Page 40 of His Innocent Unwrapped In Iceland

He knew that was only the truth and yet... Why did it feel as if he could have done things differently? As if he’d let his son slip through his fingers. As if he hadn’t fought for him at all.

And you’re doing the same thing now.

The thought slid through him, sharp and insidious, and abruptly he was sick of talking.

He shifted one hand to her hip and gripped it, before sliding his fingers up her inner thigh. ‘I’m tired of talking about this,’ he said roughly. ‘I’d prefer to do something else.’

But Isla ignored him. ‘Why haven’t you looked for him?’

The question felt like the edge of a knife against his skin. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ he snapped. ‘This subject is closed.’ It was a warning and he’d intended it to be.

Yet again, she just ignored him, her gaze searching. ‘What are you afraid of?’

The knife slid into him, so sharp he barely felt the cut. But he certainly felt the pain, bright and hot.

You know what you’re afraid of. That he’ll blame you. That he’ll tell you that you didn’t fight hard enough. That you didn’t want him enough. That he needed you and you weren’t there for him.

The water was warm, but he felt the ice in his gut, sharp as a sliver of glass.

He needed distance. He needed to get away from Isla and her interrogation, prompting him to question things he hadn’t questioned for years. To think about the boy he’d given up, the sacrifice he’d made because he’d thought it was the right thing.

It might have been, but then you cut him out of your life. How is that being a good father?

It wasn’t; that was the issue. What man repudiated his own son?

You never build. You only destroy.

He shoved the thought away and gently, but firmly, put Isla from his lap and back onto the stone seat.

‘Orion?’

He didn’t look at her, pushing himself off the seat and moving over to the stairs.

‘Orion.’ There was a splash and when he glanced behind him, she was moving through the water after him. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’ She was upset, he could see that, her golden hair streaming down her back and floating like pretty golden kelp around her white shoulders. Her gaze had darkened. ‘Please don’t go.’

But the sliver of glass in the centre of his heart, the kernel of ice that had settled there the day he’d left his son for the final time, wouldn’t go away. And everything she said only made him more aware of it. More aware of the pain and the rage that he’d thought had been vanquished and hadn’t.

He shouldn’t be around her when he was like this. It wasn’t fair on either of them.

‘I have some work to catch up on.’ He tried to make his voice sound gentle and yet there was nothing of gentleness in him. ‘You can stay here for as long as you like. The northern lights are—’

‘I don’t care about the northern lights.’ The heat of the water had flushed her cheeks a deep pink and with her darkened eyes, she looked like a painting. A Venus in the water. ‘I hurt you.’

He laughed because the idea that he’d let anyone hurt him was preposterous. Yet the sound wasn’t quite as amused as it should have been. ‘You didn’t.’ He turned away, because if he didn’t get out now he was going to ruin her present with his mood and that was unacceptable. ‘There are towels—’

Slender arms slid around his waist, holding him tight and a soft, warm body pressed up against his back. He stilled, his heart beating uncomfortably fast.

‘Please don’t go,’ Isla whispered. ‘It won’t be the same if you’re not here.’

It felt as if there was a large boulder sitting on his chest and he wasn’t sure why. ‘I’m not in the mood for swimming.’ His voice was too rough. ‘And I don’t want to spoil it for you.’

‘You won’t spoil it for me. I was pushing and I shouldn’t have, and I’ll stop.’

The tightness in his chest shifted. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll still see you in bed later.’

‘I don’t... It’s not about sex.’ Her arms closed tighter around him. ‘I want you, your company. Please. Don’t let me push you away.’

A cold shock went through him. Is that how she saw it? Did she think this was her fault? Her questions might have touched on some old wounds, but it was his baggage they were dealing with, not hers.

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