“Well think about it now. That country is a hellhole,” she said emphatically. “A cesspool. An ugly, dirty, corrupt little republic. Politically speaking, it was a powder keg of violence ready to explode.
“Randall didn’t choose to go there, Mr. Tackett. He didn’t ask for the assignment. Your brother saw to it that we were sent,” she said disdainfully. “His way of dealing with the scandal wasn’t to confront it but to sweep it under the rug.”
“How’d he manage that? Thanks to you, no one wanted to know him. His friends turned out to be the fair weather variety.”
“But several people over at State owed Clark favors. He called them in, and—presto!—Randall was assigned to the most potentially dangerous area in the world at that time.
“Do you know the Bible story of David and Bathsheba?” Giving him no time to answer, she explained. “King David sent Bathsheba’s husband to the front lines of battle, virtually guaranteeing that he would be killed. And he was.”
“But that’s where your parallel ends,” he said, sliding off the edge of the desk and moving to stand directly in front of her again. “King David kept Bathsheba with him. Doesn’t speak very well of you, does it?” he asked with a sneer. “Clark didn’t value you enough to keep you around. You must have been a lousy mistress.”
Spots of fiery indignation appeared on her cheeks. “Following the scandal, Clark and I had no future together.”
“He had no future, period. You cost him his career in politics. He didn’t even embarrass his political party by running again. He knew that Americans had had their fill of statesmen getting caught in compromising positions with bimbos.”
“I am not a bimbo.”
“Exception noted. You can probably type,” he said caustically. “The point is that until you came along, my brother was Washington’s golden boy. After that morning in Virginia, he became a pariah on Capitol Hill.”
“Don’t cry ‘Poor Clark’ to me! Your brother knew the potential consequences of his actions.”
“And was willing to take the risks, is that it?”
“Precisely.”
“Just what is it you do in bed that’s so damn great it can separate a man from his better judgment?”
“I won’t even honor that with a response,” she shot back angrily. “Do you think Clark was the only one to suffer consequences?” She splayed her hand over her chest. “I suffered losses too. My career, for instance, which was as important to me as Clark’s was to him.”
“You left the country.”
“What did it matter? Even if I hadn’t gone to Montesangre with Randall, I never would have had an opportunity to practice medicine in and around Washington. I’d still be struggling to practice anywhere if Clark’s guilt hadn’t compelled him to buy me this place.”
“What?” His head snapped back.
Lara sucked in a sharp little breath. Her lips parted in amazement. She could tell that his stunned expression was authentic. “You didn’t know?”
His eyebrows came together in a steep frown above the bridge of his nose.
“I can’t believe it,” she murmured. Carefully gauging his reaction, she said, “Clark bought this place from Dr. Patton when he retired, then deeded it over to me.”
He stared at her for several ponderous moments, his gaze so intense it was difficult for her to meet it, but she did so unflinchingly. Confusion and suspicion warred within his eyes. “You’re lying.”
“You don’t have to take my word for it. It’s a matter of public record.”
“I was there when Clark’s will was read. There was no mention of you. I would have remembered.”
“He arranged it that way. Ask your sister. Ask your mother. She’s repeatedly threatened to contest the legality of my ownership, but Clark saw to it that it’s ironclad.” She drew herself up straight and tall. Key’s ignorance of this one fact had given her a distinct edge.
“I didn’t learn about it myself until after his death. His attorney notified me. I was dumbfounded and thought there had to be some mistake because Clark and I had had no contact whatsoever since the scandal.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t give a damn whether you believe it or not,” she snapped.
“So, out of the blue, my brother buys a piece of property worth… what? A couple hundred grand? And gives it to you.” He made a scoffing sound. “Bullshit. You must have put him up to it.”
“I tell you, I hadn’t seen or spoken to him in years,” she insisted. “I didn’t want to. Why would I want to see the man who had let me take the fall for a public scandal, who’d exiled me to that godforsaken place, who’d been indirectly responsible for the death of my—” She broke off.