The weight of grief in that sad old villa had been hard enough for her to deal with, let alone him. It pained her to think he carried the burden of guilt—guilt that should never have been laid on his young child’s shoulders. She couldn’t stop thinking of him as a six-year-old boy—quiet, sensitive, intelligent, caring. How could his parents have put that awful yoke upon his young shoulders?
It was a terrible tragedy that his sister Rosie had gone missing. A heart-breaking, gut-wrenching tragedy that could not be resolved in any way now that would be healing. But his parents had been the adults. They’d been the ones with the responsibility to keep their children safe. It hadn’t been Leandro’s responsibility. Children could not be held accountable for doing what only an adult should do. Children as young as six were not reliable babysitters. Not even for two or three minutes. They were at the mercy of their immature impulses. It wasn’t fair to blame them for what was typical of that stage of childhood development. It wasn’t right to punish a child for simply being a child.
How much had Leandro suffered with that terrible burden? He had shouldered it on his own for all this time—twenty-seven years. He had stored it away deep inside him—unable to connect properly with people because of it. He always stood at the perimeter of social gatherings. He was set apart by the tragic secret he carried. He hadn’t even told her brothers about Rosie and yet he had asked Miranda to come here and help him with his father’s collection. What did that mean? Had it been an impulsive thing on his part? She had never thought of him as an impulsive man. He measured everything before he acted. He thought before he spoke. He considered things from every angle.
Why had he asked her?
Was it a subconscious desire on his part to connect? What sort of connection was he after? Could Jaz be right? Could he be after a more intimate connection? Was that why he was challenging her over her commitment to Mark? Making her face her convictions in the face of temptation—a temptation she had never felt quite like this before?
He thought her silly for staying true to her commitment to Mark. But then Leandro wasn’t known for longevity in relationships. He wasn’t quite the one-night-stand man her brother Jake was but she hadn’t heard of any relationship of Leandro’s lasting longer than a month or two. He moved around with work a lot which would make it difficult for him to settle. But even so she didn’t see him as the guy with a girl in every port.
Would Miranda’s time here with him help him to move past the tragedy of Rosie? Would he feel freer once his father’s things were packed up and sold? Once all this sadness was put away for good?
Once they were seated at their table with drinks in front of them Miranda took a covert look at him while he perused the menu. The sad memories from being in his little sister’s room were etched on his face. His dark-chocolate eyes looked tired and drawn, the two lines running either side of his mouth seemed deeper and his ever-present frown more firmly entrenched.
He looked up and his eyes meshed with hers, making something in her stomach trip like a foot missing a step. ‘Have you decided?’ he said.
Miranda had to work hard not to stare at his mouth. He had showered and shaved, yet the persistent stubble was evident along his jaw and around his well-shaped mouth. She had to curl her fingers into her palms to stop herself from reaching across the table to touch the peppered lean and tanned skin, to trace the sculptured line of his beautiful mouth. His thick hair was cut in a short no-nonsense style, although she could see a light sheen amongst the deep grooves where he had used some sort of hair product. Even with the distance of the table between them she could smell the hint of citrus and wood in his aftershave.
‘Um...’ She looked back at the menu, chewing on her lower lip. ‘I think I’ll have the coq au vin. You?’
He closed the menu with a definitive movement. ‘Same.’
Miranda took a tentative sip of her white wine. He had ordered one as well but he had so far not touched it. Did he avoid alcohol because of his father’s problems with it? Or was it just a part of his careful, keeping-control-at-all-times personality?
Self-discipline was something she admired in a man. Her father had always lacked it, which was more than obvious, given this latest debacle over his love child. But Leandro wasn’t the sort of man to be driven by impulse. He was responsible, mature and sensible. He was the sort of man people came to for help and advice. He was reliable and principled. Which made what had happened to him all the more tragic. How hard it must be for him to come back here to the place where it all began. His life had changed for ever. He carried that burden of guilt. It had defined him. Shaped him. And yet he had kept it to himself for all those years.