He raised his glass to hers. “Here’s to a thawing of relations between us. A detente. After all, we will be married soon.”
“It will certainly be easier if we don’t have to avoid each other.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing? Avoiding me?”
She nodded and took a sip of the soda water. “Of course. I don’t know you, and I feel uncomfortable in your presence.”
“But you believe you know me a little better now? Know that I’m not the monster that my father made me out to be?”
“Yes. I don’t believe you're a monster at all.”
“Not a monster. That’s a start. But then that begs the question: what do you believe I am?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Someone who is hurting.”
She could have cut the silence with a knife, but she didn’t regret her words. She watched his reaction carefully. His jaw tightened, and a muscle flickered in it, but it was his eyes which spoke most. They went cold. The little reaction she’d seen immediately disappeared.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
He shrugged. “You merely expressed your opinion. The fact that that opinion is based on so very little knowledge of me would hardly alarm me, would it? You don’t know me at all.”
“But I feel Idoknow you somehow.”
“And how do you make that out?” His tone was definitely chilly.
She swallowed down her nerves, which had started to flutter deep in her belly. The more gruffly he responded, the more she realized she was closer to the mark.
“The little things your father said. The way you act sometimes. I’ve seen animals and people who have been hurt, and I’ve seen how they behave.”
“Ah, so part of the reason you disappear into the background is to observe people.” He took a step closer to her. The offensive, she realized. “Trouble is, Indra, youdon’tdisappear into the background. You are far too beautiful.” He reached out, and she held her breath, wondering what on earth he was going to do. He extended his finger to her chin, lifting it upwards with the merest of touches. He shook his head as his eyes roamed over her face. His eyes pinched at the corner. “How could you ever hope to fade into the background?”
“I have to.”
He frowned and dropped his hand. “You have to? That’s an odd thing to say. Why do you believe you have to disappear?”
She blinked lightly, praying silently that it would be enough to hold back the tears. “Because of what happened to my family.”
She could tell by his expression that he had no idea what she was talking about.
“I know nothing about your family. Only what my brothers have told me about your mother. She was kind, I believe, to my father.”
“She loved him. In a different way to how she loved my father. But she loved both—of that I am sure.”
She inhaled sharply, and it was as if the air was being sucked out of the room, leaving only tension. She forced herself to take a seat in one of the armchairs grouped around a table, on which a single vase of flowers stood.
She didn’t want to sit beside him—of that she was certain—and she certainly didn’t want to sit opposite him so he could interrogate her with those eyes. She wasn’t sure she could withstand it. That moment in the barn when she’d glimpsed the boy who was still such a big part of Sebastian, a part of her own defenses had fallen away. And, for the life of her, she couldn’t seem to raise them again. She felt vulnerable for the first time in years.
He leaned against the mantelpiece, choosing to stand opposite her. It seemed she wasn’t going to escape that gaze.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said in that low, sexy voice of his.
“There’s little to tell,” she said, taking refuge in a sip of soda water. She certainly hadn’t asked him for a drink for her to divulge her family history.
He hesitated, obviously not accepting her answer. But then shot her a quick smile. “Sure. How about keeping it simple? Tell me, do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“I had a brother. An older brother. He’s no longer living.”
“I’m sorry. That must be painful.”