Challenging Andie (19 page)

Andie nodded quickly. “I know. I’m pleased to meet you both.”

As Ben started into an earnest conversation with one of Arnat’s colleagues, Arnat focused his dark gaze on Ryan. “We must talk.”

Laila grasped Andie’s arm, and with a smile pulled her off to the side, talking quietly as she did so. Andie shot Ryan a glance, and with a smile conveyed that she was happy to leave them to it.

*****

“I never knew Emily had a family,” Laila said in a soft voice. “Your father, is he alive?”

“I don’t know. My mother never spoke of him. He wasn’t around while I was growing up.” She shrugged. “There was no name on my birth certificate.”

Laila frowned. “But who brought you up?” She covered her mouth with a small hand. “I apologize; these questions are too personal…”

“It’s alright.” Andie’s heart sank. Her mother hadn’t shared with her friend that she even had a daughter. Or a mother with ill health in a country far away.

“My mother’s mother—my grandmother. We lived in a cottage in the country.”

At the thought of her grandmother, a sharp arrow of loss pierced her chest. Andie’d done her best to step into her mother’s shoes, to be the daughter that Gran was missing. Maybe the fact that Gran hadn’t wanted to watch Emily’s bulletins was more than just protecting her granddaughter, maybe blocking Emily out of her life had been self-preservation too.

Laila made a clucking sound. She grasped Andie’s arm. “Is your grandmother here?”

“She’s dead.” Andie choked on the words.

Laila’s eyes lit with concern. “So you have lost both…I’m so sorry. That must have been terrible for you.”

Andie gazed at the woman who had seen so much death, and must have lost family and friends in the conflict. Yet compassion for another’s suffering filled her entire body. Shone from her dark eyes. “Grief is…” How to say it without sounding pitiful? “Draining. Everyone has grief in their lives.”

Laila nodded. “But not everyone faces it. Many throw themselves into other pursuits to avoid its burn. I have been guilty of that. My husband was suspected of rebellion and snatched off the street in Rexa three years ago. None of the disappeared have ever been found alive. A year ago his remains were identified in a mass grave on the outskirts of town.”

Shock thundered through Andie. This strong, capable woman… A pulse of energy flowed between them. Sisterhood. “I’m sorry.” She forced herself not to look away or feel awkward, knowing that comfort could be accepted if easily given.

Laila’s head jerked. “Thank you.” She smiled. “Enough talk of sadness and loss. Let us track down one of those waiters with a platter of snacks, then go out to the terrace.”

Andie followed Laila as she drifted like a small black ghost through the crowd. Outside, the full moon cast its silvery glow over the small city garden. The tiny terrace was empty, with two Lloyd Loom chairs backed against the wall, allowing a panoramic view out onto the night-scene.

Laila sank onto a chair, and waved to its twin. “So…did my old friend also have grandchildren she never mentioned?”

Andie’s heart thumped hard. A vision of Ryan with a little girl on his broad shoulders flashed in her mind. She swallowed, and thrust the image aside. “No, I have no children. No husband either, for that matter.” What must it be like, to have a husband snatched away, his whereabouts unknown? It wasn’t a scenario she could bear to imagine.

“But soon, perhaps?” Laila’s eyes lit with mischief. “Ryan Armstong is a good man.”

Andie felt heat suffuse her neck and face in a rapid flush. “Uh, Ryan,” her tongue felt huge and unwieldy as she stumbled over the words. “Ryan and I are just dating. It’s nothing serious.”

“I don’t think he knows that.” Laila leaned forward and patted Andie’s hand. “The way he looked at you is not the look of a man who is not serious.”

“We’ve only known each other for a short while.” Their relationship was wonderful, but they’d agreed, it was for now not for ever. Her heart fluttered. She glanced away. “Besides, he has a job to go back to, in Bekostan.”

“But when Bekostan is no longer a country in conflict, perhaps he will return?” Laila probed.

“I–”

“Here you are,” Ryan’s familiar voice sounded from the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Andie stood. How much had he heard?

“Andie and I have been getting to know each other,” Laila stood too. “I was just about to tell her of a ceremony we are holding in the camp. To honor her mother’s memory.” She glanced at Andie. “I would like you to journey out to meet the women and children who owe her so much.” Her gaze pinned Andie, demanding an answer. “Will you?”

Fear clenched Andie’s heart. One flight in a hot-air balloon was hardly preparation for her first proper flight. The flight to Bekostan would be many hours. If she didn’t like it…

She blinked. She’d drawn up the list of challenges for a reason. Dr. Stern had told her that fear of the unknown was what held her back; once that fear was faced it ceased to exist.

She pulled in a deep breath.

“I don’t think Andie travelling to Bekostan is a good idea.” Ryan stepped to her side. “The situation is still so volatile.”

Andie stared at him in amazement. So, it was perfectly okay for him to go back to Bekostan whenever he wanted, but not for her? The heat of anger burned within. She clenched her teeth to keep from firing back a swift rebuttal, allowing her eyes to do the job instead.

Laila glanced from one to the other, doubtless picking up on the charged atmosphere that cracked in the air.

“I think it is something you need to discuss,” she said diplomatically, patting Andie’s arm. She reached inside the long black garment and pulled out a small white card. “My email address is here. The ceremony is in a week’s time.”

“Here’s mine.” Andie rooted in her bag for her notebook, and ripped off a page. She wrote her home address, telephone number and email address down carefully, folded the paper and passed it over.

“I’ll send you the details.” Laila opened her arms wide. “Now, I should go and circulate.” She enveloped Andie in a warm hug. “Take care, my dear.”

With a quick smile Ryan’s direction, she glided through the glass doors, back into the throng.

“You can’t go, you know.”

If he’d stayed silent, she could have squashed her response back inside until they got home. Not now. “There’s nothing to stop me from going.” She stepped away and rested her hands on the balustrade.

With quick strides he was at her side. “
I
can stop you from going.” His chin jutted. “It isn’t safe.”

“Yet it’s safe enough for you?” she fired back.

“I’m different. I’m used to it. I understand the dangers. You’re an innocent with no idea what chaos you’d walk into in a different country in the grip of revolution.” His hand grasped her upper arm. “Look at me, dammit.”

Andie gasped and pulled her arm away.

His eyes glittered. His other hand was clenched into a fist, and his entire body was stiff with tension.

“Don’t treat me like a child, Ryan. You and I are having an affair, nothing more. One that has a definite expiry date—that’s getting closer by the minute. You’re intending to go back, aren’t you? And when you do this affair will be over. You don’t have the right to dictate to me where I should go, or who I should see.”

She crossed her arms.

Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “Affair or not, I care for you, Andie.” His voice softened. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Andie smoothed her hands over the long skirt of her dress. The sinking feeling inside was like a balloon deflating. If he’d felt that this fling was more, now would have been the time to say so, but instead all he’d professed was that he cared.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t near enough.

Anger dissipated, replaced with a keen sadness of the knowledge that despite the shields she’d erected to keep Ryan on the outside of her heart, somehow, when she wasn’t paying attention, she’d lowered the shields and tossed them away, allowing him to enter.

She was in love with a man who could never love her back.

She reached up and touched a finger to his lips. “Well, don’t look.”

Chapter Twelve

Dust gritted Ryan’s eyes as he watched the chaos unfold. The arid air dried his throat, and the sound of rapid-fire filled his ears.

“Stop.”

Ryan turned at the guttural mutter. Behind him, a shadowy figure pointed a battered rifle. Directly at his chest. Heat flashed, and a bead of sweat trickled down his spine. This was it, then. His end. Weren’t you supposed to have an inner reel play at this moment? Of the life you’d led, the experiences that had meant something? Or was that when your life was actually ebbing away. A vision of Andie filled Ryan’s mind. He struggled for breath, breathing only her distinctive perfume, and struggled without success to raise his arms in surrender.

“No—I’m not ready.” His throat ached with the effort of shouting the words as the gunman brought the rifle sight to his eye and took aim.

“Ryan, wake up.” Andie.
How could she be here?

“Ryan.” He felt a tug on his arm, then another. “Wake up.”

His head spun as the dream cleared. He blinked and rubbed an arm over his eyes.

The bedside light clicked on, sending the dream demons scurrying for cover.

“It was just a dream,” Andie whispered. She smoothed a hand over his brow. “You’re safe now.”

Words backed up in his throat as he stared up. Her hair fell in a straight curtain, dusting his chest. One hand stroked over the side of his face. The look of compassionate concern in her sky-blue eyes warmed him, deep inside.

He reached for her nape, pulled her down to his mouth, and kissed her like a man reprieved from a death sentence.

Ryan threw back the constricting sheet, and pulled her silk clad body onto his. His arms slid around her, and with rapid movements, he grasped the edge of the nightgown and pulled it up over her head. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breath, and he rubbed his head against her collarbone.

When they’d come back from the party, she’d been distant, and he’d been too angry at the thought of her travelling to Bekostan to try to reconnect. She’d said their romance had an expiry date. She was right. There was no way a long distance romance could flourish. She had a life and job here—one that didn’t involve him.

He’d nodded when she announced coldly that she was moving into the other bedroom. Hadn’t tried to stop her as she’d flounced from the room and up the stairs.

Instead, he’d pulled the half bottle of vodka out of the freezer, and mixed himself a drink. The fact was he was heading back to Bekostan earlier than anticipated. Arnat wanted to do the interview on Friday, which meant he’d have to rearrange Brianne’s visit, and fly out on Thursday. Once he’d gone, Andie would return to her life.