All he wanted was the chance to confront the man with what he’d done—what they’d both done. He hoped then he could start looking forward—maybe one day he might even forgive himself. Performing a powerful tumble turn using just one leg, he cruised to the side just as Maxie walked through the door. He huffed a humourless laugh, guessing she’d take one look at his scars and probably faint. Even his brothers had flinched when they had first seen them. Like the painkillers he refused to take, nothing could change the past, but to have her see him stumbling and scarred felt like some sort of penance. His guilt for what had happened all those years ago required constant feeding.
‘Hello, Diego,’ she said, seeming surprised to see him. ‘You don’t mind if I take a swim, do you?’
‘Do you want to wait until I get out?’
‘I can, if that’s what you’d prefer?’
‘No problem for me—help yourself.’ He swung out of the pool on his arms and then, predictably, after his ease of movement in the water where he was weightless, he stumbled. It took him a moment to regain his balance and straighten up. As the pool water streamed from him he waited for the inevitable gasp.
‘Is your leg troubling you again?’ she asked, staring at it intently. ‘I expect the adrenalin from the bike ride has worn off.’ She laughed. ‘Or maybe you’ve overdone it in the pool,’ she said with more concern, glancing at the settling water.
Brushing past her, he reached for a towel. He saw her wince when he staggered, and the next moment she had reached out to grab it for him. ‘I can pick up a towel without your help, thank you.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Diego!’ Picking the towel up, she threw it at him.
Catching the towel knocked him off balance again, and he had to hop a couple of times before he could regain it. ‘Well?’ he demanded when she stood staring at him.
She could see that Diego was trying to keep the pressure off his injured leg, but what else had rattled his cage? The scars, Maxie guessed. They were bad. And she could imagine he didn’t want anyone seeing them. Well, it was too late now. She could see a lot of scar tissue she was sure would loosen if treated with the proper emollients, which suggested to her that Diego had performed his exercises regularly to build back muscle power, but that he had neglected to treat the recovering skin.
And she wasn’t here to offer a diagnosis, Maxie reminded herself firmly. She was here to swim. It was important to remain detached and businesslike, she thought to herself as she removed her sarong. So that was why her hands were trembling.
Thankfully her swimming costume was respectable in the extreme. She went swimming to exercise, not to flaunt her body, though Diego’s lazy appraisal made her wonder why she’d bothered putting a costume on at all.
‘This is a fabulous pool,’ she said, giving herself an excuse to turn away. ‘Would the wedding guests be allowed to use it?’
‘Of course they would.’
Hearing the same tension in his voice, she decided to have it out with him. ‘Have I done something to upset you? I apologise if I have. Or is it your scars?’ she asked bluntly, unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer. ‘Do you think I can’t bear to look at them? Do you think I’m revolted by them? Is that how shallow you think I am?’
‘I have no thoughts on the subject at all.’
‘Really?’ she said in a challenging tone. ‘Then please stop staring at me like that. If you don’t want me to use the pool, I’ll go.’
A cynical smile tugged at Diego’s lips. ‘Brave talk, Maxie.’
‘Brave?’ she said. ‘You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Diego?’
‘What do you mean by that?’ He wasn’t smiling now.
‘You’re brave,’ she said bluntly, holding his cold gaze without blinking. ‘Everyone knows how brave you are. Don’t you prove it each day you exercise to get your strength back? When we all know how monotonous that must be for you, especially with so little to show for it, and just the hope that some time in the future you’ll be fully mobile again. Wasn’t it a brave decision to let your horse live when everyone said his leg was beyond repair and he should be shot? Holly tells me a lot of things about you,’ she said before he could get a word in. ‘So if you’re so brave you won’t mind me touching your scars. You won’t mind me massaging them—easing them—helping you…’
When he threw his fierce dark head back and laughed in her face, she added, ‘Or are you just too damn proud to accept anyone’s help, Diego?’
‘You’ve got some nerve,’ he grated.
‘Yes, I have,’ she agreed in the same calm voice, ‘so you can stop with the menacing act. I’m here. I’m alone. And I’m not afraid of you. What are you afraid of, Diego? Failure? Are you afraid you’ll never play top-class polo again? If that’s the case you’ll let me try to help you. If that’s not the case, then you’re just the most unpleasant man I’ve ever met!’
Diego was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe what she’d said. But someone had to say it. She knew how hideous it must be for him to have her see him in pain, but she was here and there was no avoiding it. Better to tell him what she was thinking, rather than hide behind awkward politeness for the rest of her stay.
‘I believe I can help you,’ she said with conviction. ‘I learned some massage techniques from a physio in the hospital and they helped my mother.’
‘And do you really think I’m going to let you try them out on me?’
‘Why not?’ She held the hostile stare unflinching. ‘What do you have to lose, Diego?’
‘So where my physios have failed you think you can help me?’
‘I can try,’ she said quietly.
‘One of these days you’re going to meet yourself coming back,’ he exclaimed with an angry gesture.
She could see where Diego was coming from. Yes, she was pushy, and, yes, she was taking a risk in offering to try, but she had always tried to help and she couldn’t shake that off just because Diego hated her seeing him like this.
Everyone felt vulnerable sometimes. ‘Please let me try, Diego. It can’t do any harm, can it?’
His expression suggested she had better not get this wrong.
MAXIE was already regretting her reckless offer—maybe because her natural impulse to help had never been challenged by such rampant maleness before. Diego was relaxing on one arrogant hip and staring down at her, as if daring her to touch him—and the truth was she wasn’t so sure she dared.
‘There’s oil on the table,’ he said, with the mocking smile firmly fixed on his lips.
‘What is this?’ She turned the bottle in her hands.
It was a potion he had bartered for with some quack in return for a lead rope and a packet of mints. ‘I don’t know. It’s massage oil. Does it matter what it is?’
As she turned to look at him he wondered if this was the moment when she’d make some last-minute excuse and pull out. But, no—removing the cork, she sniffed the liquid inside the bottle.
‘It certainly smells like muscle relaxant.’ Upending the bottle, she rubbed some between her thumb and fingers. ‘And I think there are emollients in here too. I don’t think it matters where it comes