Treasured Secrets (18 page)

Rosalina resisted the urge to pull back. To make him suffer was an option that entered her mind. She shrugged. ‘You never asked.'

‘But how would I know to ask? Your home is an ancient palace; your family grows wine. These are things you should've mentioned.'

‘You never seemed interested.'

His eyes glazed and his shoulders sagged. He squeezed her hand and then let go. The room darkened with their mood. ‘Rosa, the things I didn't talk about were horrifying. I tried to erase them from my memory. But these aspects of your life are fun, interesting. I want to know everything about you.'

‘It's too late, Archer. You had your chance. For three years I tried to get to know you; you not only made it impossible, but you also never showed any interest in discovering the true me. I can see that now. Before I was blind, but now I can see our relationship was incomplete.'

‘No, Rosa. Don't say that. We had the most beautiful, amazing thing. I blew it. It was me, and my stupid idea that I could handle everything. I know now I was wrong. I want you. I need you.'

Her heart crumbled into more tiny little pieces. ‘It's not that easy now, Archer. I was young and naïve when we met. I've done a lot of growing up since I left you and I won't settle for anything less than perfect anymore.'

‘I know…I know and I'm sorry. I was holding back, but now I'm ready. I'm an idiot for wasting years by not seeing that everything I wanted was right in front of me.'

Rosalina shook her head, resisting the urge to crumble into his arms. ‘I'm just not ready, Arch.' She drained her coffee and took a step towards the stairs.

He rubbed his face and sighed. ‘Okay. But don't cut me out altogether. I've changed, Rosa, and I want to show you.'

Rosalina wanted to believe him. But he needed to prove himself first. ‘I'm not going to commit to anything right now. I need time. Okay?'

He nodded. His eyes reflected his disappointment. It was a look she'd learnt to recognise, though it was usually directed at workmen rather than her.

‘Do you still want to see the rest of the house?'

‘Of course.' He reached for her hand and his fingers again interlocked with hers. ‘Where to next?'

‘How about the ballroom?'

‘You have a ballroom?'

‘Well, it was a ballroom once. Last time I saw it, it was being used for storage. But it's still beautiful.'

‘You really have been keeping things from me.'

‘Ha, very funny.'

A gallery of paintings led the way up the two flights of stairs. Rosalina had no idea why her stomach twisted tighter with each step upward but suspected Archer, who still clutched her hand behind her, and his declaration that he'd changed, was the reason. She wanted to believe him, but he had to do more than just say it — she needed to see the proof first.

It'd been several years since she'd stepped into the ballroom, and she wished someone had taken the time to restore it to its original glory, but she didn't hold much hope for that miracle. Grasping onto that little ray of hope, she pushed on the double doors. The sun filtered through three full-length casement windows, welcoming them into the grand room. A fine layer of dust covered the once highly-polished floor and in the far corner, next to the ornate fireplace, several pieces of furniture were covered in white sheets. She was pleased to see their numbers hadn't multiplied since she was last here.

Paintings of exotic birds and flowers adorned the vaulted ceiling and Rosalina was ashamed that such an amazing room had become nothing more than storage space.

Archer strolled to the middle of the room and paused beneath the elegant glass chandelier. He turned, his hand reaching for her. ‘May I have this dance?'

Rosalina palmed her chest, just above her heart. ‘You dance?'

‘Allow me to show you.' His dimples punctuated his cheeks.

‘Archer Mahoney, you really are a mystery.'

Archer held a pose, right foot forward, right arm high, silently willing her to step into his embrace. She stepped up to him and reached for his raised hand. Her heart missed a beat when he placed his other hand on the small of her back and drew her to him. Their eyes met. What she saw in those dark eyes, the raw sexual tension dazzling across the surface was enough to make her knees weaken. But he clutched her to his body, and when they moved, it was like two pieces of a puzzle finding their perfect places.

She'd seen him at work many times, manhandling heavy objects with brute efficiency, but right now, despite his rugged athletic build and their hips anchored together, he glided her across the floor with surprising elegance. Rosalina didn't know the tune he hummed but she recognised the four-step beat to his smooth footwork. She felt as if she were floating on air.

Archer drew her closer and stepped to lower her in a gentle dip. She dropped her head back and his hot breath teased her throat. A delicious shiver tantalized her skin as he touched her cheek. She looked up at him. The golden halos around his dark irises were pure electricity in this light. They appeared almost magical. He was staring at her mouth. Oh God, she wanted him to kiss her.

It was the slow motion that had her mesmerised as inch-by-inch he pulled her towards him. His tongue flicked out over his lips. Every ounce of her wanted him. To kiss him. To hold him. To make wild, passionate love to him. But her sanity finally kicked into gear and she took control by placing her hand on his chest. She pushed to her feet and cleared her throat as she stepped back. ‘You really can dance.'

The dazzle in his eyes vanished in a flash and his shoulders, so strong and proud during the dance, sagged. ‘My mum would've loved this room.'

Rosalina froze. Rarely did he speak of his mother, and never with any fondness.

‘She loved Trompe l'oeil paintings.' He glanced up at the decorated ceiling. ‘These are magnificent.'

‘You know this style of art.'

‘Mum would point them out all the time.'

Rosalina wanted to know more. So much more. Archer never spoke of his parents. ‘Did your mum dance?'

‘As a matter of fact, she taught ballroom dancing. But my father dragged us all over the world hunting for treasure, so she had to give it up. We often spent months at sea. Sometimes, when I was bored out of my brain, I'd let Mum teach me a few moves.'

‘Careful, Archer. You're showing me a whole side of you I didn't know existed.'

‘I've learnt my lesson. You can ask me anything.'

‘Anything?'

‘Anything.' He led Rosalina to the window and she tugged off a white sheet that covered the bay seat and allowed it to crumple to the floor. She sat on the overstuffed cushion and admired the view down the tree-lined driveway.

Archer sat beside her and placed his hand on her knee, drawing her attention back to him. ‘Anything, Rosa. I promise.' His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

‘Okay.' A vision of yesterday's madness flashed into her mind. ‘I saw you knock a man off his feet with one punch yesterday. Where'd you learn to fight like that?'

Archer slunk back ever so slightly, but then he caught himself. She could almost hear his mind working his mouth into action. It was a long pause before his Adam's apple moved again, as if he were swallowing a huge lump of regret. Finally, he spoke. ‘After Mum and Dad died, I was bounced from orphanages to foster carers like a football.' He inhaled and reached for her hand. ‘There were some dark times when I had to fight for my life.'

‘Oh Archer, I never knew.'

‘Well, how could you? I'm not proud of some of the things I did.'

‘You were a kid, all alone. You did what you had to.'

‘I created some of those problems. I was angry at everything and everyone.'

She was falling for him again and wasn't sure she wanted to stop. ‘It's understandable, after what happened.'

His eyes lowered. ‘The authorities were just trying to help. I made their lives hell.' Rosalina was beginning to believe that just maybe he was a changed man after all.

She waited until their eyes met. His eyes had darkened, shadowing his past memories like a cloak. ‘You were a child, Arch. All alone.'

His lips drew into a thin line, accentuating his dimples, but he refrained from speaking. His childhood had festered into an angry memory, and she could see him chewing over his bottled-up secrets.

He squeezed her hand. ‘I'm going after the treasure, Rosa. Will you come with me?' His eyebrows drilled into a frown with the request and his eyes pierced hers with their intensity.

Rosalina cupped her mouth while she rolled the idea around in her mind. This challenge would make or break their relationship. Exactly what they needed. She dropped her hand. ‘I'll think about it, okay?'

He nodded. ‘Jimmy's bringing
Evangeline
to the Greek Islands —'

‘The Greek Islands? I thought you didn't know where to look?' She recalled the torture she'd suffered because he hadn't told her the details. Without thinking, she brought her fingers up to touch her sore eye.

‘I don't, exactly.'

‘You're being cryptic again.'

He sighed deeply. ‘After Dad's…
accident
, I spent months recovering in an Athens hospital. So although I'm not sure which island we were diving off, it must've been the Greek Islands.' He reached for the pendant. ‘There are more than six thousand islands to choose from, but I assume one of them has their graves.'

‘Oh, Arch.' Rosalina reached for his hand again. ‘You don't know where they're buried?'

He shrugged. ‘I guess I was told at some point, but I don't remember.'

‘Don't you have any paperwork?'

‘I was given some.' He lowered his eyes. ‘I burned it all a long time ago.'

She blinked at him, dismayed by his actions.

‘Don't look at me like that. I was angry. I hated my mother.' He drove his fingers through his hair. ‘She abandoned me.'

‘She didn't abandon you.'

‘Hell yes, she did. She blamed me for Dad's death and never forgave me. Then she left.'

‘Archer, she —' Rosalina didn't know what to say. No words were appropriate to express the horror Archer and his family had suffered all those years ago.

‘I was still in hospital when Dad was buried. When Mum died, I wasn't allowed to go to her funeral either.'

His clenched fists forced the knuckles to bulge large and white through his tanned skin. She placed her hand on top of his and it was a long moment before he unfurled the tension and rolled his hand over. Their palms met and Rosalina entwined her fingers within his.

‘So I was in a strange country, unable to speak the language. I knew nobody and I was shuffled from one authority to another until they decided what to do with me.'

‘You can't blame your mother.' Rosalina cupped his cheek, drawing his eyes to hers. ‘She was hurting and fell into a downwards spiral she couldn't get out of.'

‘Mum couldn't live without Dad. It was love that killed her.'

Brother Nox stepped into his bedroom, shut the door and slid the bolt into place. Within seconds, Shadow was weaving his way around Nox's ankles. The silver-grey Chartreux had an uncanny way of knowing exactly when Nox would walk through his bedroom door. ‘I'll get to you in a moment, Shadow.' Nox resisted the urge to pick the cat up.

A sliver of sun penetrated the split in the curtain, creating a line that ran across the stone floor and up the wall. The beam crossed over a large glass tank, dividing it in half. The vision wasn't lost on him. He already kept the mushroom-filled tank divided.

Half of the mushrooms were known for their hallucinogenic properties. The other half was as deadly as poison. To the untrained eye the mushrooms looked identical: small, brown and sticky. The wood-rotting funguses preferred decaying conifers, and over the years he had perfected their germination by maintaining his room as a dark, humid space. The rotten smell almost masked his body odour. Almost. It also ensured nobody ventured into his room. Exactly how he liked it.

He closed his eyes and reached into the tank to pluck two mushrooms at random, one from each end. Then he tossed them around in his hands before dropping them onto his desk. It was a little game he performed almost daily. A test. Mushroom Russian roulette. If he chose correctly he would experience mild hallucinations for an hour or so. But if he chose poorly, he would most likely spend the afternoon in the bathroom with diarrhoea and vomiting. One mushroom would only cause mild symptoms, good or bad, but he resisted the urge to have more today. He needed to maintain control.

Of course, after years of experience he could usually tell the almost identical mushrooms apart, but he was still caught out on the odd occasion. With the decision made, he flicked one of the mushrooms across the table and tossed the other into his mouth. He chewed on the meaty fungus with tingling anticipation, then followed it with half a glass of red wine. A few drops trickled down the glass stem as he placed it back upon the table. The drip stain would add to all the others dotted over the dark wood.

He turned towards his bed and gently shoved the cat aside to tug on his mattress. When it was half off the frame, he removed a few planks of wood and reached into the void. He fingered a dozen or so metal boxes until he located the one he wanted, removed it and carried it to the table.

The brass latches were no longer the shiny metal that had caught his eye several decades ago. After unclipping them, he lifted the lid and smirked at his creative foresight. Finally it looked like his years of meticulous planning were going to pay off. The box contained a small notebook, much like the ones sold in all the tourist shops at the Vatican City. The pope smiled up at him from the cover. Nox flicked through the dozen or so pages, allowing a scramble of details to flash past. He stopped at the page with a list of names and numbers. To anyone else, this list meant nothing, but to Nox it highlighted his detailed planning. His eyes fell on his father's name; beside it was the number 17.