Page 71 of The Bride Wore White

“Do you think he murdered his own mother last night?” Prudence looked truly shocked.

He sighed. “I hate to disillusion you, but it wouldn’t be the first time a child has murdered a parent.”

“That’s a very unsettling thought.”

“It’s also a logical possibility. It will be interesting to get the name of Clara Dover’s last visitor.”

“You don’t think her death was a result of her head injury?”

“I think her death is very convenient for Rollins Dover. But first I need a shower and breakfast, and then I have to re-create my Dover crime tree.”

He had a plan. It was good to have one. Energized, he strode toward the hallway where Prudence stood. She stepped aside to let him go past, never taking her eyes off him. A chill went through him. Perhaps, in the intimacy of the bedroom, the scars had provento be too much. Maybe she could no longer look past them. Or maybe she had not been attracted to what she had seen when she had looked beyond the ruins of his face.

He stopped. He had to know if she wished last night had never happened.

“Just say it.” The words were acid on his tongue.

“I slept with you,” she whispered. “I had sex with you and then I went to sleep.”

“I remember. Is that a problem for you?”

“I didn’t have a panic attack. Neither did you. We had sex and then we just... went to sleep.”

“Is that what this is about?” An overwhelming wave of relief swept over him. It was followed by a surge of outrage. She had put him through some very bad moments for absolutely no good reason. “You’re wondering why you didn’t have an attack of nerves last night?”

“Well, yes.”

He took a step closer to her. Whatever she saw in his eyes evidently alarmed her, because she took a quick step back. But there was no room to run in the confines of the hallway. She came up against the wall.

He planted one hand on the unyielding surface behind her and leaned in a little. “You based your stupid fear of panic attacks on your experience with one man.”

“It wasn’t a stupid fear. It was based on experience.”

“You married the wrong man. You knew it, but you told yourself a fairy tale. You were sure you could make it work, but deep down you realized it was a mistake. Your marriage was doomed from the start. You blamed the wedding night panic attack on your psychic sensitivity. You managed to convince yourself that the reason you couldn’t consummate the marriage was because your talent caused you to have delicate nerves. Lady, I’ve spent the past fewdays with you, and I can tell you that you don’t even know the meaning ofdelicate nerves.”

“You don’t understand. Julian also had a panic attack. I caused it.”

“Sounds like Julian is the one with delicate nerves.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve lecturing me about delicate nerves. You’re the man who convinced himself that his fiancée could not bring herself to marry him because of the scars on his face.”

“That’s the truth, damn it.”

“I don’t think so. I think you had a lot to do with the end of your engagement.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You said your ability to predict what others will do in certain circumstances has cost you all sorts of relationships. You can’t let yourself trust other people because there’s a chance they might betray you. Has it occurred to you that an attitude like that can become a self-fulfilling prophecy?”

That stopped him cold. “That’s not true.”

“Wanna bet? How do you think it makes people feel when they realize you’re just standing around watching them, waiting for them to disappoint you?”

“That’s not how it is.”

She gave him a steely smile. “Maybe yes, maybe no. But the good news for us is that you think you already know the truth about me. I’m a fraud, remember? So you don’t have to wait for me to disappoint you. Neither of us is under any illusions about the other. By your own flawless logic, that would seem to indicate we are a perfect couple. At least for now.”

“What the hell?”

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