“Why shouldn’t I be? I scored, didn’t I? Let her say what she wants if it’ll soothe her ego. The truth is, I set out to seduce her. I lied to her and lured her into my bed. I’m the same bastard I’ve always been.”
Prissy came away from the fence to stand beside him. “You could have let her down easy. You’ve got a knack for keeping ex-lovers as friends. Why not Ellie?”
Clay shrugged his shoulders. “Too much trouble,” he said, but a nerve twitched in his cheek.
Prissy eyed him strangely. “Why am I not convinced?”
“That’s your problem. I seduced her. When I had my fill, I dumped her. If you want to blame someone, blame me.” Clay turned away.
“I don’t get it. She’s trying to protect you after all the shit you’ve given her. You’re staying away from her, making her hate you on purpose. Why?”
“Leave it alone, Prissy.” He pulled Max’s reins loose from the top rail of the fence and slipped them over the animal’s head. Max nickered softly, and Clay stroked the horse’s thick neck.
“Why, Clay?” Prissy asked softly. “Why would you treat Ellie so badly? It isn’t like you to be cruel to someone on purpose.” She reached out to him then, saw him stiffen even before her fingers touched his cheek. Gently, she turned his face with her hand, forcing him to look at her. Prissy sucked in a breath at the pain, the crushing despair that went beyond sadness to the outer limits of grief.
Her expression changed to pity. “Oh, dear God, Clay, you’re in love with her.”
Clay closed his eyes. The lump in his throat closed so tight he couldn’t speak. His chest felt leaden. His stomach gnawed without pity. He could hear Ellie’s voice echoing in his mind.It was my fault—not his!
What had he done to her? He’d seen the pity on their faces, known how much she hated that, but he could do nothing. Nothing could ease the hurt he had caused.
“Don’t you understand? I’m no good for her. Ellie isn’t like the rest of us. She’s special. She deserves someone who can make her happy. She certainly doesn’t need a man like me.”
“She doesn’t want someone else, Clay,” Prissy said softly. “She wants you.”
Clay looked out across the practice ring, watching the riders and seeing only Ellie’s stricken face as he’d left her that day in London. His gaze dropped to the leather reins he gripped too tightly in his hands.
“I betrayed her trust. I did something she could never forgive, something evenIcan’t forgive.”
“It can’t be that bad.”
“I left her that morning. I went off with my father with no regard for her feelings. All I cared about was my male ego and my father’s approval. I behaved like an animal. There were drugs involved, other women. I feel sick inside, Prissy. Sick and disgusted. What I did, I can’t undo. Not ever.” The words felt wrenched from his soul. Each rang with sadness, each was a condemnation, a death knell.
Prissy touched his cheek. Her hand felt warm and comforting and he thought of Ellie, the way she’d touched him that morning at breakfast.How long will you be gone?
Too long, he’d said. Too long had become an eternity. He could never go back. Never repair the damage he’d done. He would never again feel the happiness he’d known when he was with her.
“We all make mistakes, Clay. Even Ellie.”
“It’s better this way. I could never be a one-woman man. I’m too much like my father.”
“You’re nothing like Avery. Haven’t you figured that out?”
Clay released a bitter sigh. “I suppose that’s the one thing I have learned from all of this.”
Prissy pulled a tissue from the pocket of her breeches and dabbed it against the fresh trickle of blood in the corner of Clay’s mouth. “Then it isn’t too late.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Prissy.”
“Don’t throw away this chance, Clay.”
His chest tightened with a fresh rush of self-loathing. His face felt so bloodless he knew he looked more pallid than tan. “You don’t understand—I threw everything away when I left her in that hotel room.”
His stomach gnawed in pain. He almost relished it. The pain was the only thing that felt real. Until these past few moments, he’d left his emotions in Monaco. He’d destroyed himself for a woman he cared nothing about. A woman he would remember as the one who encouraged his destruction.
Clay took a breath, masking the misery he felt inside. He’d spent the week turning his feelings into a carefully guarded void. Prissy had opened the wound, but soon he’d be able to close it, block thoughts of Ellie as if she’d never existed. He’d taught himself well.
As a child it had been a necessity. As a man, he was even more adept. Soon there’d be no outward signs of the emptiness that ate at him like the ulcer he fed.
