Twice Tempted by a Rogue (Stud Club #2)(88)

“I love you, Rhys,” she said again. Because what was one more time, after all? She laid her trembling fingers against his wrist. “Rhys? Please. Say something.”

And after a long, excruciating moment, he spoke exactly one word.

“Fuck.”

She nodded. Not what she’d been hoping for, but somehow unarguably fitting.

“Fuck,” he said again, louder this time. The curse echoed through the dark. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m so sorry. Until yesterday, I had no idea you’d been blaming yourself all this time. I imagined you thought the fire was an accident. Because it was. It was a stupid, tragic accident.”

He raised his head. “How could you keep that from me? Can you have any idea what difference it would have made, if I’d known that all this time?”

“That I threw the lantern? Or that I love you?”

“Both. Can you possibly imagine—” He made a strangled noise in his throat. “For God’s sake, my whole damned wasted life …”

“I’m sorry. So sorry. I wish I could have told you sooner, but—”

“But what, Meredith? You could have told me sooner. You could have told me weeks ago. At least the latter bit.”

Her heart squeezed. Scrambling to her knees, she turned to him and wrapped her arms about his shoulders. She simply had to hold him. “I’m telling you now, Rhys. I love you.”

His muscles went rigid. “I said, don’t touch me. Not in this place.”

“All right. I understand.” Reluctantly, she let her arms slide from his shoulders and settled back on the floor. “Don’t you see? You don’t owe this village anything. You don’t owe me anything. But you owe it to yourself, after all this time and all this pain, to find your own happiness. If you could find true contentment here, I’d want nothing more than to share it with you. But if not …” Despite her quivering lips, she willed her voice to be strong. “Then you should go.”

He sat in silence. His breath came so quick, she could feel the cellar’s humidity increasing by the second. Brushing the dust from his trousers, he rose to his feet and tossed a plank on the fire before wiping clean another bottle of brandy.

“Don’t you want to talk about this?”

Crash. The bottleneck broke against a stone. “Talk about what?” he asked tightly, sloshing brandy into his cup.

“You. Us. The past. The future.” Could he forgive her, or couldn’t he?

He didn’t answer, only drank.

She forced herself to be patient. After all she’d told him tonight … about the fire, about her feelings … she’d altered everything he knew about himself, his past. And everything he knew about her. He must be overwhelmed, just struggling to make sense of it all. And to make it all worse, they were trapped in this place where he’d endured so much pain. Perhaps conversation was beyond him at the moment. For God’s sake, she was surprised that standing wasn’t beyond him at the moment.

It certainly didn’t come easy to her. Using a nearby crate for support, she rose to her feet on wobbly legs.

“I know you must be upset,” she said carefully.

“I’m not upset.”

“Of course you’re upset.” How could he keep denying the obvious? “You’re angry as hell. It’s natural, Rhys. It’s all right to show it.”

“Why would I be angry?” He sliced the air with his hand, and brandy splashed from his cup. A few drops landed on Meredith’s arm. Others spattered and sparked in the fire. His emotions, by contrast, remained at a quiet smolder. “The fire wasn’t my fault. You say you love me, always have. The last fourteen years of torment were all just a big mistake. I should be happy, shouldn’t I? Goddamned ecstatic. Stop telling me I’m angry.”

“Very well. You’re not angry.”

A tense silence followed.

“Just what are you expecting?” he finally asked. His voice was flat. “Tell me what reaction you’re waiting to see. Am I supposed to fly into a rage and smash crates against the wall? Lay my head in your lap and weep while you croon sweet words and stroke my hair? Or … or I know. You’re hoping I’ll push up your skirts and pump you like an animal all night long. Because somehow a few hours of rutting will erase decades of living hell.” He shook his head. “You’re good, Merry. But not that good.”

She tried not to let his words hurt her. “No. I’m not expecting any hysterics, nor any … rutting. But I’ve given you a great deal to absorb, and this place would make anyone feel a bit crazed.” She reached out to lay a hand on his arm, striving for a soothing touch. “We’ll make it through this. Come sit with me and wait out the night.”

“I said, don’t touch me.” He whipped his arm from her grasp and took a lunging step back. He leveled a finger at her. “I mean it, Merry. Stay away from me right now. I don’t trust myself.”

“All right.” Tears burned in her eyes as she slid back to the pile of furs. “All right. I won’t bother you further.”

She lay down on her side, hugging herself against the cold. He slunk to the opposite side of the fire and crouched there, leaning his back against a barrel and stacking his arms on his knees.