“You— you can’t mean that.”
“I assure you I do.”
She almost sagged into the chair, then straightened, struggling to recover herself. “Of course I understand your gratitude to the girl, but?—”
“It’s not gratitude that I feel for Miss Kavanaugh,” he interrupted. Mrs. Van Hallsburg’s reaction was rendering him acutely uncomfortable. He had expected scorn, perhaps a flash of her icy anger, but nothing like this. Good lord, the woman was actually close to indulging in a display of genuine emotion.
She moistened her lips. “These passing fancies sometimes happen to a man of your age, John. My brother, Stephen, for instance. Once there was this actress he insisted he loved and wanted to marry, simply because she was carrying his child. Your circus girl—she’s not pregnant, is she?”
“No,” Zeke snapped.
She seemed to find some relief in that. “Good. That will make it easier for you to reconsider. A girl like that would only drag you down, back to the coarse life you used to know. Is that what you want, John?”
“What I want is to end this conversation before I forget all those fancy manners you taught me.”
“Yes, I have taught you, far too much to see you throw it all away on some circus girl.”
“All what?” Zeke asked, frowning. “I don’t really know what the hell you are talking about, Mrs. Van H. Sure, you polished me up a bit, opened a few doors for me, but?—”
“There’s been more than that between us and you know it!” To his astonishment and discomfort, she flushed, her face turning a mottled red, her eyes almost feverish. “All my life I have been surrounded by pale imitations of men. I singled you out because I saw something different in you, something hard, strong and ambitious.”
As she stalked around the desk toward him, Zeke took an involuntary step backward, too stunned to say anything. He had never been backed into a corner by any woman before, but then he had never seen such an expression on one. He was familiar with the look of naked desire, but there was something unsettling about the passion firing Cynthia’s eyes, something unwholesome that made his flesh crawl.
Resting her fingertips against his chest, she said, “There is a power in you, John Morrison, that matches the spirit in me. I have been watching and waiting for you a long time.”
He wanted to thrust her away, but he felt frozen, almost mesmerized. She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his.
It was like kissing cold steel. Revulsion rippled through him. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pushed her from him.
A guttural cry escaped her. She stared, her eyes burning into his, and for a moment Zeke felt as though he’d caught a glimpse of hell, knew what it must be like to be damned.
She turned aside, walking to the window, her back to him. As she drew in steadying breaths, her shoulders trembled. Godabove, she couldn’t be crying, could she? Not Cynthia Van Hallsburg!
He didn’t have the damnedest notion what to do. If it had been any other female, he would have tried to offer some comfort. But the mere thought of touching her again made his gut wrench, and he scrubbed the back of his hand across his mouth.
“I am sorry, Mrs. Van Hallsburg,” he said. “If I ever led you to believe— That is I never had any notion what you were coming to feel—” Hell! Exactly what was it she did feel for him? One could hardly call it love.
She drew herself up and came slowly around. To Zeke’s intense relief, she had composed herself, her features settled into those familiar well-bred lines. One glimpse beneath that icy mask had been enough. He had no desire to ever see her lift it again.
“It is quite all right, John. You needn’t apologize. I have done acting like a fool. I only wish you would do me the courtesy of forgetting this ever happened.”
“Sure,” he agreed. But he knew he couldn’t, and from the expression in her eyes, he sensed she never would either. Drawing her cape more closely around her, she moved with dignity toward the door. Zeke was too swift in his alacrity to open it for her.
“You needn’t trouble yourself to show me out,” she said, sweeping past him. She paused in the shadows just beyond the door. “About your decision to marry that girl, I suppose I should wish you joy. All I can do is hope that you never have cause to regret it.”
Without looking back, she walked on, and soon Zeke heard his front door open and close. But her words lingered on like the disturbing scent of her perfume, like a chill in the air.
The old woman down at the fish market where Sadie had shopped was fond of wagging her head, quoting all the trite maxims. Zeke had never paid much heed, but one now stuck in his mind.
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.
But there had been no fury in Cynthia Van Hallsburg’s voice as she’d left, only a cold resignation. The entire incident had been unpleasant, but it was over. He didn’t doubt but what the next time he saw Mrs. Van H. riding in the park, she’d snub him most royally and that would be that— the end of their acquaintance.
He blew out the lamp, trying to dismiss the whole ugly scene. But he was beset by a strong urge to seek out Rory, hold her in his arms and make passionate love to her. He suddenly needed it as badly as a man near frozen to death needed fire.
Rory had been left alone in Zeke’s bed too long, given too much time to fret and think. She tried to examine her feelings regarding Mrs. Van Hallsburg. Why she so loathed and feared the woman, she didn’t even know. Maybe the fear stemmed from the fact that Cynthia Van Hallsburg served as a reminder that Zeke was part of a world that Rory couldn’t and didn’t even want to share.
Her eyes roved about the bedchamber, the expensive paintings, the costly bed hangings, the gilt trim, all the ostentatious display of wealth, and Rory felt little more at ease here than she had the first time. Being back in Zeke’s mansion only seemed to point out all the differences between them.
