Watching Teddie practically sprint away from the temple, he’d had to summon up every atom of willpower to stop himself from chasing after her and demanding that she agree to what was clearly the only possible course of action open to them. Despite his frustration at the relentless circular dynamics of their relationship, and her stubborn, illogical opposition, he’d held back.
He’d felt too angry. Not the cold, disbelieving anger he’d felt four years ago, when he’d returned to their apartment to find her gone, or even the gnawing, twisting fury at learning he was father to a three-year-old he’d never met.
No, his anger had been hot and tangled with fear—an explicable fear, not new but still nameless—and that had angered him further because he couldn’t control what he didn’t understand. He’d known that he needed time to cool off, so he’d forced himself to stand and watch her disappear, to wait until his heart beat more steadily. And then back at the villa, he’d made himself turn in before her.
Of course he hadn’t been able to sleep. His room still resonated with her presence from the night before. But even if it hadn’t, he would have been incapable of thinking about anything but her.
And it wasn’t just about the sex.
In a lot of ways that would have been easier, more straightforward. He gritted his teeth. But then nothing about Teddie was straightforward. She was an impossible to solve magic trick—thrilling and compelling and mystifying.
Look at her now. She might say she wanted to talk, but the expression on her face was an almost perfect hybrid of defiance and doubt, and he could sense that she was holding her body ready. Maybe ready to fight but, knowing Teddie, more likely ready to flee.
He felt the muscles of his face contract. He didn’t want to fight with her any more, and he certainly didn’t want to make her run.
Only, they couldn’t just stand here in the darkness for ever.
‘I don’t want to force this...’ He spoke carefully, willing her to hear his words as an invitation, not a trap. ‘So I’m going to go downstairs and sit by the pool. If you want to join me that’s great, and if not then I’ll see you in the morning.’
Outside, the air was slightly cooler and he breathed in deeply, trying to calm the thundering of his heart. Had he said enough to reassure her that they could survive this conversation?
He wasn’t sure, and as the silence stretched out into the night he was on the verge of turning and walking back into the villa. Then he saw her walking stiffly out onto the deck.
She stopped in front of him, close enough that he could see her eyes were the same colour as the wild pines that grew in the centre of the island, but not so close that she couldn’t bolt back into the darkness.
‘I don’t want to argue,’ he said after a moment.
She held his gaze. ‘And you’re saying I do?’
He held up his ha
nds. ‘No—that’s not what I meant. Look, Teddie, I’m not looking for a fight. I’m just trying to fix this.’
‘Fix what?’ She glanced up at him, and then away into the darkness. ‘Me? Us? Because I don’t need fixing, thank you very much, and there is no us.’
‘So what was last night about?’
‘Last night was about sex, Aristo.’
‘Not sex—passion,’ he said softly.
‘Whatever! It’s just chemistry, pheromones.’ She made her voice sound casual, even though her fingernails were digging into the palms of her hand. ‘That’s all.’
‘That’s all?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘You think last night was run of the mill?’
‘No, of course not.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not saying what we have isn’t special. I know it is—that’s why we’ve got this arrangement. So can’t we just enjoy it? Do we have to keep talking about marriage?’
A muscle flickered in his jawline. ‘Yes, we do. This “arrangement” works here, but it’s not practical long-term.’
‘Practical?’ She took a deep breath. ‘I thought we were talking about passion, not putting up some bookshelves.’
He gazed at her steadily, but she saw something flare in his dark eyes.
‘So how do you see it working, then, Teddie? Is it going to be sex in the afternoons, when George is at school? Are we going to have to get up early and move beds every time one of us sleeps over?’ His lip curled. ‘But I’m guessing you don’t even have a spare bed, so what will happen? Are you expecting me to sleep on the sofa?’
Her hands clenched into fists. ‘That’s the point. I’m not expecting anything. And you shouldn’t expect anything from me—particularly marriage.’
She might as well not have spoken. Even as she watched him searching through that handsome head of his for some new line of attack he was already speaking.