Page 19 of You'll Find Out
Mara sighed deeply, took an experimental sip of the scalding brew, and glanced out the windows, past the broad expanse of green lawn, past the now empty stables to the backdrop of the imperial mountains. How could she begin? How could she explain that he had a daughter? Turning back to face him, the silence beginning to gnaw at her, she found Shane still glaring at her, and this time she found the strength to meet his unwavering black gaze. Her voice, though breathless, was firm, and she controlled her hands that had begun to tremble by gripping the coffee cup tightly.
“Shane, I need to know why you didn’t come back to me. I just don’t understand why it took you four years to show up.”
A flicker of doubt and confusion flashed over his face. He seemed almost suspicious, and his voice was harsh, brittle. “I thought that I explained all of that last night.”
Mara closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. This was going to be more difficult than she had imagined. “I understand about the hospital and the identity mix-up. And I realize that your father didn’t lie to me—he thought you were dead at the time that I spoke with him.” She gulped a drink of hot coffee to steady herself and strengthen her determination. “But,” she continued, “what I don’t understand is why, when you finally got out of the hospital . . . why you didn’t . . . you wouldn’t . . .” her voice trailed off.
“I didn’t come back for you,” he finished for her. “You don’t understand that?” he snapped, fury and incredulity twisting his features. A storm of emotion passed over his face, and his eyes had turned to stone. His voice was vehement with the anger that he had repressed for the last four years. “Ididcome back for you, Mara, after spending nearly two months in a London hospital! And when I got back here, what did I find? Were you waiting for me as I had expected you to be? No! Of course not—that was much too much to ask, wasn’t it?” he challenged from across the table.
The words that were forming in Mara’s throat died as he blasted on.
“You know, I wondered why you never answered my letters. And I thought it strange that your phone had been disconnected, with no forwarding number. But I found out, didn’t I? The hard way. I found that the woman I loved and who I thought loved me was married to another man. Within three months, Mara . . . three lousy months!” His lips curled in contempt as he looked at her and the fury that he had hidden away surfaced.
A feeble protest formed in her mouth, but he continued to speak harshly, as if the dam of silence that had held his torment at bay was suddenly washed away. All Mara could do was listen, unbelieving.
“Not only that, Mara dear,” he sneered, “but you were pregnant, weren’t you? I wonder just how long you had planned to keep me on the string? My trip to Northern Ireland was very convenient for you, wasn’t it?” he blasted.
She shook her head in confusion and frustration, tears sprouted in her eyes and blurred her vision, but still he continued. His tirade wasn’t over.
“I don’t know how I could have been so blind,” he admitted, his voice heavy with self-contempt. “You must have been seeing Wilcox while I was still here—or very soon after. All the time that I was away, I thought—no, make that Iexpected—you to be faithful, but I guess that was too much to ask, wasn’t it? The minute my airplane took off, you conveniently found yourself another lover, didn’t you? Tell me—” his voice broke with the emotion that he had hoped to keep hidden within him “—just how long did you think you could keep up the charade with me? Were you seeing Wilcox while I was still in Asheville? What was it—his money that attracted you to him?” Bright fires of anger and disgust burned in his eyes.
“No!” she screamed, finding her voice. He grabbed her wrist menacingly.
“Liar!”
“No, no!” She shook her head in shame and disbelief. Was this the same man who had been so gentle, so thoughtful in bed only minutes before? “Peter was never my lover!”
Shane yanked on her wrist, and she was forced closer to him, leaning across the table. The coffee cup clattered to the floor, breaking and splashing the murky liquid against her robe. Shane’s tormented face was only inches from hers, and his hot, angry breath scorched her cheeks.
“Don’t lie to me!” he commanded.
Blue eyes snapped in indignation. Without thinking, she felt her free hand arc and she slapped him with all of the force that she could find, while she pulled her head regally high, over the taunts of his degrading insults.
“You bastard! How dare you accuse me of being unfaithful!” she shot back at him. “I never looked at another man, much less slept with one!”
“How can you expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth!” Her lips thinned, and her eyes glittered like ice. “If you would let go of me and just listen for a minute, you could stop these ridiculous insinuations.”
Shane’s eyes narrowed. He knew that he should be suspicious, but the honesty of her eyes and the haughty disdain with which she looked upon him shook his resolve. His grip on her wrist slackened. She withdrew her hand and rubbed the wrist, never letting her eyes leave his face.
“Then . . . what about Wilcox?” he accused, harshly. “Why did you marry him?”
“I thought you were dead, for God’s sake!” She slumped back into her chair and rubbed her tired eyes. “Shane, if you would just calm down and listen, I’ll try to explain.” A tremor in her voice belied her commanding words.
Shane crossed the kitchen and raked his long fingers through his black hair. Leaning against the cherrywood cupboards, he folded his arms over his chest and eyed her warily. His muscles were tight, tense, as he watched her. She wasn’t lying, he knew that much instinctively, and the sting of her contempt still burned against his cheek. “All right,” he conceded impatiently, his voice barely audible. “I’m listening.”
“It’s true,” she began, her blue eyes never leaving his. “I was pregnant when I got married.”
His lips thinned menacingly, but he remained silent, his stony gaze daring her to continue.
“But . . . it’s not what you think. You see . . . I . . . I was pregnant when you left—only I hadn’t realized it at the time. And then—” her voice trembled and she began shredding a paper napkin from the table “—and . . . then, when you didn’t call . . . or write, I became worried. I called your father, because I needed to get in touch with you, and that’s when I found out that you were dead . . .”
“You wanted to get in touch with me?” Shane was incredulous and darkly angry. “Why? Did you want my address in order to send me a wedding invitation?” he asked, his lips curling with sarcasm. “Why, damn it!” A fist crashed against the countertop.
“You’re not listening—I wanted to get in touch with you—needed to tell you about the baby . . .”
“As if I would want to know!”
