Page 65 of Once an Angel
Why didn't she cry? Why didn't she throw herself at his feet and beg him to stay? Her damnable pride was tearing him apart. A fierce regret touched him. He should have taken her last night, forged the bond between them that much stronger. What a joy it would have been to return to find her splashing through the waves, rosy and plump with his child!
"I shouldn't be gone for more than a few months. I'm leaving Perifeld with you."
"You can't. You'd break his heart. He'd never forgive you if he missed a shopping expedition to Fleet Street. Trini can look in on me if you'd like, but I'm really quite good at looking after myself."
He snorted. "This from a woman who fell off a boat in the middle of the Tasman Sea?"
She shrugged. "I tripped over my boot lace."
His shoulders slumped in helpless laughter. "Christ, Em, what am I going to do without you?" Aching
with longing, he reached to fold her in his arms.
She backed away, her dark eyes aflame with the dangerous sparkle of tears. "Please, don't. I detest good-byes."
With those words she spun around and fled the hut, leaving him to gaze at the barren table and wonder how she could have swept his heart so empty with a single careless stroke.
* * *
Emily stood alone on the bluff, gazing out to sea. Her fingers trailed absently over the blunt peak of the wooden cross.
The sun's splintered rays bathed her face in warmth. She closed her eyes. The wind raked her with
tender fingers, fresh and pure like a melody never to be heard by any ears but her own. Its beauty made her ache. But when she opened her eyes they felt as dry and barren as the withered husks of the flowers rustling at the base of the cross.
She was waiting for Justin. She knew he would come. She had seen him on the beach below saying his good-byes —embracing Trini, grasping the sun-browned hands of the solemn natives, lifting Dani to his shoulders for a last ride.
The Winthrop steamer loomed like a dark blot on the misty azure and jade of a wet painting. Justin
didn't make a sound, but Emily knew he was behind her.
"I hate ships," she said. "They're always taking people away."
"But they bring them back too."
She turned to face him, hugging back a shiver as if the wind were cold instead of warm. A jolt of shock raced through her. She had never seen Justin in anything but his faded dungarees. Seeing him fully clothed now was somehow more erotic than his near nakedness. He wore no coat, but a handsome waistcoat covered a shirt pressed to crisp perfection. Her mouth went dry with unexpected longing.
The shirt hung loosely over his broad shoulders. Tenderness washed over her for the brawny young prospector who had come to New Zealand filled with dreams and hope. But she wouldn't have traded
a single thread of silver from his temples to have that man back.
His lean form suited the elegance of his garb. Emily felt sorely lacking in her primitive skirt. She shuffled her feet in the sand, fighting a desperate shyness. "I've never seen you with shoes before."
He cast the polished leather a woeful glance. "They pinch like hell."
She drew in a breath, but instead of the laugh she had intended, a broken sob burst forth. Justin reached for her. She melted into him, throwing her arms around him like a bereft child.
He held her as if he would never let her go, kissing her nose, rubbing his stubbled chin against her cheek, mingling her tears into a salty balm against his seeking lips.
He buried his mouth in her hair. "I'll be back for you, Emily. I swear it."
Her slender shoulders convulsed beneath Justin's hands. Her small fists opened and closed against his back, and in the desperation of her grasp he realized something that cut him almost as deeply as leaving her.
She didn't believe him.
With staggering reluctance he dragged himself out of her embrace. He reached in the inner pocket of his waistcoat and drew out a box.
"I have no ring to give you. All I have is this." His hands shook as he dropped the lid in the sand and
