Love, Come to Me(102)

“Just what are you asking?”

“Raine and I have you in common, Heath.” Was that really her voice, so poisonously soft? “But just how much? How well has she known you? As well as I have? Were you ever lovers?”

He looked at her as if he didn’t recognize her. “Damn you for asking that.”

“Were you lovers?”

“If that makes a difference to you, then you can go to hell!”

“Were you?” she whispered.

“No,” he said, breathing hard, looking more outraged than she had ever seen him. “No. Not then, not now.”

“You can stop glaring at me like that. You invited all of this by bringing her here. You brought it on your own head, so don’t blame me for asking questions.”

“You’re unbelievable,” he said in a low voice, and it wasn’t a compliment. “It amazes me that there was ever a time I thought you needed toughening up.”

“Would you prefer someone more . . . helpless?”

Even Lucy had to admit that she had pushed him too far. Heath turned away from her and clenched his fists, so angry that he couldn’t see straight. A little bit afraid of him, Lucy walked past him and paused at the door, glancing at his rigid back.

“I don’t want this situation to continue indefinitely, Heath. I can tolerate having her here for a few days, but that’s all. If this turns into a contest of who can stay here the longest, I guarantee she’ll outlast me, because I can’t take too much of this.”

“What the hell have you turned into?”

A woman who loves you. A woman who is afraid she’ll lose you.

“I’m trying to be honest with you,” she said.

“Like hell you’re trying to be honest. Why don’t you just admit that this is all because of petty jealousy? And if you’re really this insecure, and you don’t have any more trust in me than this, then I don’t know you as well as I thought I did. I thought I understood enough about you to make this marriage work.”

“This marriage was working just fine before you brought her here. Do you think it’s reasonable to make this kind of demand of me? Do you think it’s fair?”

“No,” he said tersely, “I don’t.”

She was disconcerted by his admission. “Then . . . I don’t understand why you’re asking me to put up with this.”

Heath paused for a long time. When he spoke, he was so quiet and matter-of-fact that Lucy suddenly felt like an overemotional child.

“I won’t always be able to give you a reason for everything I do. But I don’t ask you to justify everything you do. Who said that things between us are always going to be fair? Marriage doesn’t work that way. There are no contracts between us. The only guarantees are those I gave you when I put that ring on your finger.”

Chapter 12

Under the circumstances, Lucy thought she did well at playing the gracious hostess. She did her best to ensure that no one could find fault with her household or her hospitality, and outwardly there were no signs of disharmony between any of the four of them. The conversations were conducted with exquisite politeness—at times, they were so careful that it seemed like a mockery of ordinary courtesy. It was a week in her life that she would forever look back on with distaste, but it was a highly instructive time. She learned about many new things, including the considerable differences between Southern women and Northern ones.

Amy and Raine possessed an artfulness and a charm that Lucy could only marvel at in a half-disparaging, half-envious way. In addition to their other talents, they had the ability to invite compliments and flattery with every breath they took. It was an art that even Amy, who was barely in her teens, seemed to have mastered. No matter how a conversation began, it always wound its way back to them. No Northern woman would ever attempt to give a man a wide-eyed look and say, “Oh, what a goose I am,” or “I just don’t know anything about anything,” but Raine did. It annoyed Lucy to distraction, but she had to admit that Raine was appealing when she put on such airs.

Though she wouldn’t begin to claim that she knew a great deal about the workings of men’s minds, Lucy was certain that any man, no matter who he was, would find Raine attractive. Did Heath admire that kind of behavior in a woman? Lucy was disheartened by the thought. Why had Heath encouraged her to use her mind if he wanted a woman who didn’t like to talk about important things? Why did he encourage her to argue with him if he wanted someone who would smile and agree with everything he said? Had it all been some kind of test that she had failed?

Heath had never been so puzzling to her. Everything she had come to associate with him—his attitudes, his sense of humor, his beliefs—all of that went slightly askew when the two Southern women were present. He was different around them. Ordinarily he was irritated by pointless chattering. Why, then, did he tolerate this nonsense?

Gone were the fascinating dinnertime conversations about politics and the Examiner. Raine and Amy didn’t want to talk about the news and popular debates; they talked about local gossip, as if the world revolved around their tiny county in Virginia. Heath didn’t seem to mind. He listened indulgently to them, laughed at their clever mimicking of people he had once known, and handed out compliments whenever they were called for. Lucy thought little of such automatic and meaningless flattery, and she was glad that Heath didn’t attempt to direct any of it her way. It would have been an insult to her intelligence. Silently she sat through these witless conversations and occupied herself with wondering about what thoughts lurked behind Raine’s silvery eyes.