Hidden in a Whisper (14 page)

“But I'm not alone,” he replied softly. “For you are here.”

Rachel shook her head, then squeezed out the water from her long, curly hair. “But I shall not linger.”

She tried not to notice the look of disappointment on his face, nor how marvelous he looked in the dim lamplight. He stood fully clothed but more casual than she was used to seeing him. His shirt, usually buttoned and secured with a necktie, was daringly open, while his sleeves were turned up. She glanced around him and noticed there was no sign of a suit coat anywhere.

“You hardly look ready for a swim,” she finally managed.

“It doesn't take that much time to disrobe,” he said, grinning.

Rachel felt her cheeks grow warm. “I shall bid you good-evening and give you over to your own preparations.”

“Rachel, don't go.”

She ignored him and turned to walk away, but he called after her in such a pleading tone that she had to stop.

“Please.”

The richness of his voice and the desperation in that simple word forced her to turn back around. She looked at him for a moment, unable to find words to berate him with for delaying her departure. His sandy hair fell forward across his brow, leaving her with a strong desire to push it back into place. But it was the intensity and pleading of his stare that fixed her to the spot. How could she not stay? How could she not remember the time they'd shared so long ago? She could almost remember what it was like to be in his arms—to laugh at his stories—to tremble at his spoken words of love.

“Rachel, I know you've been avoiding me,” he said softly. “I know it was a shock to see me turn up here after so many years. But now that it's happened, now that we're both here, couldn't we at least discuss the matter?”

“I don't know,” she answered plainly. Trepidation coursed through her like white-hot fire.

“Why?” he asked, taking a couple of steps toward her.

Rachel clutched the lapel of her robe. “I don't think it would be wise.”

“Again, I must ask—why?”

Rachel swallowed hard. “There's no sense in dredging up the past.”

“In our case, I would beg to differ. Our past has never been resolved. You never allowed me a chance to defend myself, and I'm asking for that chance now.”

Rachel considered his words for a moment. She supposed it was only fair to allow the man to speak his mind after six years. It was true enough that she'd denied him any real chance to counter her accusations. But if she let him talk now, she might have to face her fears. Fears that suggested she had been wrong six years ago and that by her own hand she had ended any chance she had for happiness.

“All I'm asking is that you give me a chance to speak,” Braeden said, stopping directly in front of her.

Rachel nodded. “Very well. Speak.”

“Thank you. I know you're afraid of what I have to say, but I honestly think it will be better for both of us in the long run.”

She had no idea how that could possibly be the case, but she nodded and tried to steel herself inside for whatever declaration was to come.

“You never let me defend myself six years ago. You refused my proposal based on the inaccuracies you'd been told, and you never allowed yourself to trust in me. I suppose our love was rather immature to have to weather such an intense storm, but I believed in you and I thought you believed in me.”

She said nothing. How could she? It was so hard to admit that she had given up her trust in him with a few well-intended words of warning. “I was at the hotel that day, as your mother's friends revealed. I was even in the company of a beautiful young woman, and yes, I was headed up the grand staircase with my arm around her. But she wasn't my mistress or my new lady love. She was, however, the daughter of a dear friend whom I was scheduled to meet that afternoon at the hotel. She had just given me the news of her impending wedding and …” He paused, seeming to search for the right words. “I told her of our own plans—of the ring I'd just purchased for you. We were congratulating each other, and she was accompanying me to meet her father.”

Rachel felt the blood drain from her head. Hadn't she already presumed it to be something innocent and misunderstood? Hadn't she already condemned herself for allowing hearsay to be the final word on a matter of such importance? But she had loved her mother dearly and had been confident that her mother would never do anything to harm her. Even given Elvira Taylor's penchant toward gossip, Rachel couldn't believe her mother would ever pass judgment on something so important without anything more than the supposition of her friends.

Braeden reached out to touch her cheek. “I did nothing wrong. I couldn't have betrayed you.”

Rachel found it impossible to admit that she knew of his innocence. She could hardly stand the thought of what she'd done. She had lost six years of happiness with the only man whom she would ever love. And perhaps she had lost future years, as well, for why should he find any reason to believe in her now?

She bit nervously at her lip and looked away. “So how have you been all these years? Did you … that is to say … you said you never married?”

When he didn't answer her right away, Rachel forced herself to look back at him. His expression seemed pained, and he appeared to be considering her words with great thought.

“No, I didn't marry,” he finally replied, as if deciding she deserved an answer after all.

“Oh,” she said, trying desperately to sound neutral on the matter.

He smiled ever so slightly. “Don't you want to know why?”

Rachel did indeed want to know the answer to that question, but she wasn't about to ask it. “I suppose,” she said slowly, “that is a rather private matter. It's really none of my business.”

Braeden took hold of her hand. “It is very much your business, Rachel. I never married because I have loved only one woman.” He paused and looked deep into her eyes. “And that woman is you. It's always been you. It will always be only you.”

Rachel felt her knees begin to tremble. Shaking from head to toe, she pulled away and walked to the archway. She couldn't think. Her mind flooded with the wonder of the declaration he'd just made, but she couldn't force herself to form a coherent thought.

“Rachel, you must believe me,” Braeden said, coming up behind her.

“Yoo-hoo!” The voice of Ivy Brooks carried lyrically on the night air.

Rachel felt herself tense. It didn't look good to be seen here alone with Braeden, much less to have him standing so close to her.

“Oh, there you are, Mr. Parker,” Ivy declared.

Rachel whirled on her heel. Ivy approached them wearing a scandalously short bathing suit with bloomers but no stockings.

“I received your note,” Ivy fairly purred the words as she batted her eyelashes.

Her sultry words and scandalous apparel were enough to cause Rachel to believe the worst. Had it all been a lie? A carefully plotted and contrived scene for her benefit? Had Braeden decided to hurt her as badly as she'd hurt him by pretending to still care? Then, once she gave in to her feelings for him, he'd have Ivy appear poolside at just the right moment to plunge the knife into her dream of reconciliation?

She shuddered and moved past Braeden and Ivy and headed up the walkway.
I have to get away from here
, she thought. No matter what the real reason was for Ivy's appearance, Rachel felt extremely vulnerable.

I can't believe I almost admitted my love for him
. The image of him laughing in her face caused tears to come to Rachel's eyes. Simone might have thought injured pride was a nominal price to pay, but at this moment Rachel felt it unbearable.

“Rachel, wait!” Braeden called after her while Ivy's lyrical laughter filled the night air. “Rachel, it's not what you think!”

It pained her to think he might have duped her. The thought of him setting her up in order to crush her once and for all was enough to cause tears to wet her cheeks. Just then she remembered her towel and book. Only it wasn't her book—it belonged to the resort, and she couldn't just leave it outside exposed to the elements. She would have to stop and retrieve it, but that meant going back and dealing with Braeden and Ivy.

She stopped midstep and realized that she had to go back for more reasons than the book and towel. If she allowed them to drive her away, she would never have any control over Ivy and she'd never, ever be able to face Braeden again. She wiped her face and drew a deep breath.
God, give me the strength to face them
.

Slowly she marched back to the pool just as Ivy let out a shriek while Braeden wrapped his arms around her. Rachel stopped for a moment and watched them. She tried to make herself believe that it didn't affect her. That it meant nothing. But in truth, it cut her to the core.

Braeden's gaze locked with hers. “She lost her footing,” he tried to explain, setting Ivy upright on the walk.

“A girl could certainly lose a great many things around you, Mr. Parker,” Ivy said seductively before glancing over her shoulder at Rachel and adding, “Her heart for one.”

“I forgot my book and towel,” Rachel stated very calmly. Her fac
ade of strength was back in place, and she refused to allow either of them to know the true emotion of her heart. She gingerly moved across the now wet stones, retrieved her book, and made her way back to the open archway. “Do not forget your curfew, Miss Brooks,” she stated stiffly.

She looked briefly at Braeden, saw his expression of pleading, but refused to say anything more. She felt overwhelmed by confusion and anguish. There was nothing she could say.

Blinded by tears, Rachel made her way back to her quarters. She clutched the book to her damp robe as though it could somehow offer her strength to deal with the pain inside her. She wanted to believe Braeden's words—believe that he still loved her. But why should he? After the way she had acted, why should he care?

Once inside her room, she quickly changed her clothes, then fell across her bed, sobbing.
I've ruined it all now. He'll never want to see me again. He'll believe me unworthy of his trust, and perhaps he is right. I am so fickle and silly. How could I have acted like that?

Such thoughts only made her cry harder. All of her life she had only been made to feel special by two people. One was Braeden, the other was her father. Now both were lost to her.

Her words tainted with pain and regret, she looked up and asked, “God, what have I done? Why did I act like such a child?”

  
TEN
  

“WELL, AS I SEE IT,” Rachel said, beginning the meeting, “we're right on schedule. There are some minor problems, but I feel confident we can deal with these issues before the grand opening.” She watched as Braeden eased back in his desk chair, grateful that the management meeting had been held in his office instead of hers. This way, when all was said and done, she could quickly exit before anything became too personal.