudence, but above all for his honesty now.

“There’s somewhere you should go. Someone you should see again.”

Connor raised his eyebrows in confusion and Reinier smirked. He’d seen the longing on the Irishman’s face. Connor was thinking of her and he wasn’t sure whether he should welcome it. But the Irishman and the Irishwoman belonged together.

“She’ll be waiting for you.”

Connor huffed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Although you’re thinking of her all the time and yearn to see her again?”

Connor kicked the jagged remains of a lonely shell over the brink of the wharf back into the sea.

“If you’re so reluctant to go back to her, I wonder what it would take to make you see her again.” Reinier raised an eyebrow as the thought struck him. An eye for an eye. It was just a very little white lie…“Perhaps if I told you that you were her first…would that be enough incentive?”

At that, Connor’s head snapped up. His brows furrowed, the muscles in his cheeks jumped, and a fuming inferno was burning in his midnight blue eyes. “That is a damn lie and we both know it,” Connor pressed out between clenched teeth.

Licking his lips, Reinier suppressed the bark of laughter. “Well, technically,” he reminded him, “you lied to me, while I simply hid the truth from you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Reinier gave a casual shrug and held his right hand up, palm out, fingers closed. He looked at it, studying it as if he’d never seen it before. Then he parted his index and middle fingers only, looked at Connor, and asked with mock innocence in his voice, “Do you think my hand is big enough to cover such a secret?”

He saw the memory flash in Connor’s eyes. It made his sapphire eyes burn even brighter. Taking a step toward Reinier, who only grinned broadly and raised his hands in surrender, Connor hissed, “You devious—”

“Now, now. No need to get nasty with me. Technically speaking, you were her first. I saw her half-torn hymen. But her honor hadn’t really been ruined before…an impertinent Irishman seduced her.”

Connor let out a very irritated growl. “Just me, was it?”

Reinier shrugged with one shoulder only, wicked delight on his face. “Maybe I had a small hand in it as well—no pun intended, of course.”

The full impact of this news hit and Reinier watched all color drain from Connor’s face. His mouth went slack, his jaw almost dropping.

“What you make of this piece of information is up to you,” he murmured just loud enough that Connor heard him.

The possible consequences—honor and the lack thereof or losing it—were probably rolling around in Connor’s mind. In a way, Reinier was glad he wouldn’t be around when the Irishman came to a decision. His mood would be one he didn’t want to witness, not even from afar.

To ensure he was on the right island when that happened, Reinier nudged him a little more in the right direction. “The breeze has pitched. I assume you’ll have a quick passage back to Grenada.” Reinier held out his hand for Connor to shake it. “Godspeed, my friend.”

Their eyes met and more than unspoken words passed between them. When they parted, Connor bowed to him one last time.

“Supper will commence momentarily,” the young maid told Reinier on entering the mansion. “The mistress asked me to tell you she will join you soon.”

Reinier absentmindedly waved his hand in her direction. “I find myself not very hungry this evening. Will you tell her I’ll be waiting for her in the study?”

“Very well, sir.” The maid’s quick curtsy was accompanied by a timid nod.

Reinier walked straight into the study. Closing the door behind him and leaning against it, he shut his eyes and inhaled deeply. Here he was again at Bougainvilla, making the hardest decision in his life. He’d thought leaving her had been awful already, but this was even worse.

All his attempts to bind her to him stemmed from loving her, but he knew now that truly loving her meant giving her her heart’s desire. And if that meant breaking his own heart, then so be it. He’d carry on like he always had.

Instead of strolling aimlessly around the chamber like he had a few nights before in search for clues what it would take to make good on his promise to seduce her, he went directly to the mahogany secretary. Lowering the writing surface and working the locks of the drawer, he took out the divorce papers. He opened them and, still standing, read them once more. But soon the letters blurred before his eyes and all he saw were images of the past few days.

Emiline’s demeanor spitting hatred at him. Emiline’s body quivering as she climaxed again in his arms. Emiline’s breathtaking, contagious smile. Emiline’s indifference. And finally, when he let her see inside his soul and she let him have a glimpse of hers…

Those deep wounds he’d inflicted would never heal. Emiline’s defeat squeezed his heart so much it robbed him of breath.

What was done couldn’t be undone. He was past lamenting his tortured heart. He was over trying to punish her for what she’d done to him. She couldn’t be blamed. It was him and him alone who had done this to her, to him—to them.

For once, he wouldn’t act selfishly. He’d end this here and now. Tonight, not tomorrow morning, he’d sign the papers, and should she wish it, he’d leave for good.

Reinier could continue to try and convince himself he could carry on as he had before, but deep down he knew his heart would never recover if she expected him to disappear and never come back again.

“Reinier.”

He almost failed to hear her when she spoke. Emiline had come into the study so silently he hadn’t been aware of it. Carefully ridding his face of any treacherous emotions, he put the parchment in his hands down and looked up.

Her white dress was so magnificent it made her bright eyes shine. She looked as if she wore angelic light itself.

“The maid said you were waiting for me here.” Her voice was flat, belying her squared shoulders and thrust-up chin. “So, here I am.”

“Yes.” Swallowing a sigh, Reinier reached for the small box that contained the quill and inkpot. “I have decided that this farce has gone on long enough.”

He took out the quill and inspected its point. Judging it too worn down for a clear signature, he grabbed the penknife and began to lengthen the quill’s split and the open tube. “If Bougainvilla and this divorce is everything you want, then you shall have it.” Reshaping the tines and the tip, Reinier continued, “I’m going to end this bargain here and now. I’ll sign the papers.”

The penknife was back in the box and he twirled the quill briefly, thinking. Taking the sharp implement to scrape the parchment, he erased the generous sum she’d suggested. “I won’t accept the money you offer, though. I’ve got plenty of my own.”

Reinier then opened the papers to the last page, grasped the quill, and flipped the lid of the inkpot open with the tip of his middle finger.

Finally, he looked up at her. She was blanching and her chest heaving with quick breaths, her eyes round and liquid. She was probably worried he could change his mind or that this would be another devious scheme he’d thought up. But she’d be wrong in her assumptions.

“No need to panic, Emiline. I won’t reconsider this. Your well-being is what matters to me, and if that entails being rid of me, then so be it.” He attempted an awkward smile, then stared at the inkpot before him and hesitated.

He loved her. But it didn’t change where they were now. He had to set her free; it was the only possible solution to their failed marriage. How could he make her see he truly loved her otherwise?

Life would never be the same for him. It would be poor and petty. He’d be an empty shell in a waking nightmare, because each and every day he’d know what he’d lost. But knowing she was better off without him gave him the courage to grab the quill harder, bringing it closer to the ink bottle.

Emiline leaped forward. The sudden commotion stunned him. She reached for the inkpot and closed it with a swift flick of her wrist.

Bewildered, Reinier glanced up at her. Her breath had pitched even more and she moistened her lips with a small flick of her tongue.

“Don’t.”

“I’m sorry?” Reinier was too numb and too puzzled to understand.

“Don’t sign the papers, Reinier.”

“But—”

Emiline wasn’t aware she’d been holding her breath until the very moment when her lungs began to burn, doubling the fierce, rapid staccato of her heart beating in her chest.

“I thought you wanted me to sign them. I thought you wanted to be rid of me? Isn’t…isn’t that what you wanted?”

Much to her chagrin she didn’t know the answer to Reinier’s perplexed outburst; she didn’t even know if there was just one answer.

“Yes.” She meant it, she did, but she didn’t want it to end like this. “No,” she corrected herself, frowning at her own puzzling reply.

“Yes? No? Which is it?”

Reinier’s befuddlement wasn’t supportive. The pungent aftertaste of resentment in his words made it even harder. The situation now was even more awkward than it had been before.

What had she done? An independent woman for so long now, she’d relied on reason as her sole guide; but suddenly she’d let go of all that common sense and logic, thrown her precious practicality to the wind, and stayed his hand.

How could she explain what wasn’t even clear to her?

Letting the quill drop, Reinier crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her, the cream silk of his frock tightening around his shoulders despite its immaculate tailoring. His face was blank but for one eyebrow slightly raised.

Emiline caressed the stomacher she wore just where it met the rim of her dress, the knobs of the flowery pattern wobbling in her palm. The ache didn’t dull and the aggravated blows of her heart didn’t stop either.

“I don’t know. In the beginning I did, but…now I’m not so certain. I mean—” With a crestfallen sigh, Emiline turned away from him.

“You have no idea what it’s like, what it feels like—” She curled the hand over her heart into a fist. “Here. Inside. When I see you looking out at the sea with so much affection…Like it’s the most important thing in your life—a position I thought I’d petitioned for when we married.”

“Emiline, I—”

“No, please. Do not interrupt me.” She wouldn’t hide, not now. This moment was too important to waste it behind pretense.

Turning, she faced him. “You are brusque and arrogant with your exalted airs and your fancy clothes, Reinier, but you’re also caring and brilliant and ever charming.”

His mouth went rigid and he thrust his chin up a little. Despair had her voice diminish to a weak whisper. “I understand now. I do. We’ll never have the kind of marriage my parents had. You will never be a man to stay in one place for long. It’s not in you. You need your freedom.”

“But—”

This time, Emiline raised her hand, palm out, to silence his objection. “I know it’s unreasonable and illogical and against everything I know is good or right for me, but—God help me—I love you, Reinier. I love you with all my heart. Despite your flaws.”

Walking around him, Emiline grabbed the divorce papers and carried them to the cold fireplace. She held one corner of the parchment into the flame of a flickering candle on the mantel and knelt down by the grate, watching what she’d imagined to be a bright and independent future sputter and curl until it blackened under the hissing fire’s assault.

Looking back at Reinier, she saw him standing as if rooted to the rug, his spine rigid like the trunk of a tree, his amazing lime and golden eyes blinking with leashed emotions she couldn’t decipher.

Was this where he’d wanted her all along?

It didn’t matter. Not anymore. She’d bared her soul to him and she’d made her decision final. The fuming cackle of the papers being reduced to soot before her proved it.

Bracing herself on her knees, she got up and walked toward him. “Please go and come back whenever you choose to. Know that you’ll always be welcome here. This is your home. Our home. Just…” Her voice broke.

Even though he made her feel alive like she’d never before thought was possible, Emiline had to give him freedom or else he would never return at all. She would never have what it took to hold him.

Averting her eyes, Emiline half turned, ready to walk out of the study, ready to give him the kind of freedom he craved whether it broke her heart or not. “Just don’t let it be too long until the next time you return. That’s all I ask.”