Forever My Love (Berkeley-Faulkner #2)(27)

“You said ‘we’... so there was someone else traveling with you in France?”

“No,” she said quickly—too quickly. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

“What about your family? You had to come from somewhere.”

“I have no family.”

“Who took care of you when you were younger?”

“Is this why you came riding by? To satisfy your curiosity with prying questions?” Mira demanded.

“Why the devil are you so defensive? You’re right, they are prying questions, and I’ll be damned if I ask you another one. Be mysterious if you like.”

She was silent for a minute, so surprised by his unexpected retreat that she did something she had never anticipated doing. She told him a little about Guillaume.

“My brother took care of me. He and I went all over France, from place to place.” At Alec’s noncommittal silence, she even dared to say more. “My brother made friends easily… but they were always a dangerous kind of people, fighting and… I learned how to treat wounds, and how to set bones, and I found that I could feel how to make things right sometimes.”

“Like you did with my shoulder.”

“Yes. Sometimes it is not that easy. But I am able to help often, and it makes me feel useful… it is the only way that I have ever been ne…”

“Needed?” Alec asked softly, and she shook her head, horrified at the way she kept on making mistakes around him.

“No,” she said, shaking her head firmly, “I don’t know what I was going to say, I was just rambling.”

“But doesn’t Sackville need you?” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Doesn’t being his woman make you feel useful and needed?”

“Of course it does.”

“How could it?” Alec asked, a faintly savage note shading his voice. Mira stiffened, but he pulled her back against him with a slight motion of his arm. “He doesn’t really need you, Mira, not like someone else could. He might enjoy you, he might receive pleasure from your delectable little body, but even when he waxes poetic about you, even when he chatters about the two of you together until I’d like to gag him, there is no passion in his voice. Just smugness. Why is that, Mira?”

A violent conflict raged inside her. She was a prisoner, held against him and being forced to listen to words she did not want to hear. He was coming closer and closer to the truth, and it was becoming impossible to continue misleading him. He seemed to be able to see right through her lies and evasions, and his acute perception alarmed her.

“Do you think I would be living with him if he didn’t need me?” she asked, countering his questions with a few of her own. “Why do you think I’m staying at the manor for any other reason than that?”

“I don’t know why you’re living with him,” Alec admitted roughly. “But it damn well isn’t for the reason that everyone assumes it is. Perhaps it isn’t even for the reason that you think it is. Does he ever tell you that he needs you for yourself?”

“All the time.”

“Does he tell you that he dreams about you? That when he thinks about you, every other sane thought flies from his head? That when you smile at him, his heart pounds as if he’s been running for hours… that he was buried alive until he met you, never knowing the taste of real hunger until he became afraid that he couldn’t have you? That’s how you should be needed,; and don’t tell me you prefer his milk-and-water passion to real desire, or I’ll show you the difference between—”

“We’re here,” Mira said, her voice trembling. She was so unsettled that she doubted she would be of much use to any member of the Daniel family now. “Mind what you say in front of these people… and please, please don’t talk to me about this anymore. There is so much you don’t understand…”

Holding the reins, Alec dismounted first and grasped her waist in his hands, staring up at her.

“Then explain it to me,” he said huskily. “Soon.” Unable to speak, she looked away, and he chose that moment to unseat her, lowering her against his body and then holding her there. Her hands fluttered up to his broad chest in protest, her body molded tightly against the hard, well-knit surface of his. “Soon,” he repeated, not letting her go until she looked up at him uncertainly and gave him a tiny nod.

The Daniels, a small farming family, lived in a quaint cottage. Their yard was edged with a hedgerow studded with large, durable elm trees. The earthy scent of a peat fire permeated the air, while the sounds of chortling geese drifted from the grounds in back of the cottage. Mira pulled away from Alec hastily as the door of the small home burst open. Two little girls with curly brown hair and rosy-cheeked round faces ran up to Mira without hesitation, chattering and giggling. Mira dropped to her haunches, setting her bag down on the ground and opening it deftly.

“These are the twins, my lord,” she said. “Mary and Kitty… oh dear, I never know which one of you is which… ah, I know now—Kitty is just a little shy, aren’t you, ma chireT’ Mira beamed at the little girl who stood behind her sister. Alec smiled as the children bent over and stared into the bag that Mira had brought, their brown curls bobbing excitedly. Triumphantly Mira pulled out a bulging paper-wrapped parcel. “C’est le cadeau, almond biscuits this time,” she said, handing the parcel to Mary. “Now, you must share these with each other while I visit with your parents… and while I am inside, you may ask this nice man questions about his handsome horse, but don’t tire him or he will not be pleasant company on our journey back.” She glanced at Alec’s wry expression, and then she stood up with her bag in hand. “I won’t be long,” she murmured.