The Christmas Knot by Barbara Monajem Page A

hands in a lazy shrug which rippled the muscles of his chest. “It was very old, so perhaps they brought it upon themselves by undermining the foundation. How should I know? It frightened off most of the intruders, but braver ones show up from time to time.”
    “Stop trying to sound logical,” she muttered, utterly unsure what to do, her fears crowding her again. She couldn’t stay; she couldn’t leave the children to this madman; John wasn’t really in any danger; all she wanted was a home, a haven, a safe place…
    “What I’m saying is logical,” Richard said. “I don’t want anyone to come to harm because of the ghost, and if anyone finds the treasure, it had best be me.”
    She clenched her fists. She squeezed her eyes shut, because as long as she couldn’t see his beloved, face, his powerful chest, she could fight her longings and figure out what she should do. But she couldn’t cut out his firm voice without childishly putting her hands over her ears.
    “Doesn’t that make sense?” he asked.
    “You can make anything sound rational and believable,” she cried. “You were a liar back then and you’re still a liar now.” She headed for the door.
    ~ * ~
    The longing which had built up in him since her arrival burst into cold fury. “I beg your pardon?”
    “You heard me,” she said. “You lied to me twelve years ago and you’re still lying. It makes me sick.” She wrenched open the door.
    “Come back here,” he said and yanked her roughly into the bedchamber. He shut the door again and hemmed her in against it. She smelled of sleep and woman, and his cock responded in spite of his rage—or maybe because of it. “I’ve had enough of your accusations, Edwina. You may have some justification for thinking the ghost story is untrue, but none—none at all—for saying I lied to you in the past.”
    She pushed at him, but he didn’t budge. “You said you loved me,” she snarled. “You said that you didn’t need my inheritance. That you could support a wife in comfort. Lies, every single one of them.” She pushed again, and when he didn’t move, she tried to duck under his arm, but he blocked her easily. “Let me go, damn you!”
    “Not until we’ve had this out.” He swallowed; this proximity was torture. He didn’t want to talk, not with her lips so close to his and her bosom heaving and her nakedness under the nightdress firing his imagination and sending the blood surging to his cock. “Every word of that was true. No, I wasn’t rich—I’m definitely better off now—but I was well able to support you without your damned money.” He forced the anger from his voice, the passion from his heart. Yes, he wanted to rip off that nightdress, throw her onto the bed, and plow into her, but it had nothing to do with love, not anymore. He just needed a woman and needed one now.
    He wasn’t going to get one. He must make himself sound light-hearted, uncaring, when he spoke of his feelings for her. “And I was madly in love with you—at the time.”
    For a long moment she was silent. Perhaps those words of love affected her, too. “And yet, you didn’t meet me at our rendezvous—because you’d been thrown into the Fleet.”
    “For a debt that wasn’t mine,” he said. “It was a mistake. A clerk’s error.”
    “Oh, what nonsense!” she cried, trying to escape again, and again he prevented her.
    “It’s not nonsense. It’s the truth. It took a few months to sort it out, but I did so.”
    “I don’t believe it. You needed the expectation of my inheritance to keep you out of prison. That’s why you were eager to elope.”
    According to his recollection, she’d been the one to suggest a runaway marriage. He opened his mouth to say so, but she put her fingers in her ears. “You can prevent me from leaving this room, but you can’t make me listen to your lies.”
    How childish could she get? The patter of footsteps reached him but not her, because she’d covered her ears.