He knew she had backed out of what she had been going to say. It was there, written in the way she lowered her eyes from his—which in turn had his own narrowing threateningly. ‘I don’t know,’ he incised. ‘You tell me.’
His was an outright challenge for her to get off her chest whatever was fizzing inside it. He knew she knew about Leona. He knew she’d overheard his discussion with Victor just now.
But Eve was discovering that she just did not want to discuss his very married lover with him. She wanted to discuss them. ‘Aidan Galloway,’ she prompted, watching his face toughen up like a rock. ‘I came here, because something you said on the path just now made me realise we seem to have been talking at cross purposes about what actually happened last night.’
Some of the challenge leaked out of him. ‘He attempted to rape you.’ Ethan named it.
‘No.’ Eve frowned. ‘It wasn’t—’
Ethan spun his back to her and walked over to the wardrobe to begin removing clothes from their hangers. ‘Still protecting him, I see,’ he drawled.
The comment stung. ‘No,’ she denied the charge. ‘I don’t need to protect Aidan. Not in this context anyway,’ she felt pressed to add. ‘And will you stop doing that and listen to me!’ she snapped out, when he continued to pack his suitcase as if she wasn’t even there.
Ignoring her demand, he made to walk back to the wardrobe. On a fit of irritation she went to stand directly in his path. She felt like a mouse challenging a giant and, the worst of it was, it excited her. Her insides came alive as if sparkling diamonds were showering her with the urge to reach out and touch.
‘I am trying to tell you that Aidan Galloway was not the one who spiked my drink last night!’ she told him furiously. ‘You’ve been blaming the wrong man!’
Looking down into those rich green earnest eyes, Ethan had to wonder how such beautiful eyes could lie as well as they did? For some unaccountable reason the way she was still insisting on defending the bastard made him want to kiss that lying little mouth senseless.
Instead he released a very soft, very deriding laugh, took hold of her stubborn chin between finger and thumb and gave it a condescending shake. ‘But you would say that, being so in love with him,’ he taunted softly, then he sidestepped her and continued with what he was doing.
I knew I hated him, now I remember why, Eve thought, and took in a deep breath of air to give her the will to continue when really she wanted to beat out an angry tattoo on his back!
‘We were at Aidan’s beach house. It was my birthday party and we were all enjoying ourselves…’ Except for me, because I was brooding over you! she added silently. ‘Aidan was the one who was mixing the drinks. But it was not Aidan who slipped something potent into my drink. It was not Aidan who brought me home and—did what he did!’
‘Who then?’ he shot at her.
Ah, Eve thought, and snapped her lips shut. Having seen his burning desire to rip Aidan from limb to limb, she decided it might be wise to keep the name of the real culprit to herself for now. ‘Who it was doesn’t matter any more.’ She therefore evaded the question. ‘I just needed to tell you that it wasn’t Aidan.’
‘You’re lying,’ he pronounced with a withering glance at her.
‘I’m not!’ she denied. ‘Aidan is one of the nicest people I know!’ she insisted in defence of that look. ‘And he’s going through his own bit of hell right now—so he doesn’t need you accusing him of something he would not think of doing in a million years!’
‘Are we talking about the same man who could lose himself in the embrace of another woman while his fiancée, his cousin and myself, looked on from the sidelines?’ he mocked. Then on a sudden burst of impatience, he tossed the clothes he had been holding onto the bed and took a hard grip her shoulders. ‘Stop protecting him, Eve,’ he shook her gently. ‘The man just isn’t worthy of it!’
‘I am telling you the truth,’ she insisted. ‘If you will just shut up and listen, I will explain about the kiss—’
‘You’re in love with him,’ he repeated the outright accusation. ‘That doesn’t need explaining.’
‘You’re in love with another man’s wife,’ Eve retaliated in kind. ‘What does that say about your right to moralise over me?’
His eyes began to darken ominously. Eve’s senses began to play havoc with her ability to breathe or think. His mouth was hard and tight and angry, hers was soft and quivery and hurt. He was too close—she liked it. Her hands even went up to press against his shirt front. She felt his heat, the pound of his heart, the elixir of sheer masculine strength.
She wanted him to kiss her so very badly that it hurt.
Damn it all, but he wanted to kiss some sense into her, so badly it actually hurt, Ethan was thinking helplessly. ‘He bruised your mouth, here,’ he murmured, making do with running a finger over the soft smooth padding where the slight discolouration was still evident.
‘She let her husband bruise yours,’ Eve responded with a mimicking touch of a finger to the corner of his mouth.
He wasn’t listening. ‘And here,’ he continued, moving that same gentle finger to the mark at her throat. ‘I want to kill him for doing this to you.’
‘It wasn’t Aidan.’ Somehow, some way she managed to hang onto a thread of sanity long enough to say that, even though she was becoming more engrossed in the pleasure of touching him.
‘It wasn’t Leona’s husband who put the bruise on my face.’
‘I still want to kill her just for breathing,’ she confessed with enough green-eyed jealousy to make him laugh.
It was a strained, low, husky sound though,
