§ § § - January 2, 2000
Roarke and Leslie stood together at the dock on Sunday morning, Leslie trying to resign herself to the resumption of the long wait, Roarke watching her. When she met his gaze, he smiled and squeezed her shoulder. "Are you still wondering about Christian's mood yesterday?" he asked.
"It wasn't so different from mine," said Leslie, "since we knew this moment was coming. But we had our week together at least." Still, as her voice trailed away, her mind turned uneasily to Christian's strange demeanor. Throughout New Year's Day he had been reticent, increasingly withdrawn and grim, and his eyes had been filled with sorrow every time he looked at Leslie. Was he so dreading their resumed separation?
Roarke nodded, and it was then that a station wagon pulled up and discharged Christian and Anna-Kristina. The princess stepped out ahead of her uncle and clasped Roarke's hands. "I'm so grateful for the interlude you allowed us," she said. "It gave me some time to think about things, and to gather my courage. Maybe I'll never be rid of amakarna, but at least I can stand up to my father about the throne and Asgar, since I know Uncle Christian is behind me. I truly appreciate all you've done."
"I am afraid that in reality I could do very little, but you are nonetheless very welcome, Anna-Kristina. Keep us informed," Roarke suggested. She nodded, then turned to Leslie and hugged her. In that moment Roarke noticed Christian's odd, slightly hunched stance, the inexplicably haunted look in his eyes as he stared at Leslie. They would need a few extra minutes alone for a farewell, he thought.
Anna-Kristina went off to board the plane, and Roarke bid Christian a safe trip before stepping back some distance. One of the natives approached him then with a question, distracting his attention altogether and leaving Christian and Leslie alone for all intents and purposes.
Christian paused in front of Leslie and drew in a deep breath that shuddered noticeably. "Well, I'm afraid this is goodbye," he said quietly.
"Just for a while," said Leslie, stubbornly refusing to let him get maudlin. "You'll be back, we both know it."
For the first time Christian looked squarely into her eyes, and she got the full brunt of the pain that gleamed from his. "No, my Leslie Rose, I mean…it has to be goodbye."
The way he said it made her tense and stare warily at him. "I don't understand."
He shook his head and looked away. "This week was the happiest I've ever known, and I'll always have the memory to fall back on when I need it. I thank you for that."
"Christian—" Leslie stilled and felt herself chill abruptly with creeping realization. "You're giving up! You're saying goodbye forever, aren't you?"
Christian closed his eyes and nodded. "Yes, I am…"
She panicked. "Why? We always told each other it was just a matter of time, that something would happen…Christian, for God's sake, why?"
Anguish joined the agony in Christian's eyes as he grasped her arms and tried to explain. "Leslie, my darling, look at the situation! It was easier to wait when we first learned of my proxy marriage and Marina thought she would be dead in a few years. We had a chance then. Now both she and the count have benefited from a cure, and for all I know they'll both outlive us. He'll never let anything change because he wants the social status he thinks he's gained by marrying his daughter into royalty. Arnulf won't give in because he needs that damn spice. Your father can't make it grow here for reasons over which he has no control. Leslie, don't you see? There's no alternate source; I'm not going to be widowed; and I can't get divorced. I'm permanently trapped!"
"But we chose to believe there'd be a solution one day," Leslie protested frantically. "How can you let go now?"
"It's not fair to you," Christian insisted. "If I have no hope of coming to you for good, then it only holds you back from meeting someone who can give you the love and the happiness and the kind of life you deserve. As long as I'm shackled to Marina, I can never do that. I'm forty-one years old, Leslie, and Arnulf is pestering me about children. I'm not getting any younger, and it's time I faced facts."
"I don't want anyone else," Leslie cried. "Christian, I'm begging you—don't do this!"
"It's killing me, Leslie—I'm already dying inside, and I'll die a little more every day without you, but I must do it. I have to give you up because I'll never be free!" His voice broke and he squeezed his eyes shut, wrestling with his emotions. "You must believe me when I tell you, my Leslie Rose, I'll love you for all my days. I love you now and I'll never stop loving you. But I just can't hold you back anymore, waiting for a change in this hopeless situation that will never come. Be well and safe always, my darling. I love you." Christian dropped a swift, hard kiss on her lips, released her and wheeled abruptly away, moving grimly towards the landing ramp.
"Please, Christian, noooooooo!" Leslie wailed desperately.
He flinched so violently that she saw his body twitch, but he never broke stride nor even looked back. Stunned beyond words now, she stared helplessly after the retreating prince, till he swung through the seaplane's hatch and vanished from her sight; then she twisted away and hid her face in her hands.
Aboard the plane, Christian collapsed in his seat and sat in a heavy silence, struggling to compose himself. Anna-Kristina leaned over to eye him suspiciously. "I heard Leslie cry out," she said with a thread of accusation in her voice. "What did you do to her?"
"I set her free," replied Christian bleakly, still fighting for control.
"You what?" Anna-Kristina blurted, shocked. "Are you saying you're never going to see her again?"
"You know how things stand, Anna-Kristina," Christian shot back sharply. "There's no hope for us."
She vaulted out of her seat and glared down at him. "I can't believe you're doing something so stupid! Get back off this plane and tell her you made a mistake!"
"Excuse me, miss, you'd better sit down," one of the Polynesian attendants then broke into her tirade in jordiska. "We're about to taxi out to sea."
She stared at him, then at Christian, whose expression had gone studiously blank. "Uncle Christian!" she cried.
"Sit down, Anna-Kristina, now," he snapped icily.
Still glaring, she thumped back into her seat. "I don't understand what's wrong with you," she growled.
Christian's already-fragile control fell apart, and he turned a frigid yet pain-filled glare on his niece. "Can you think of a solution, then? Do you know of a way Leslie and I can be together? If so, you have about three seconds left to tell me what it is!" Her mouth dropped open, and he turned away as the plane cruised through the lagoon, letting his head fall against the window. His eyes at last filled with tears and spilled over, and he wondered if he could ever really be happy again. Leslie had been right: he would never forget her.
Left behind, Leslie stood there quaking, hands falling back to her sides, once more trying to adjust herself to this latest upheaval in her world. At her cry earlier, Roarke had turned in alarm; only seconds had passed, but to her it was a small eternity before he came to her and tucked her hands into his. "Leslie, what happened?" he demanded urgently.
"Christian…" she began, in a dazed, wobbling voice. "Father, he said goodbye!"
Something in her tone told him there was more to her last word than its face value indicated. "What do you mean, 'goodbye'?"
"He's given up on our ever being together," Leslie cried out, eyes wild. "He's told me goodbye forever, and I'll never see him again!"
Roarke's eyes widened with disbelief and shock, and he pulled her into a protective hug when he saw her legs begin to give out under her. Overhead the departing charter rose above the trees, and he watched it sail across the morning sky, beginning to slowly shake his head, once more visited with the sense that he'd somehow failed his daughter.
After a moment he regrouped and turned to her. "Come, child, let's go back home," he said gently. "We'll talk about it there, all right?" He didn't wait for her response; she didn't give one at any rate. He settled her into the car and gave the driver the go-ahead, then watched Leslie with concern the whole way back.
At the main house, Roarke put Leslie into a chair and took a seat in its twin, again taking her hand. She tightened her grasp on his hand immediately, as if he were a lifeline. "Tell me what he said," Roarke prompted, and Leslie did so, her voice a high, dazed monotone. When she finished, he found himself speechless. He had to admit to himself that Christian's decision was perfectly logical; it was clear that the young man had thought it through very carefully and reached the only conclusion he'd felt he could.
"Now I know why he was like that all week," Leslie mumbled. "I knew almost ever since our fight that there was something bothering him, but I thought he was just dreading the moment he had to go home. All day New Year's Eve, he found some reason to touch me or hold me. He said at the party that he sometimes thought nothing was ever going to change, and he sounded so bitter. When he asked to make love to me, he said 'just once'…" Her face contorted and she gulped back a sob with difficulty. "And then yesterday—he barely spoke all day and he looked so strange—he was leading up to this all along, wasn't he, Father?"
Roarke nodded reluctant confirmation, empathetic sorrow in his dark eyes. "He apparently felt it was the only thing he could do, sweetheart," he said softly. "All avenues of escape from the situation are closed off, and I believe he felt he was sacrificing his own happiness so that you could find some."
Leslie fell apart, her churning emotions finally boiling over. "I can't! Father, he's ruined me for anyone else. I can't possibly risk my heart yet again—I gave Christian everything I had. And now, just like everyone else, I've lost him too!"
"Leslie—" Roarke tried to interrupt.
But she was at the absolute end of her rope. "How much loss is one person expected to endure across a lifetime?" she shouted, less at Roarke than at fate itself. "When do I get to give up trying and failing? Where am I going to find that alleged inner strength now?" She heaved in a lungful of air and managed to focus on him. "I can't take it anymore, Father—I just can't!" And with that, she pulled away from him and lurched to her feet, tearing out through the shutters at the same moment Rogan Callaghan came into the foyer. He was just in time to see her go.
"Ach, what on earth happened?" he exclaimed.
Roarke, already stricken, gave a start and instantly stood up. "Welcome, Rogan," he said, sounding very weary.
Rogan came down into the study. "Good morning, uncle, and Happy New Year. Julie asked me to bring over a room list. Is it prying to inquire as to what upset Leslie so?"
"No, I expect it will eventually come out anyway, even if only to those closest to Leslie. Christian left here with his niece not half an hour ago, and when he did, he broke off his relationship with Leslie. He evidently felt that his situation has him so thoroughly ensnared that there is no hope of his ever breaking free."
Rogan winced sharply and drew in a hissing breath through his teeth. "Ach! What a bloody horrible way to begin a new year!" He hesitated a moment. "You don't have any possible ideas to help her get past this, then?"
Roarke actually shrugged in defeat. "None, I'm afraid. My only hope is that this latest loss doesn't irrevocably break Leslie's spirit." He released a long breath and settled behind the desk. "That spice has touched nearly every life I have ever been deeply involved with, and always in some detrimental way. Had I the power to eliminate it and everyone's need for it…" He caught himself when he noticed Rogan watching him and carefully composed himself. "You said you have a room list?"
Rogan nodded and handed it to him. "I've some news as well. Julie's ready to resume full operation of the inn again, with Rory six weeks old now, and I thought I'd take a bit of a business trip. I need to expand my stock and I thought I'd look into growing saffron."
Roarke nodded back. "I wish you luck," he said, "and have a safe journey. You have Julie and Rory to think of."
Rogan smiled at that. "That I do, uncle, that I do. I'll have a progress report when I return, then—I'm sure the hotel and restaurant can use saffron too. I'll be departing on the noon charter."
When he was gone, Roarke sighed once again and shuffled through a pile of mail on the desk. One small, cream-colored envelope caught his eye and he paused, taking a careful look at the return address. His dark eyes lit with interest and he opened the envelope, pulling out the letter within and reading it. A slight smile lit his features just a little, and he glanced out the open shutters. Perhaps, just perhaps, this would change things, one way or the other. He scrutinized his date book, made a couple of changes and notations, then picked up the phone and dialed a number.
A/N: What does Roarke have in mind? Stick around and there will be answers in the next story…