‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Without any warning he lost his relaxed posture to shoot to his feet. ‘You were leaving me for him—again!’
With the backcloth of grey Nell could not see his face but she could feel the anger bouncing off him.
‘On the first opportunity you were presented with you rang him!’ he all but snarled.
‘You traced that call?’ she gasped out in disbelief.
‘You make me sick,’ Xander announced, then gave a contemptuous flick of a long-fingered hand when Nell just gaped. ‘I don’t even want to look at you.’
On that damning indictment he swung away to the window, leaving Nell standing there shaking and quivering—not with hurt but in disbelief!
‘How dare you speak like that to me?’ she shook out furiously.
‘Easily.’ Twisting back, he picked up a manila file from his desk, brandished it at her then dropped it
again. ‘The police report on your accident,’ he incised. ‘You may read it if you wish.’
But Nell did not wish. Nell was already striding across the office and pushing open the doors to his apartment.
‘You were not driving that car!’ he flung after her. ‘The angle of your seat belt burns proves it! You were sitting in the left seat, not the right—and if I drove myself more frequently in England I would have realised that as soon as I clapped eyes on your bruises and you would have been dead!’
Her face white, her lips clamped together in a flat line of disgust that was ripping her apart inside, without a pause in her stride she threw open the next set of doors, aware that Xander was tracking right behind her. Aware that in one small, satisfied way she had taken him by surprise by walking away.
‘You are so in love with the guy that you told nobody that salient fact!’ he rasped out from the bedroom doorway. ‘You have been protecting him from taking any blame even though the lily-livered coward slunk away from the scene, leaving you lying there badly injured and in need of help!’
All the time he was tossing his accusations at her Nell was throwing the doors open wide on his wardrobe and dragging open his sweater drawer. The soft cashmere garments landed in a discarded scatter. If Xander had been in a more sensible state of mind he might have been forewarned as to what was about to hit him.
As it was he strode forward, gripping the manila file as if it was some kind of weapon. Now she spun on him and it was so nice to watch his breathing still when he saw the expression of icy distaste on her face.
‘He did not slink away. I sent him away,’ she corrected. ‘As you say, I protected him from you and your lynch mob and what you might do to him.’
‘Because you love him.’ He sounded hoarse.
Nell nodded. Why deny it? ‘In the same way you have been protecting your family—because you love them?’
The sarcastic tilt in her questioning tone floated right by him. ‘You are my family,’ he ground out.
‘No—here is your family, Xander,’ Nell said quietly, and placed the framed photograph down on the bed. ‘Goodness knows why you didn’t marry Vanessa and give her and that—little boy who looks like he loves you very m-much the right to use your name.’ She sucked in a dreadful, choked breath. ‘But don’t ever dare refer to me as your family again because I’m not—they are. I think it’s time that you got your priorities right and owned up to that.’
He seemed to be having difficulty taking it all in. Nell stared up at his blank, taut face and waited for some kind of response. But all she did see was his eyes shifting from her white face to the sweaters scattered on the floor before slowly, almost unseeingly moving to the bed. As understanding did begin to dawn she watched his face slowly leech of its rich golden colour then his eyes turned black.
‘I can explain this—’
‘No.’ Nell shook her head. ‘Explain to them why you dared to marry me!’
‘But this is crazy!’ He suddenly exploded back to life again. ‘I can explain this—!’ he insisted.
‘But I don’t want to hear!’ she all but screamed at him.
His eyes flashing black with rage now, he stepped round the bed, slamming the manila file down as he came towards her. The file landed right on top of the framed photograph, Nell saw in dismay.
‘You did that on purpose,’ she shook out accusingly.
He didn’t even bother to deny it. ‘I would love to know,’ he gritted, ‘how you’ve managed to turn this into a fight about them instead of one about your bloody lover!’
‘I h-hate you for that.’ Nell wasn’t listening. ‘How could you do that to that poor little boy?’