“I . . .” He made a manful attempt to pull himself out of imagination into reality. She was pale as ice, he noted, and her eyes glittered with cold. And, he noted, hurt. “Brianna, what’s going on?”

“A simple question. I’d thank you for an answer to it.”

“Of course I want you. What’s the—what in hell are you doing?” He was out of the chair like a shot, gaping as she began to briskly unbutton her blouse. “Cut it out. Goddamn it, stop that now.”

“You said you want me. I’m obliging you.”

“I said stop.” In three strides he was to her, yanking her blouse together. “What’s gotten into you? What’s happened?”

“That’s neither here nor there.” She could feel herself beginning to shake and fought it back. “You’ve been trying to persuade me into bed, now I’m ready to go. If you can’t spare the time now, just say so.” Her eyes flared. “I’m used to being put off.”

“It’s not a matter of time—”

“Well, then.” She broke away to turn down the bed. “Would you prefer the curtains open or closed? I’ve no preference.”

“Leave the stupid curtains.” The neat way she folded down the covers did what it always did. It made his stomach tighten into a slippery fist of lust. “We’re not going to do this.”

“You don’t want me, then.” When she straightened her open blouse shifted, giving him a tantalizing peek of pale skin and tidy white cotton.

“You’re killing me,” he murmured.

“Fine. I’ll leave you to die in peace.” Head high, she marched for the door. He merely slammed a hand on it to keep it shut.

“You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing, it seems, at least with you.” She pressed herself back against the door, forgetting now to breathe slowly, evenly, to keep the wrenching pain out of her voice. “Surely there’s a man somewhere who might spare a moment or two to give me a tumble.”

He bared his teeth. “You’re pissing me off.”

“Oh, well, that’s a pity. I do beg your pardon. It’s sorry I am to have bothered you. It’s only that I thought you’d meant what you’d said. That’s my problem, you see,” she murmured as tears glistened in her eyes. “Always believing.”

He would have to handle the tears, he realized, and whatever emotional tailspin she was caught in, without touching her. “What happened?”

“I found out.” Her eyes weren’t cold now, but devastated and desperate.
“I found out that there’s never been a man who’s loved me. Not really loved me ever. And that my own mother lied, lied hatefully, to take away even that small chance of happiness. She told him I’d slept with Murphy. She told him that, and that I might be carrying a child. How could he marry me believing that? How could be believe it loving me?”

“Hold on a minute.” He paused, waiting for her quick blur of words to register. “You’re saying that your mother told the guy you were going to marry, this Rory, that you’d been having sex with Murphy, might be pregnant?”

“She told him that so that I couldn’t escape this house.” Leaning her head back she closed her eyes. “This house as it was then. And he believed her. He believed I could have done that, believed it so that he never asked me if it was true. Only told me he wouldn’t have me, and left. And all this time Maggie and Murphy have known it, and kept it from me.”

Tread carefully, Gray warned himself. Emotional quicksand. “Look, I’m on the outside here, and I’d say, being a professional observer, that your sister and Murphy kept their mouths shut to keep you from hurting more than you already were.”

“It was my life, wasn’t it? Do you know what it’s like not to know why you’re not wanted, to go through life only knowing you weren’t, but never why?”

Yeah, he knew, exactly. But he didn’t think it was the answer she wanted. “He didn’t deserve you. That should give you some satisfaction.”

“It doesn’t. Not now. I thought you would show me.”

He stepped cautiously back as the breath clogged in his lungs. A beautiful woman, one who had, from the first instant, stirred his blood. Innocent. Offering. “You’re upset,” he managed in a tight voice. “Not thinking clearly. And as much as it pains me, there are rules.”

“I don’t want excuses.”

“You want a substitute.” The quick violence of the statement surprised both of them. He hadn’t realized that little germ had been in his head. But he lashed out as it grew. “I’m not a goddamn stand-in for some whiny, wimp-hearted jerk who tossed you over a decade ago. Yesterday sucks. Well, welcome to reality. When I take a woman to bed, she’s going to be thinking about me. Just me.”

What little color that had seeped back into her cheeks drained. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, didn’t mean it to seem that way.”

“That’s exactly how it seems, because that’s exactly what it is. Pull yourself together,” he ordered, deadly afraid she would start to cry again. “When you figure out what you want, let me know.”

“I only . . . I needed to feel as if something, you, wanted me. I thought—I hoped I’d have something to remember. Just once, to know what it was like to be touched by a man I cared for.” The color came back, humiliation riding her cheeks as Gray stared at her. “Doesn’t matter. I’m sorry. I’m very sorry.”

She yanked open the door and fled.

She was sorry, Gray thought, staring into the space where she’d been. He could all but see the air vibrate in her wake.

Good going, pal, he thought in disgust as he began to pace the room. Nice job. It always makes someone feel better when you kick them while they’re down.

But damn it, damn it, she’d made him feel exactly as he’d told her. A convenient substitute for some lost love. He felt miserable for her, facing that kind of betrayal, that kind of rejection. There was nothing he understood better. But he’d patched himself up, hadn’t he? So could she.

She’d wanted to be touched. She’d just needed to be soothed. Head pounding, he stalked to the window and back. She’d wanted him—a little sympathy, a little understanding. A little sex. And he’d brushed her off.