The beginnings of anger unfurled in him, under the panic. What was she talking about? Why wouldn’t shelisten? “I don’t understand any of this. I’ve gotten what I wanted? What I want is for you to tell me why the hell you’re so bloody angry.”
Silence stretched between them. He folded his arms before him. Maybe it was those weren’t the most eloquent words he’d ever spoken, and maybe it was he could have phrased it better, but he wanted to know what her damn problem was. He’d not told her he was employed by a coal company, and truth be told, he should have. Yet, he’d not lied to her since. He’d not lied to her about how he felt about her.
She stared at him, disbelief and a kind of misery wrapping her. “Are you kidding me?”
His fingers tightened on her arm. “I believe it to be patently obvious that I’m not.”
“Youliedto me. You came to Ironwood, to my saloon, and you lied. When that didn’t work, what? You thought you could seduce me? Get the widow good and bedded and she’ll eat out of your hand?”
This…he had never expected this. Releasing her arm, he stared at her. She truly thought that?
“Did you laugh? Did you joke about how easy it was to worm your way into my bed? And, like an idiot, I told you of Paris. Perfect, wasn’t it? I made it so easy for you, didn’t I?”
He couldn’t think. She truly believed him so callow as to treat her such? Did she notknowhim? All this time, all the moments together, and she thought he’d beenlying?
“What the hell are you talking of?” The land of his birth bled into his words, the Welsh heralding his anger.
“You used me, and you had no intention of ever telling me the truth.”
It was worse than a slap. Disbelief filled him, and a soul deep pain. With those words, she’d discounted the last month, every night in her bed, every morning in her arms. All the times they’d spoken, all the things they’d said. All of it, gone.
Anger rose, a harsh burn to disguise the pain. “You are a fool.”
“Me?” She laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “I’m the fool? That’s rich, coming fromyou.”
He ignored her words. “You truly believe I would do such a thing? You believe I would use what was between us for the sake of a fucking company?” His voice rose in volume, until he was fairly shouting and barely legible under the Welsh. “I was searching for a way to tell you. I waslegally boundnot to tell anyone, but for you, I tried. I would have found a way.”
She flinched, and he was grimly pleased to see she looked uncertain. Then, she squared her shoulders and any uncertainty fled. “But you didn’t tell me. I gave you every chance, every opportunity. You chose to remain silent. I don’t care what you intended. I don’t care if you were going to tell me next week, or tomorrow, or two hours from now. You kept your council, and you used what I told you to get what you wanted. We’re done.”
Fury almost choked him. “We’re what?”
“We’re done.” God, she said it as if it wereeasy.“Don’t touch me. Don’t speak to me. If you see me on one side of the street, you will cross to the other. Do you understand?”
“You’ve made up your mind, have you?” A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You’ve decided I’m a vile seducer, is that it? I fucked you for your land, did I? And now I’m to be tried and sentenced with no defence?”
Her gaze flickered. Hope rose in him, a tiny ember that needed only the smallest sign from her to flare. Breath trapped in his chest, he swallowed and willed her to believe him, to see how ridiculous this was.
But then, her eyes hardened, and all hope died. “Never speak to me again.” Her voice was terrible.
And with that, she left. She stormed from his rooms, her skirts swishing about her, her back ramrod straight as she slammed the door behind her.
Anger, impotent and fierce, swirled within him. He needed to release it, he needed to—
Picking up the wash jug, he hurled it at the floor. It shattered, the sound satisfying for a moment or two. God, why didn’t she listen, why didn’t she let him explain? She’d stood there in her anger and her contempt, and she’d spouted words filled with misconceptions and half-truths, and not let him justtalkwith her. Goddamn mule-headed, contrary, hard-hearted—
“Your conversation with the girl went well, did it?”
A glance at the door found Smith stood within its frame, his gaze trained upon the remains of the jug.
Turning his gaze to Rupert, Smith raised his brows. “Took it well, did she?”
“Shut up, Smith,” he snarled.
Scowling, Smith entered the room. “Don’t be blaming me for your idiocy, boy. I’ve tanned your hide more than once in your life, and you’re not too big for me to do it again.”
He shoved a hand through his hair. “What do you know of it?”
“I know enough that I saw that girl storm out of here as if God himself couldn’t keep her.”
