She dropped her hands and gazed at him with murderous fury. “Are you pleased? Pleased? That you have proved just how manly you are—and just what a whore I am?”
His eyes widened.
“Do you what you will,” she said, choking a fistagainst her mouth. “Damn you, God damn you, how I hate you, O’Neill! How I hate myself.”
He stared at her. “You are not a whore, Katherine. We both know that,” he said harshly.
Katherine covered her face with her hands. Waiting for him to touch her. But he did not.
“Don’t cry, Katherine.”
Katherine heard him but ignored him. She was struggling to control her hysteria—and her sudden, complete hatred for this man, who had seduced her so easily.
She heard him cursing savagely, and then he cut her legs free. Instantly Katherine rolled away from him, sitting up with her back to him. Maybe he would, miraculously, leave her alone now. She doubted it.
Silence filled the room. Suddenly he touched her shoulder from behind. Katherine froze.
“You are not a whore,” he repeated. “Don’t do this to yourself. What we did is the most natural act between a man and a woman, Katherine. Especially with the kind of desire we share.”
Katherine whirled. “We do not share desire!” she shouted, knowing full well that she lied.
His expression was restrained, yet clearly skeptical.
Katherine wished that she had not turned to face him. Especially after uttering such a blatant lie. She found herself staring. His gray eyes glittered. A trickle of perspiration teased his temple. His nostrils were slightly flared; his breathing was hardly steady. Cords stood out in his strong neck. Katherine saw his pulse beating there, thick and strong and steady.
His shirt was damp with sweat and completely unlaced, revealing his muscular chest, and much of his flat belly. She knew she should not look any lower, but her glance slipped just once—and once was enough.
He was a stunning man, as powerful of body as he was of mind and will, and he was still heavily aroused.
He had been watching her, following her gaze. “That’s right. I still want you, Katherine. I still need you.”
She wanted to plug her ears. Even his words had power—even his words were seductive. “But I don’t wantyou.” His glance skewered her and Katherine had the grace to blush. Before he could point out the obvious fact that she had just wanted him very much, she said, “My body may want you, but I want Hugh.”
His jaw tightened. Unpleasantly, he said, “You thought him dead for six years. Do you try to tell me that you have remained faithful in your heart and mind for all that time to a man you supposed dead?”
She had hardly even thought of him in all those years, not after the first few months of mourning, but she nodded. “I love him. He is my betrothed; soon we will be wed.”
Liam smiled. It was a very dangerous smile. “Really?”
Katherine tensed. “Yes.”
Suddenly he moved closer, towering over her. “I don’t think so,” he said.
He couldn’t possibly know her most secret fears—that Hugh had long since forgotten about her and had no intention of marrying her. “You think wrongly,” she whispered. It was hard to get the words out.
“Do I?” His lips curled. Their gazes locked. A silent moment crackled and sizzled between them. “We will find out soon enough, Katherine, won’t we—whether your lover truly wants you?”
“Yes,” Katherine managed, gripping the coverlet.
Liam stood very still. “And when he casts you aside—will you come to me freely, then?”
She inhaled. The sound was loud and sharp, cutting the air like a whip.
“Will you?” he demanded, his eyes blazing. “Then will you come to me freely?”
“No.”
He stared for the space of a single heartbeat, then wheeled and strode away. As he slammed the door hard behind him, Katherine collapsed on the bed in a heap. And it was a very long time before she even thought of sleep.
