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‘It must have been hard fitting in with school in Norway. Not knowing the language.’

‘Oh, I didn’t go to school. Neve had tutors brought in for me, and I learned the language pretty quickly. Kids always do.’

Libby frowned. Neve had been rich, and maybe she thought Kai would have a better education with a tutor, yet it sounded… Isolating. Had that been on purpose? Some kind of control technique?

‘That sounds…lonely,’ she said after a moment.

He lifted a shoulder. ‘I didn’t feel lonely.’

Didn’t he? Surely, alone in a house with no kids his own age around, he must have felt some loneliness. She wanted to ask why not, but again that could potentially lead into dangerous territory.

‘You didn’t miss Worthington at all?’ she asked.

‘Miss it?’ His brow creased. ‘Not really. You can’t miss what you don’t remember.’

That was true. He didn’t remember, that was the issue. But she did. She remembered all too well and wished she didn’t. She wished she didn’t feel the way she did now, either, as if those twenty years were still yesterday, and the pain of him walking out the door was still fresh.

Especially now she knew what he’d walked into.

The pain in her heart deepened, along with a hot anger.

She’d been only a little girl, but he’d been the first person to accept her. The first person to be patient with her, to include her. He’d been her friend.

Yes, his walking away had hurt her, but as it turned out, he hadn’t gone off to live in riches with a new mother who loved him. He’d gone off to live in riches with a woman who’d groomed him, took advantage of him, then broken him. And the thought of that filled Libby with a helpless, protective rage.

Yet it wasn’t an anger she could express to him, because her emotions weren’t his responsibility. They were hers to deal with, and she would.

Libby put her scissors down. ‘I think I might go for a walk. Been cooped up inside too long.’

* * *

Kai looked across the table at her in surprise. Strangely, he’d been enjoying himself, which he absolutely hadn’t expected, not after she’d asked about his first time upstairs, and he’d overreacted like a fool.

She’d caught him off guard and he’d answered, letting his own irrational emotional response colour the words, and of course she’d picked up on it. Then she’d pushed, and it had felt like steel wool against a raw wound. He shouldn’t have said anything more, but he’d snapped at her, and of course that had betrayed more than he’d thought.

He hadn’t been able to bear seeing the understanding dawn on her face, so he’d turned to the windows to look out at the falling snow instead. She’d apologised for asking the question then, and it had sounded so heartfelt that he knew she’d put two and two together. That she’d guessed Neve had done something to him.

So of course, he’d had to tell her about the real nature of his relationship with Neve all those years ago. A youthful indiscretion. A boyhood crush.

Did she abuse me?

The words he’d thrown at Libby echoed in his head. Because that’s what she’d been thinking, wasn’t it? But she was wrong. The affair he’d had with Neve had been just that, an affair. He’d thought it had been something more, but he’d been mistaken. Anyway, it had been such a long time ago that it wasn’t even worth talking about.

Then she’d mentioned making Christmas decorations, and he’d accepted, throwing himself into cutting out paper snowflakes in an effort to forget what he’d said about Neve.

He’d liked that, though. There was something soothing in cutting paper and talking to Libby, though it was interesting how she’d changed the subject very definitively when he’d pointed out that she was dismissive of compliments. She’d coloured and looked away and told him it was nothing, when it was quite clear to him that she was lying. He was curious as to why she felt the need to. Did compliments upset her? Did they bother her? He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure why he cared, either, but he did, so he’d let her have the subject change. Even though he hadn’t wanted to talk about Neve. He’d stuck to the facts and she’d seemed to accept them, but he wasn’t sure what he’d said to make her suddenly put down her scissors and to say she needed a walk. All he’d said was that he didn’t miss the home, but that was because he didn’t remember it. What was so upsetting about that?

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, putting down his own scissors.

‘Nothing.’ She pushed her chair back. ‘I just need some fresh air.’

‘Liberty,’ he said flatly, fixing her with a look. ‘Tell me.’

Her amber gaze flickered at the note of command in his voice, but he didn’t bother to apologise. He wanted to know what the issue was, and she was going to tell him whether she liked it or not. How else could he fix it?

Her jaw jutted, angry sparks glittering in her eyes. ‘Please don’t take that tone with me.’

‘I will take whichever tone I please. Something I said upset you, and I want to know what it was.’