“Of course. Like a brother you do.”
“No, not like a brother!” He yanked her into his arms. “I go just about crazy with jealousy thinking of you being with any other feller, not just this Morrison. And to let him kiss you! Why couldn’t it have been me, Rory? Why not me?”
“Tony, stop!”
But he pressed his lips hard against her mouth. It was useless to resist. He was far too strong for her. All she could do was hold herself rigid and unresponsive. It was all wrong, and Tony was quick to sense that himself. He drew back, his eyes filled with longing and despair. She struggled to find the words to let him down as gently as she could.
But she didn’t have to speak. After staring into her face, he released her, his shoulders slumping.
“Tony, I am so sorry,” she whispered.
He swallowed hard and nodded, a heavy silence descending. Rory could feel something precious dying, another piece of her childhood slipping away. She retreated behind the desk again.
Tony gave a harsh laugh. “There’s no need for that. I won’t try to touch you again. I’m through making a fool of myself. You have nothing to fear from me.”
“I know that, Tony.”
Somehow her assurance only made things worse. He picked up his jacket that he had forgotten before and moved toward the door. “I guess I better be getting home. Ma’ll be ready to skin me for being late for supper again.”
Simple words, the sort of easy remark he might have tossed off as he left any evening, only now it all sounded so strained.
Her voice came across as too hearty when she agreed. “Goodness yes, I don’t want your mother mad at me again for keeping you. You run along. I’ll lock up here.”
“Don’t you stay late either. It’s getting dark.”
Rory promised she wouldn’t. She thought he meant to go without another word, not even good-bye. But he looked back one last time to ask with a wistfulness that nearly broke her heart, “Is it because of that Morrison fellow? Is that why I don’t have a chance with you? Did you fall in love with him?”
“Heavens, Tony, I only just met the man yesterday.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes. There’s something different about you. I can tell.”
“I’m a day older.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t manage it. Only a day. Why did it suddenly feel like years?
Tony drew himself more erect, some of the fire returning to his eyes. “Well, I’m not going to stand by and let you get mixed up with some stranger. I’m going to find out more about this J. E. Morrison.”
“Tony!”
“And if he does turn out to be a bad one, you are going to stay away from him, you hear?”
“Tony, please. Just go home.”
But she could tell from the stubborn look on his face, her plea would go unheeded. When he let himself out, she sagged down onto the chair. Folding her arms upon the desk, she buried her face against her hands, her heart feeling too battered even for tears.
“Damn you, Tony,” she mumbled. “You’ve ruined everything.” She wanted to curse him and Zeke Morrison too. The pair of them had robbed her of her tranquility—Tony, with all his talk of love, spoiling their friendship; Zeke with his kisses, stirring desires inside of her she had never dreamed of.
Strange that for all her grief for her father, her worries over the fate of her company, she had still managed to stay relatively carefree. She had known exactly who she was, Seamus Kavanaugh’s daughter, Tony’s friend, the hoyden of McCreedy Street.
Now she felt so unsure of herself. Everything was so blasted complicated—most of all her confusing feelings about Zeke Morrison. Why hadn’t she told Tony she never expected to see the man again? Why had she been so ready to fly to Zeke’s defense when Tony had begun hinting things about him?
If she had given Tony the reassurance he sought, he would have let the matter drop. Now she knew he would never do so. He would keep prying until he got himself into trouble or else found something damning to tell her about Zeke.
And she had a feeling that might not be so hard to do. Zeke carried an aura about him, of ruthlessness certainly, but also whispers of a past that she sensed had not been pleasant.
Yet whatever Tony might uncover, it wasn’t going to matter. Rory’s instincts had never failed her, and she had looked into Zeke’s eyes enough to know that he was not a bad man.
An odd judgment to pass on someone who had, after all, tried to seduce her, lure her into the very sort of wickedness that Tony warned her against. Zeke himself would admit that his intentions had not been honorable.
But there had been a tenderness in his voice that spoke of more than mere lust. Zeke Morrison had needs Rory doubted the man was even aware of himself. The trouble was he made her too much aware she had needs of her own.
