“I’man enigma?” She looked up at him with a smile. “I’ve been trying without success to figure you out since day one. I think I’m pretty much an open book.”
He shook his head. “No. You’re not.” He scanned her face, his fingers tracing her cheekbones, nose and lips, marveling at their delicate contours, the softness of her skin and the kiss that had been so much more than he’d imagined—and he’d imagined a lot. “The more I get to know you, the more I realize there is that I don’t understand. You’re open and trusting and yet… I don’t know. There’s a shadow there.
“Shadow?” She grunted. “You’re imagining things.”
“I have no imagination. You should know that about me by now. No, like back there, in Christchurch, when you’d finished your painting and you realized you were alone, that look of panic on your face. What was that about?”
“Me, panicked? Surely not?” She tried to move out from his embrace, but he held onto her hand.
“Yes, you were. You looked… scared almost. Afraid to meet me on your own?”
She looked up at him with a serious expression, which wiped the encouraging smile from his face.
“No, it was nothing to do with you.”
“Then why so scared to be on your own at four thirty on a winter’s afternoon in central Christchurch?”
Her smile fell away and pain like a shadow fell over it. She swallowed. “I was sixteen when it happened.”
A feeling of dread slid through him. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach. “What?” he barely whispered.
“I met a boy in Christchurch. Just a boy. A lad. A young man in ripped jeans with long hair and a guitar. And I went back to his house.” She shrugged.
“What happened?”
She sucked in a breath and he could see that it was hard for her to continue. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually tell people.”
“It’s okay. Take your time.”
He took hold of her hands in his and swept his thumbs across them, trying to give her the reassurance and strength it appeared she needed. She smiled and looked at him with such trust that anything that remained of his hardened heart melted.
“He must have spiked my drink. I don’t really know. Everything is so hazy.”
“When did it stop being hazy?”
“It took five days for me to come round.”
“And no one came for you?”
“No one knew I was there. He must have forgotten to top up the drugs one time, and I came around.” Her eyes darkened with fear as she remembered the moment. “And I escaped. The police found me wandering the streets, and took me home. I’ve hardly left there since. Not wanted to. And I only ever visit Christchurch during the day, and I stick to the places I know.” She shrugged. “Scared, I guess.”
He swore softly under his breath at the thought of this beautiful soul being subjected to the worst kind of violence against a woman. He felt pain in his whole being, from the tip of his fingers to his gut to his chest—everything ached with an unfamiliar pain. He wanted to shout out his anger and frustration that such a thing could happen to someone like Amber—could happen to anyone, but especially the trusting and vulnerable Amber. She was too good for this world, and he wanted to make sure nothing like that happened to her again.
But it was, wasn’t it? He had entered her life with the sole purpose of using her to make her stop her peaceful protests, which were proving so disruptive to his development of the building. But he knew, now, that that would have to stop. The building be damned. He’d do anything not to hurt Amber, anything to keep her safe and happy.
He pulled her to him and held her tight against his chest. He placed his cheek against her hair and felt her breath against his chest, her hands moving tentatively around his back, her fingers splaying and pulling him tighter to her. He’d felt an instant connection, despite their very obvious differences, when he’d first seen her. And that connection had deepened with every subsequent meeting. For the first time ever he both wanted her physically—wanted to kiss every square inch of that beautiful pale skin of hers, and her slender limbs, wanted to make love to her—and wanted to connect with her emotionally. But he could do neither until he’d cleared up the mess he’d created for himself. And then, he promised himself, he’d begin again with Amber. But he wouldn’t leave without a demonstration of his intent.
He pulled away and gently cupped her face. “I’m so sorry you had to experience something like that. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Amber with a smile.
Maybe, he thought, but he was as guilty as sin for how he’d planned to use her. But that was the past, he told himself firmly. “I promise you that I’ll never let anything like that happen to you again.”
She shook her head, her beautiful hair shifting beneath his hands. “No. That’s what my family try to do—keep me close, keep me safe—but I need to be myself, I need to live and breath and feel free.”
“But how free are you when you won’t travel, you won’t experience things outside your small world?”
“It’s not small. I have all my people here. All the people I love. It feels huge.”
