Roarke's Kingdom

By the time she opened the door, she’d dried her eyes and pasted a smile to her lips. But it wasn’t enough to fool him. She could see that in the way that he frowned when he saw her.

“You missed Susanna,” she said brightly. “I didn’t realize you’d be home this early. You should have phoned—I’d have kept her up for you.”

“Have you been crying?”

“Me? No. Of course not. I have allergies, that’s all. There must be something blooming that—”

“We have to talk.”

His voice was sharp, almost curt. It made her bite down on her bottom lip.

“Yes,” she said after a few seconds. “You’re right. We do.”

Roarke stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind him.

She drew a deep breath. “Roarke. I—I can’t stay here any longer.”

Color drained from his face. “I thought it was something like that.”

“I wish I could explain why I have to leave,” she said softly. “But I can’t.”

He laughed harshly. “Hell, what’s there to explain?” He brushed past her and walked to the French doors. “You’re unhappy here. I’ve known it for days.”

“No. No, it isn’t that.”

Roarke swung toward her, and her heart clenched when she saw the undisguised pain in his eyes.

“Don’t lie to me, dammit! Even a fool could tell you’re not happy.”

Let him believe what he wants, Jennifer told herself. What did it matter, as long as she left?

But then she looked into his eyes and she knew that she couldn’t let it happen this way. She had lied to him about too many things. She could not he about this.

“It has nothing to do with being here,” she said softly.

“I know it’s a hard way to live. You’re young. And beautiful. And there’s not much to do here—”

“You’re wrong. I love this island.”

“It’s a boring place.”

“Have I complained about being bored?”

“We’ll go to San Juan for an evening. Would you like that?”

“Roarke. Listen to me. I’m not bored. I don’t want to go to San Juan. The truth is I don’t much care if I never see a city again.”.”

“Is it spending so much time with Susanna? Maybe you need to be around people. Adults—What?” he said, when she rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“For the last time—I’m not bored. I don’t miss crowds or cities. And I love being with Susanna.”

“It’s me, then. You’re tired of being alone with me.”

Her eyes flew to his. He was watching her with an intensity that was almost like a caress.

Lie to him, she told herself, just lie…

“Is it?” He took a step toward her. “Jesus, is it being with me that’s making your eyes so dark with sorrow?”