DECEIVE | | PART SEVEN
NOTES: Because I post this over at SD-1 first, and everyone seemed to notice Syd's abrupt change in behavior, I felt you needed some sort of explanation. I have to warn you, though, these two got way out of hand. Sorry for the 9-page update again. It just. . . came to me. I hate it when they take over like that.
* * *
Sydney closed the door behind her with a sigh and slid down to the floor. Calling Sark's bluff had taken too much out of her. It was one thing to pretend you were someone else who had no problem handling cocky assassins, but it was another thing entirely to do it. Digging into your portfolio of aliases for someone who had enough guts to match him step for eyebrow- raising step was cake.
There were more than several women who'd be suitable--funnily enough, Elizabeth Dover was one of them. But she had no idea that she was going to have to become that person entirely to survive this. Frankly, she was feeling a little bit overwhelmed. It seemed like things had moved way too fast for her to keep up and now she was caught in the maelstrom.
She hadn't contacted anyone at home in days. Sydney wondered if they even noticed.
* * *
"What do you mean, my daughter's missing?" Jack spoke in a very low, deceptively calm voice to Agent Weiss.
"Whoa, Mr. Bristow. We don't know if she's really missing--all I know is that she hasn't been home for over a week. I was going to see if she'd been sent away on a mission that we didn't know about. Sometimes, you Bristows do that, you know."
Jack glowered at him. "Let me tell you something, Agent Weiss. *If* my daughter is AWOL right now, then you had better believe she's got a really good reason to be. Now I suggest you keep this to yourself and pretend this conversation *never happened*. As far as you know, Sydney's on assignment. One that *I* sent her on--is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. If you'll excuse me," the older man stepped aside and walked away.
Weiss looked at his watch and decided it was time to go see Vaughn in the hospital.
* * *
Lauren, surprisingly, was not there when he arrived. But Vaughn was awake.
"Hey. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me."
Weiss smiled easily. "Nah. Just been busy." He looked around conspicuously and handed his friend a burger with great fanfare. "Scarf that down, quick."
Vaughn's eyes lit up. "My god, real food. Did I ever tell you that you're the best?"
"Yeah, a million times. Shut up and eat, okay? I don't want them to fire me over this. I worked hard to get my clearance levels."
Vaughn smiled around a mouthful of double cheeseburger. "So what's going on at the office? Lauren refuses to talk about work while I'm hooked up to machines like this."
"Uh, not much. When're you getting out?"
"Tomorrow, actually. And not a moment too soon." Vaughn crumpled the wrapper into a ball and tossed it perfectly into a trashcan across the room.
"Show off."
"You want to trade? After a couple weeks of this, you can perfect just about everything--including your three-point throw."
Weiss went over to the door and pulled the shade down. "When's the last time you saw Syd?"
Vaughn frowned. "Couple days ago, maybe? I don't remember, time passes differently when you're sleeping a lot. Why? Something wrong?"
"Did she seem--*off* to you somehow?"
The concerned look melted into irritation. "Weiss, what's going on?"
He looked back at the closed door. "She's--"
The door burst open and Lauren bustled in with some papers. "Oh, hello, Eric."
Weiss shot Vaughn a pained look and shrugged in a way that only best friends can understand. Vaughn gave his wife a smile.
"I'm glad you're awake, honey. I just got the doctors to sign the release forms with a little help from Jack Bristow. As soon as we clear this up, you can go home."
Eric's eyes widened. Jack knew he was here. Crap. "Listen you guys, I'd love to stay and help with the transition, but we're working on a big case back at the office. I just wanted to stop and say hi on my lunch break."
"Don't worry about it," Lauren waved him away. "We've got it under control."
"See you later, man." He shot one last significant look at his friend and walked out the door.
She stared after him. "Did Eric seem strange to you at all?"
"No more than usual." Lauren gave him a disbelieving look. "Really, I'm sure he's fine. Probably worried about some deadline or something going on at the office--not that I'd know."
"Can I help it if I'm trying to keep your mind off work? You can't say it hasn't been more relaxing these past few weeks."
"Sure. When they weren't sticking needles and things in me."
She smiled and kissed his forehead. "C'mon. Let's go home."
* * *
The knock on the door nearly scared Sydney half to death.
"Yes," she pulled it open, revealing the same maid who had served breakfast.
"Mr. Sark would like to know what you'd like for dinner."
Sydney glanced at her watch. God, it was already dinnertime? What had happened to the day? "I'm not really ready for dinner just yet, so tell him he can go on and eat without me. Please," she added, feeling woefully inadequate next to this woman who obviously knew more of Sark's habits than she ever would.
"Of course."
The woman left and Sydney once again felt she could breathe easier. She looked out the window, at the wide expanse of green and made a decision. Grabbing a thick sweater to throw over her clothes and a pair of gloves, she left the room and headed for the grounds.
At least out there, no one would bother her.
She needed to clear her head.
* * *
"Mr. Sark, sir."
Sark looked up from the transcript of Simon's last phone call blankly. "What is it?"
"Miss Bristow has just left her room. She was last seen at the doors of the east wing."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Let me know if you hear anything further."
"Of course, sir."
When Philippe turned to leave, Sark called after him. "Did Angelina ask her what she wanted for dinner?"
"She said she wasn't going to eat."
His eyes grew hard. "She can't simply go hungry."
"I agree, sir."
Sark ran a hand over his short hair and set down his paper. "Look, if I'm not back in 45 minutes, send someone after us."
"Naturally."
The younger man shot him a warning look. "And don't you dare laugh."
"I would never do such a thing."
He locked the papers in his top drawer, grabbed his black overcoat, and left his office.
Wonderful. She was scared.
* * *
SD-6 hadn't been entirely bad. Well, okay, yes it had. It was evil and so was Arvin Sloane, despite what he had fooled the rest of the world into believing, but that wasn't the point. The point was, where else would Sydney have learned to scuba-dive, Ballroom dance, and horseback ride in the course of a week? It was through these speedy training sessions she learned what she liked and what she didn't.
Sydney *loved* to ride. It was one of her absolute favorite things, but something she rarely ever did because of her job. It wasn't as if she could keep a horse outside her garage, or even at a stable outside of LA, because people would ask questions. When she had found out that Sark had not only an extensive stable but also over a dozen horses, all the thoughts that had been jumbled in her head suddenly disappeared.
The caretaker saddled up the horse she wanted to ride and she was off before he could even say goodbye.
There wasn't a set path for her to follow, so Sydney let the mare lead and was content to be along for the ride. It was such an odd comfort that had just appeared in her sea of uncertainty and made things a little easier to deal with. If she had at least three things that were familiar, in every situation, she found she could handle most of it and compartmentalize what she couldn't. The problem was, being in an expensive mansion, with Sark, far away from everyone she knew, was sending her brain into overload.
And when that failed, she had to rely on instinct.
Instinct told her to be someone else to get through the day.
So she did.
"Sydney!"
She turned in the saddle and nearly fell off her horse. Sark was right behind her, on a dark stallion, riding after her. Sensing a chase was at hand, the mare took off. Sydney barely had time to grip the reins before she was hanging on for her life. She tried to rein in, but the animal would have none of it. Knowing she didn't exactly have a choice, Sydney closed her eyes and buried her face in the horse's mane.
God, she wished he would just stop chasing her.
* * *
The reins hung slack in his hands as he stared after Sydney's rapidly retreating form for several moments before he spurred his horse into action after her. What on earth was she doing, running off like that? Didn't she understand they had rules to follow, protocol to maintain? Not to mention the fact that Julia Thorne was deathly afraid of horses, whereas Sydney Bristow seemed to love them.
Cursing her, and hoping like hell Simon hadn't found a way to monitor them yet, Sark let his horse pick up the mare's scent and race after her.
* * *
"You know I wouldn't have contacted you if I didn't think it was dire."
"Jack." Irina's melodic voice carried clearly over the thousands of miles that separated them. "I'll make sure the call disappears. What's wrong?"
Jack leaned against the railing and stared at the waves as they crashed violently onto the sand. A storm was coming and he didn't have to be a meteorologist to know it. "Sydney's disappeared. I've inquired delicately around the office, but it was her neighbor that brought it to my attention in the first place."
"Agent Weiss." It wasn't a question.
He didn't know how she'd gotten that information and decided it was better not to ask. "Yes. I told him she was on an assignment--classified, of course--but I don't think he bought it. I need help covering her tracks, but I also need to find her, and I can't do both at the same time."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Start up a false trail of her aliases. I'll pick up wherever you leave off."
She realized what he was thinking, "And while one of us is arranging a paper trail, the other will investigate."
"Yes."
"Good plan."
"Yes, well, it always works best with someone you trust."
There was a long pause on her end. "Jack, I want you to know how much this means to me--that you're willing to involve me in this."
"Irina," he took a deep breath and abruptly wished, more than anything that he could be standing next to her at that very moment. "She's ours. It's nothing more than you deserve."
"Still," she wasn't going to let him off that easily, "I appreciate it."
There really was nothing he could say to that and they both knew it. "I, uh- -"
"--Should probably go. The longer we talk, the harder it's going to be to make this disappear."
Jack growled. "That wasn't what I was going to say."
"It's true," she answered simply.
"Hell with it," he muttered to himself, knowing she could probably hear that, too. "I miss you."
Thousands of miles couldn't make a dent in their silent bond. He felt her smiling and knew he'd done well by taking the risk. "I love you, too," she whispered, and hung up the phone.
Jack stared down at the offending object darkly. That was Irina for you. She took your hard-earned admission and translated it, only to throw it back in your face. He couldn't help the tiny smile on his lips. Probably better that she wasn't next to him right now.
He had a sudden urge to show her what he thought of her parting remarks.
* * *
When she smelled a difference in the air, she finally opened her eyes and made a decision. She yanked the reins in sharply and the horse came to a halt. There was a canyon before her. It was absolutely beautiful. Sark and his horse came skidding to a stop beside her.
"What was that?" He asked calmly, trying to catch his breath.
Sydney looked at him with something in her eyes he couldn't define. "Did you know about this?" She gestured to the area around them.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked taken aback. "Sydney, you just arrived last night. Between your unusual behavior this morning and Simon's phone call--I apologize for being such a bad host and not showing you around sooner," he sarcastically replied.
Sydney dismounted and walked to stand on the edge of the cliff. "It's beautiful."
Sark shook his head in disbelief and tethered their horses. "It was inherited," he moved to stand next to her, fighting the urge to pull her back from the edge. She wouldn't jump just to escape their current situation, right? He wasn't about to take that chance, and lightly guided her away.
"Are you all right?"
It was curious, she mused, to hear the faint level of concern in his voice. She wondered if this was part of his act. "Are you being Sark now?"
If he looked confused before, now he was completely lost. "I beg your pardon?"
She folded her arms defensively. "I've tried to understand your behavior for the past few weeks and I can't. The first minute, you're demanding to know what I'm doing--telling me that Simon is a rag, the next, you're drugging me and ordering me to sleep. Then you tell me we're engaged, and this is another version of the Sark I know. Maybe this is the wrong thing to be admitting out loud, but you're confusing me! I don't know which one you're going to be when I'm in your presence and I can't keep preparing for all of them!"
"Why do you need to prepare?" Sark quietly asked, filing away each word she'd just spoken.
Sydney shut her eyes and turned away. He couldn't stop from pulling her back to face him.
"Sydney."
When her eyes opened again, she was angry. "Who am I to you? Am I Julia Thorne? Am I someone you're going to use to get back at the Covenant for stealing your money? Is this some way of screwing me over because I killed your father?!"
The change in his face was remarkable. It was as if someone had pulled a switch and shut down every hint of emotion he'd begun to show. The eyes that had been almost warm with concern cooled off, and the grip on her arm began to hurt. "What are you talking about?"
She looked at him with a grim smile. "They didn't tell you, did they?"
Sark now held her arms with enough force to bruise. "I will not *ask* again."
"I murdered your father as Julia Thorne. And it felt good," she lied, twisting the knife in further.
He'd never had a problem hitting her before. But for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do so now. Instead, he released her arms and shoved her away from him. "I don't think you want to be having this conversation right now."
She stumbled twice before getting her footing and saw that he was as conflicted as she was. Well, good. He deserved to be confused. "I'll do whatever I want."
"No, you will not."
Her eyes sparked dangerously. "You can't tell me what to do."
Sark took in her stance, the paleness of her face, and the way she seemed to be hanging onto her resentment like a security blanket. She was still scared. And she was lashing out at him. "Are you certain of that," he murmured, at her side in one of those quick maneuvers she could never seem to anticipate.
Sark took her lips with bruising force and moved her backward steadily until the rough bark of a tree stopped his advancement. But he wasn't satisfied. Not yet. He barely let her catch her breath before sliding his hand underneath her sweater and pulling her tightly to him. He now rained hot kisses along her neck and pulled the thick cotton aside to gain access to her smooth skin. She was gasping, completely unprepared for the onslaught, and helpless to do anything but let him continue. When he reached a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her neck, her knees buckled and she could no longer stand on her own.
It didn't matter, though, because he was showing her that he was a full- blooded male who know exactly what he wanted and how to get it. God, why hadn't it been like this when Vaughn had kissed her? It made her want to just rip the clothes right off him and--she turned her head sharply, letting his kiss land on her ear.
"Stop," she whispered, her hands on his shoulders. "Just. . . stop."
Sark looked at her swollen lips and shimmering brown eyes and immediately wanted to kiss her all over again. Not that she had to know that, of course. "Why?" He asked, tracing a pattern on her back.
She trembled ever so slightly and closed her eyes again. "Because we have to stop."
"That's a really poor reason, you know. Especially coming from someone with a rather extraordinary intellect." Sark brushed a hand at her eyelashes, and waited for them to open.
Sydney was trying to regain her composure, but he kept doing these things to her, these little gestures that went straight to her heart and threatened to burrow there until they bred into gestures of something grander. "Seriously. We've got to," she took a great big calming gulp of air, "stop. It's getting cold out here."
"There are ways around that."
She met his eyes and felt her resolve crumble again. They were dark blue and stormy, and she couldn't help but feel swept along for the ride. She had to find some way of effectively canceling this out. "I wonder," she shakily started, "If you always treat people who kill your family members so well?"
His arms had been the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the ground. They dropped from around her and she staggered, trying to remember how to stand. Somehow, the look in his eyes now was something akin to pity and she felt her hackles rise in anticipation.
He surprised her by softly answering, "Only the ones I have a fondness for. Then I can be certain of their innocence." Sark brushed back her wind-blown hair gently.
Sydney watched him change again in front of her eyes and marveled. Who was this man that could be so dangerous and unassuming at the same time? How did he do it?
Sark again reached for her hand and handed her up to her horse.
The ride back to the house was silent.
* * *
NOTES: Because I post this over at SD-1 first, and everyone seemed to notice Syd's abrupt change in behavior, I felt you needed some sort of explanation. I have to warn you, though, these two got way out of hand. Sorry for the 9-page update again. It just. . . came to me. I hate it when they take over like that.
* * *
Sydney closed the door behind her with a sigh and slid down to the floor. Calling Sark's bluff had taken too much out of her. It was one thing to pretend you were someone else who had no problem handling cocky assassins, but it was another thing entirely to do it. Digging into your portfolio of aliases for someone who had enough guts to match him step for eyebrow- raising step was cake.
There were more than several women who'd be suitable--funnily enough, Elizabeth Dover was one of them. But she had no idea that she was going to have to become that person entirely to survive this. Frankly, she was feeling a little bit overwhelmed. It seemed like things had moved way too fast for her to keep up and now she was caught in the maelstrom.
She hadn't contacted anyone at home in days. Sydney wondered if they even noticed.
* * *
"What do you mean, my daughter's missing?" Jack spoke in a very low, deceptively calm voice to Agent Weiss.
"Whoa, Mr. Bristow. We don't know if she's really missing--all I know is that she hasn't been home for over a week. I was going to see if she'd been sent away on a mission that we didn't know about. Sometimes, you Bristows do that, you know."
Jack glowered at him. "Let me tell you something, Agent Weiss. *If* my daughter is AWOL right now, then you had better believe she's got a really good reason to be. Now I suggest you keep this to yourself and pretend this conversation *never happened*. As far as you know, Sydney's on assignment. One that *I* sent her on--is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. If you'll excuse me," the older man stepped aside and walked away.
Weiss looked at his watch and decided it was time to go see Vaughn in the hospital.
* * *
Lauren, surprisingly, was not there when he arrived. But Vaughn was awake.
"Hey. I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me."
Weiss smiled easily. "Nah. Just been busy." He looked around conspicuously and handed his friend a burger with great fanfare. "Scarf that down, quick."
Vaughn's eyes lit up. "My god, real food. Did I ever tell you that you're the best?"
"Yeah, a million times. Shut up and eat, okay? I don't want them to fire me over this. I worked hard to get my clearance levels."
Vaughn smiled around a mouthful of double cheeseburger. "So what's going on at the office? Lauren refuses to talk about work while I'm hooked up to machines like this."
"Uh, not much. When're you getting out?"
"Tomorrow, actually. And not a moment too soon." Vaughn crumpled the wrapper into a ball and tossed it perfectly into a trashcan across the room.
"Show off."
"You want to trade? After a couple weeks of this, you can perfect just about everything--including your three-point throw."
Weiss went over to the door and pulled the shade down. "When's the last time you saw Syd?"
Vaughn frowned. "Couple days ago, maybe? I don't remember, time passes differently when you're sleeping a lot. Why? Something wrong?"
"Did she seem--*off* to you somehow?"
The concerned look melted into irritation. "Weiss, what's going on?"
He looked back at the closed door. "She's--"
The door burst open and Lauren bustled in with some papers. "Oh, hello, Eric."
Weiss shot Vaughn a pained look and shrugged in a way that only best friends can understand. Vaughn gave his wife a smile.
"I'm glad you're awake, honey. I just got the doctors to sign the release forms with a little help from Jack Bristow. As soon as we clear this up, you can go home."
Eric's eyes widened. Jack knew he was here. Crap. "Listen you guys, I'd love to stay and help with the transition, but we're working on a big case back at the office. I just wanted to stop and say hi on my lunch break."
"Don't worry about it," Lauren waved him away. "We've got it under control."
"See you later, man." He shot one last significant look at his friend and walked out the door.
She stared after him. "Did Eric seem strange to you at all?"
"No more than usual." Lauren gave him a disbelieving look. "Really, I'm sure he's fine. Probably worried about some deadline or something going on at the office--not that I'd know."
"Can I help it if I'm trying to keep your mind off work? You can't say it hasn't been more relaxing these past few weeks."
"Sure. When they weren't sticking needles and things in me."
She smiled and kissed his forehead. "C'mon. Let's go home."
* * *
The knock on the door nearly scared Sydney half to death.
"Yes," she pulled it open, revealing the same maid who had served breakfast.
"Mr. Sark would like to know what you'd like for dinner."
Sydney glanced at her watch. God, it was already dinnertime? What had happened to the day? "I'm not really ready for dinner just yet, so tell him he can go on and eat without me. Please," she added, feeling woefully inadequate next to this woman who obviously knew more of Sark's habits than she ever would.
"Of course."
The woman left and Sydney once again felt she could breathe easier. She looked out the window, at the wide expanse of green and made a decision. Grabbing a thick sweater to throw over her clothes and a pair of gloves, she left the room and headed for the grounds.
At least out there, no one would bother her.
She needed to clear her head.
* * *
"Mr. Sark, sir."
Sark looked up from the transcript of Simon's last phone call blankly. "What is it?"
"Miss Bristow has just left her room. She was last seen at the doors of the east wing."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Let me know if you hear anything further."
"Of course, sir."
When Philippe turned to leave, Sark called after him. "Did Angelina ask her what she wanted for dinner?"
"She said she wasn't going to eat."
His eyes grew hard. "She can't simply go hungry."
"I agree, sir."
Sark ran a hand over his short hair and set down his paper. "Look, if I'm not back in 45 minutes, send someone after us."
"Naturally."
The younger man shot him a warning look. "And don't you dare laugh."
"I would never do such a thing."
He locked the papers in his top drawer, grabbed his black overcoat, and left his office.
Wonderful. She was scared.
* * *
SD-6 hadn't been entirely bad. Well, okay, yes it had. It was evil and so was Arvin Sloane, despite what he had fooled the rest of the world into believing, but that wasn't the point. The point was, where else would Sydney have learned to scuba-dive, Ballroom dance, and horseback ride in the course of a week? It was through these speedy training sessions she learned what she liked and what she didn't.
Sydney *loved* to ride. It was one of her absolute favorite things, but something she rarely ever did because of her job. It wasn't as if she could keep a horse outside her garage, or even at a stable outside of LA, because people would ask questions. When she had found out that Sark had not only an extensive stable but also over a dozen horses, all the thoughts that had been jumbled in her head suddenly disappeared.
The caretaker saddled up the horse she wanted to ride and she was off before he could even say goodbye.
There wasn't a set path for her to follow, so Sydney let the mare lead and was content to be along for the ride. It was such an odd comfort that had just appeared in her sea of uncertainty and made things a little easier to deal with. If she had at least three things that were familiar, in every situation, she found she could handle most of it and compartmentalize what she couldn't. The problem was, being in an expensive mansion, with Sark, far away from everyone she knew, was sending her brain into overload.
And when that failed, she had to rely on instinct.
Instinct told her to be someone else to get through the day.
So she did.
"Sydney!"
She turned in the saddle and nearly fell off her horse. Sark was right behind her, on a dark stallion, riding after her. Sensing a chase was at hand, the mare took off. Sydney barely had time to grip the reins before she was hanging on for her life. She tried to rein in, but the animal would have none of it. Knowing she didn't exactly have a choice, Sydney closed her eyes and buried her face in the horse's mane.
God, she wished he would just stop chasing her.
* * *
The reins hung slack in his hands as he stared after Sydney's rapidly retreating form for several moments before he spurred his horse into action after her. What on earth was she doing, running off like that? Didn't she understand they had rules to follow, protocol to maintain? Not to mention the fact that Julia Thorne was deathly afraid of horses, whereas Sydney Bristow seemed to love them.
Cursing her, and hoping like hell Simon hadn't found a way to monitor them yet, Sark let his horse pick up the mare's scent and race after her.
* * *
"You know I wouldn't have contacted you if I didn't think it was dire."
"Jack." Irina's melodic voice carried clearly over the thousands of miles that separated them. "I'll make sure the call disappears. What's wrong?"
Jack leaned against the railing and stared at the waves as they crashed violently onto the sand. A storm was coming and he didn't have to be a meteorologist to know it. "Sydney's disappeared. I've inquired delicately around the office, but it was her neighbor that brought it to my attention in the first place."
"Agent Weiss." It wasn't a question.
He didn't know how she'd gotten that information and decided it was better not to ask. "Yes. I told him she was on an assignment--classified, of course--but I don't think he bought it. I need help covering her tracks, but I also need to find her, and I can't do both at the same time."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Start up a false trail of her aliases. I'll pick up wherever you leave off."
She realized what he was thinking, "And while one of us is arranging a paper trail, the other will investigate."
"Yes."
"Good plan."
"Yes, well, it always works best with someone you trust."
There was a long pause on her end. "Jack, I want you to know how much this means to me--that you're willing to involve me in this."
"Irina," he took a deep breath and abruptly wished, more than anything that he could be standing next to her at that very moment. "She's ours. It's nothing more than you deserve."
"Still," she wasn't going to let him off that easily, "I appreciate it."
There really was nothing he could say to that and they both knew it. "I, uh- -"
"--Should probably go. The longer we talk, the harder it's going to be to make this disappear."
Jack growled. "That wasn't what I was going to say."
"It's true," she answered simply.
"Hell with it," he muttered to himself, knowing she could probably hear that, too. "I miss you."
Thousands of miles couldn't make a dent in their silent bond. He felt her smiling and knew he'd done well by taking the risk. "I love you, too," she whispered, and hung up the phone.
Jack stared down at the offending object darkly. That was Irina for you. She took your hard-earned admission and translated it, only to throw it back in your face. He couldn't help the tiny smile on his lips. Probably better that she wasn't next to him right now.
He had a sudden urge to show her what he thought of her parting remarks.
* * *
When she smelled a difference in the air, she finally opened her eyes and made a decision. She yanked the reins in sharply and the horse came to a halt. There was a canyon before her. It was absolutely beautiful. Sark and his horse came skidding to a stop beside her.
"What was that?" He asked calmly, trying to catch his breath.
Sydney looked at him with something in her eyes he couldn't define. "Did you know about this?" She gestured to the area around them.
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked taken aback. "Sydney, you just arrived last night. Between your unusual behavior this morning and Simon's phone call--I apologize for being such a bad host and not showing you around sooner," he sarcastically replied.
Sydney dismounted and walked to stand on the edge of the cliff. "It's beautiful."
Sark shook his head in disbelief and tethered their horses. "It was inherited," he moved to stand next to her, fighting the urge to pull her back from the edge. She wouldn't jump just to escape their current situation, right? He wasn't about to take that chance, and lightly guided her away.
"Are you all right?"
It was curious, she mused, to hear the faint level of concern in his voice. She wondered if this was part of his act. "Are you being Sark now?"
If he looked confused before, now he was completely lost. "I beg your pardon?"
She folded her arms defensively. "I've tried to understand your behavior for the past few weeks and I can't. The first minute, you're demanding to know what I'm doing--telling me that Simon is a rag, the next, you're drugging me and ordering me to sleep. Then you tell me we're engaged, and this is another version of the Sark I know. Maybe this is the wrong thing to be admitting out loud, but you're confusing me! I don't know which one you're going to be when I'm in your presence and I can't keep preparing for all of them!"
"Why do you need to prepare?" Sark quietly asked, filing away each word she'd just spoken.
Sydney shut her eyes and turned away. He couldn't stop from pulling her back to face him.
"Sydney."
When her eyes opened again, she was angry. "Who am I to you? Am I Julia Thorne? Am I someone you're going to use to get back at the Covenant for stealing your money? Is this some way of screwing me over because I killed your father?!"
The change in his face was remarkable. It was as if someone had pulled a switch and shut down every hint of emotion he'd begun to show. The eyes that had been almost warm with concern cooled off, and the grip on her arm began to hurt. "What are you talking about?"
She looked at him with a grim smile. "They didn't tell you, did they?"
Sark now held her arms with enough force to bruise. "I will not *ask* again."
"I murdered your father as Julia Thorne. And it felt good," she lied, twisting the knife in further.
He'd never had a problem hitting her before. But for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do so now. Instead, he released her arms and shoved her away from him. "I don't think you want to be having this conversation right now."
She stumbled twice before getting her footing and saw that he was as conflicted as she was. Well, good. He deserved to be confused. "I'll do whatever I want."
"No, you will not."
Her eyes sparked dangerously. "You can't tell me what to do."
Sark took in her stance, the paleness of her face, and the way she seemed to be hanging onto her resentment like a security blanket. She was still scared. And she was lashing out at him. "Are you certain of that," he murmured, at her side in one of those quick maneuvers she could never seem to anticipate.
Sark took her lips with bruising force and moved her backward steadily until the rough bark of a tree stopped his advancement. But he wasn't satisfied. Not yet. He barely let her catch her breath before sliding his hand underneath her sweater and pulling her tightly to him. He now rained hot kisses along her neck and pulled the thick cotton aside to gain access to her smooth skin. She was gasping, completely unprepared for the onslaught, and helpless to do anything but let him continue. When he reached a particularly sensitive spot on the side of her neck, her knees buckled and she could no longer stand on her own.
It didn't matter, though, because he was showing her that he was a full- blooded male who know exactly what he wanted and how to get it. God, why hadn't it been like this when Vaughn had kissed her? It made her want to just rip the clothes right off him and--she turned her head sharply, letting his kiss land on her ear.
"Stop," she whispered, her hands on his shoulders. "Just. . . stop."
Sark looked at her swollen lips and shimmering brown eyes and immediately wanted to kiss her all over again. Not that she had to know that, of course. "Why?" He asked, tracing a pattern on her back.
She trembled ever so slightly and closed her eyes again. "Because we have to stop."
"That's a really poor reason, you know. Especially coming from someone with a rather extraordinary intellect." Sark brushed a hand at her eyelashes, and waited for them to open.
Sydney was trying to regain her composure, but he kept doing these things to her, these little gestures that went straight to her heart and threatened to burrow there until they bred into gestures of something grander. "Seriously. We've got to," she took a great big calming gulp of air, "stop. It's getting cold out here."
"There are ways around that."
She met his eyes and felt her resolve crumble again. They were dark blue and stormy, and she couldn't help but feel swept along for the ride. She had to find some way of effectively canceling this out. "I wonder," she shakily started, "If you always treat people who kill your family members so well?"
His arms had been the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the ground. They dropped from around her and she staggered, trying to remember how to stand. Somehow, the look in his eyes now was something akin to pity and she felt her hackles rise in anticipation.
He surprised her by softly answering, "Only the ones I have a fondness for. Then I can be certain of their innocence." Sark brushed back her wind-blown hair gently.
Sydney watched him change again in front of her eyes and marveled. Who was this man that could be so dangerous and unassuming at the same time? How did he do it?
Sark again reached for her hand and handed her up to her horse.
The ride back to the house was silent.
* * *