Love, Come to Me(101)

“She had no place to stay. And I thought it was better for Amy’s sake that she accompany us up here. You and I are strangers to Amy, and Raine’s the only familiar—”

“Oh, spare me this,” Lucy interrupted, whirling around and going to the window. “It wasn’t for Amy’s good that you brought Raine here. And you could have seen that Raine had the means to stay in a hotel for a few days.”

“Ah, that would certainly be the gentlemanly thing to do. Leave a young, recently bereaved widow alone in a hotel—”

“And we both know you didn’t bring her here because you’re such a damned gentleman, either.”

“Then tell me why we think I brought her here,” he said, in tones dripping with sweetness.

Lucy pressed her forehead against the cool frostiness of the windowpane, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. “When you were ill with fever . . .”she began, and the room became deadly quiet, “you seemed to think you were living in the past, in the times just before the war and during it. You talked on and off about the fighting, about your parents, your friends . . . but most of all . . . you talked about her. Raine.” She gave a strangled laugh. “I’m sick of that name, I’ve heard it so much. You begged her not to marry Clay. You talked about how beautiful she was . . . you said . . . that you . . . loved her.” Slowly she turned around. Heath’s face was carefully blank, like that of a statue. “Why didn’t you ever mention her to me before that?” she asked in a soft, thin voice.

“It wasn’t necessary.”

“What happened? Why did she marry Clay?”

“Because he was a Price. A legitimate Price. The Prices were a large and influential family before the war. I was nothing but a by-blow. Raine and I came to care for each other, but I made the mistake of introducing her to my half brother . . . it didn’t take long for them to become engaged.”

Oh, God. If he could forgive Raine for that, he must care for her deeply. Lucy writhed inwardly at the injustice of it. How could he still want Raine after the way she had treated him?

“You don’t seem to blame her for choosing Clay over you,” she said sharply.

“At the time I did blame her.” A ghost of a smile curved his mouth. “Hell, yes, I blamed her, cursed her, thought up hundreds of ways to get back at her. But the feelings have changed over time. I understand why she did it now. I never realized how powerless, how dependent women are . . . Raine made the only decision she could have. She didn’t have the freedom to choose any other way. It was obvious that Clay, with his money and his name, was able to provide for her in a way that I couldn’t have.”

“You’re making excuses for her. She didn’t have to choose Clay. His name, his money, his family, shouldn’t have made any difference—”

“I didn’t think you’d be the kind to blame her for what she did. You would have married Daniel for the very same reasons she married Clay.”

“That’s not true!” Lucy gasped in surprise. “There’s a big difference. I loved Daniel.”

“Did you?” Heath shook his head slowly and smiled in a tired way. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I finally understood everything while I was in prison camp. I learned a lot of things on Governor’s Island, especially about what it’s like to be helpless. I had no control over what happened to me. I accepted what was given to me, took as much advantage as I could out of every situation, but ultimately I was helpless. For the first time in my life. Well, so was Raine. So were you.”

“I’m not helpless anymore!”

“No, you’re not. You’ve changed. But Raine hasn’t. She’ll always be helpless.”

“Why are you the one who has to protect her? Are you planning to provide for her the rest of her life?”

“No. She’ll find someone to take care of her soon. It’s what she’s best at. All I’m asking is that you put up with her for the next few days. It’s not forever.”

“I assume that you’ll be going to work as usual?” As Heath nodded curtly, Lucy couldn’t help the sneer that rose to her lips. “That’s what I thought. Tell me, what am I supposed to do with Amy and Raine? What should I say to Raine? How can I look at her and carry on a civil conversation when all I can remember is how you raved in a delirium about her for two days straight?”

“Remember this,” he said with stinging softness. “There is nothing between Raine and me. There hasn’t been for years. Remember that she’s been through hell during the last few years. Remember that while you were sitting next to the candy jar in your father’s store and flirting with the customers, she was afraid of Yankees burning the house down over her head, of being raped, of being killed, of starving. She’s been through the death of her husband, and she’s seen her friends and neighbors nearly kill each other over the Reconstruction issues that you like to discuss over coffee and dessert now and then. When you start feeling sorry for yourself, remember that.”

“How lucky she is,” Lucy replied, her eyes cold, “to have you to defend her from me.”

Heath swore and raked his hand through his hair. He turned abruptly and poured himself another drink.

“Maybe it won’t be difficult to find something to talk with her about. She and I have so much in common. Don’t we, Heath?” She stared at him until he set his glass down and met her gaze squarely.