The Rogue (The Moorehouse Legacy #4)(47)

“Look, if you’ve come here because you want me to help you with her—”

“I have.”

“I can’t do that. Mad’s a grown-up. So are you.”

Amelia looked out a window, avoiding his stare, blinking a lot. “Of course, you’re right. It’s just…have you ever wished you could take something back? Take…things back. Undo actions?”

Running theme of his life, Spike thought, that constant reassessment of the past. At least for him, he kept coming to the same conclusion, that what he’d done was heinous but…justified by the need to protect someone who couldn’t defend herself against a larger, deadly opponent.

Amelia clearly had no such perspective on her acts.

“It hasn’t been—” Her voice cracked. “It hasn’t been until recently that I’ve realized how much one person can make another hurt.”

When he didn’t reply, she dropped her head, the defeat in her totally at odds with her incredible beauty. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“It’s never too late,” he said, wanting to ease her because her misery was so complete.

Amelia looked over at him, her gray eyes shining with tears. “Sometimes…sometimes it is. And it appears I’ve learned that too late.”

Wait a minute, Spike thought. That expression. That look…something about it triggered his memory. Yes, from his days at La Nuit…Stefan Reichter…Amelia.

Holy…Moses.

Stefan Reichter had always been a high-flying, great-looking, trust fund junkie; a bachelor catch if there ever was one. The gossips had maintained he’d loved only one woman, a secret woman whom he’d had a long dramatic love affair with before meeting this new, pregnant wife of his. Evidently, the secret lover had spent a couple of years giving the jet-setting playboy a run for his money—and had made him miserable by winning.

The woman’s identity had never been known because evidently she’d told him she wouldn’t see him in public because he was too Euro-trashy for her tastes. According to city whispers, Stefan had broken it off with this phantom about a year ago because he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Good Lord,” Spike said. “You were Stephan’s…”

And that’s why Spike had thought he’d seen Amelia before. It had been at La Nuit right before he’d left. She’d looked as crushed as she did now…and she’d been sitting at a table with Stefan and Estella.

Amelia started to leave, as if she wished she hadn’t come, as if she feared what he was remembering. As she passed him in the doorway, he shook his head.

“You were the one, weren’t you. Stefan’s secret lover who broke his heart.” Amelia stumbled at the name and Spike caught her with his hand. “You’re the one.”

*

Mad slipped out of her bedroom door and padded down the hall. It was ridiculous to feel like she was sneaking around when she was an adult, but that’s what it seemed like.

During the long night hours, she’d despaired that she and Spike weren’t laying together. They had so little time left and it was passing quickly. And that was why she needed to be with him now, before the day got rolling, before the shareholders arrived, before…she had to say goodbye to him when there were eyes around.

Keeping as quiet as possible, she jogged down the corridor and went around the corner—

She skidded to a halt. Amelia was standing in Spike’s doorway wearing a silk robe. Spike was gripping the woman’s arm urgently…while wearing just a towel and an open shirt. He looked as if he were trying to pull her back inside.

Mad’s first response was that there must be some kind of explanation. Spike wouldn’t do that to her. He wouldn’t—

“You’re the one,” he said.

Mad recoiled as if she’d been sucker-punched.

Ducking back out of sight, she clamped her hands over her mouth to keep from screaming…or maybe it was to catch herself when she threw up.

Wheeling around blindly, she took off, making no noise in her bare feet as she raced back to her room.

When she got there, instinct took over where pain rendered her numb and stupid. She yanked on a pair of jeans, pushed her feet into her Nikes, and shoved the few things she’d brought with her for the weekend into her bag. She didn’t bother to change shirts, and flashed out of her bedroom with her duffel while wearing the tank top she’d slept in.

She was down the stairs and crossing the foyer at a race/walk when Richard’s voice cut through the nightmare.

“Where are you going?”

She didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t stop, just punched through the front door and made a beeline for her Viper.

As she tossed her bag into the passenger seat, Richard grabbed her elbow. “What the hell is going on?”

“I’m leaving.” She ripped her arm free and got in the car, jabbing the key into the ignition.

He kept her from shutting the door by gripping the top of the thing. “Why?”

She glanced up at him and his little smile told her he suspected the reason. Hell, he’d probably invited Amelia up for the weekend for the sole purpose of enticing Spike.

Mad pegged her half brother with hard eyes, utterly unafraid of him for the first time in her life. “You know exactly why.”