Remember that the next time you think about bucking me. Maybe it’s someone you know, maybe not. Maybe he walks right into your house, and he’s welcomed here, or maybe he hides in the shadows. He could be out there at night, watching this place, watching you—”
“Stop it!” she cried. His taunting words painted a scene straight out of her nightmares. The stress she’d been under for the past few weeks seemed to gel, and for a second it was all directed at this man. Her fingers clenched into fists and she pushed hard against his chest, punctuating her words. “Just—stop it!”
Chapter 3
Raine became aware of her actions at the same moment Mac gathered both her fists into one large hand. She stared at him in shock, her body frozen by her loss of control. Their gazes melded.
Her eyes were pure amber now, and he was struck with the realization that the look he’d thought he’d recognized in them upon their first meeting hadn’t been a fluke. For an instant they were full of anguish. Why the hell did she try to pretend to be unaffected by all of this? Because she was far from unaffected, that was clear. She was close enough that he could feel her heart racing, her body quivering.
She tugged at her hands, but when he didn’t release them, she looked away to escape that speculative regard. She was afraid of what he’d see. He was so observant she felt like a butterfly impaled on a pin beneath that searching stare. Certainly she had all too good an idea what he might find if he looked hard enough, if he was perceptive enough.
He released her wrists, and she immediately turned away from him. It really wasn’t a question of whether or not the man was perceptive. She had a sinking feeling that very little got by Macauley O’Neill. She moved toward the fireplace and pretended an intense interest in its decorative oak mantel.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. He said nothing, and she still wasn’t controlled enough to face him again. She forced a shaky laugh. “I can assure you that I only attack someone once a week, so you’re safe for the next several days.”
He remained silent, and she angled her head around to peek at him. He was expressionless, watching her silently, and her throat went dry. She’d never met anyone so difficult to read, and she suddenly wondered why it seemed so important to know what he was thinking.
When he did speak, he didn’t mention her loss of control or her apology. “If you’d think about this rationally, you’d admit that it makes sense to limit the number of people who have access to you.” He was silent for a moment, thinking swiftly. Then he said grudgingly, “Maybe we won’t have to bar guests completely. If André and Greg are still allowed in here, will you agree to tell the art students to stay away?”
It shocked her a little to hear him suggest something that sounded very close to a compromise. She had the feeling the concept was foreign to him. Considering his offer for a moment, she said, “I’d want to be able to see Sarah, also.”
His tone was unmistakably sarcastic. “You have meetings with her, too?”
“No,” she informed him evenly, “but she’s a very dear friend of mine. And she’s been having a rough time lately dealing with her younger brother. It’s affected her work, and she needs me for support.”
“Fine,” he snarled, at the end of his patience. “André, Greg and Sarah will be allowed in. No one else, except my men and your family.”
It was clear he was already regretting the concession he’d made. She wondered at a sudden compulsion she had to soothe him. “William and John don’t get away from the city more than once a month, and I just saw them last week. And I usually visit with my parents at their home. My mother suffers from a chronic heart ailment, and she hasn’t been well lately. As for the students . . .” She hesitated, uncertain what she would tell them to keep them away. She was loath to
“Stop it!” she cried. His taunting words painted a scene straight out of her nightmares. The stress she’d been under for the past few weeks seemed to gel, and for a second it was all directed at this man. Her fingers clenched into fists and she pushed hard against his chest, punctuating her words. “Just—stop it!”
Chapter 3
Raine became aware of her actions at the same moment Mac gathered both her fists into one large hand. She stared at him in shock, her body frozen by her loss of control. Their gazes melded.
Her eyes were pure amber now, and he was struck with the realization that the look he’d thought he’d recognized in them upon their first meeting hadn’t been a fluke. For an instant they were full of anguish. Why the hell did she try to pretend to be unaffected by all of this? Because she was far from unaffected, that was clear. She was close enough that he could feel her heart racing, her body quivering.
She tugged at her hands, but when he didn’t release them, she looked away to escape that speculative regard. She was afraid of what he’d see. He was so observant she felt like a butterfly impaled on a pin beneath that searching stare. Certainly she had all too good an idea what he might find if he looked hard enough, if he was perceptive enough.
He released her wrists, and she immediately turned away from him. It really wasn’t a question of whether or not the man was perceptive. She had a sinking feeling that very little got by Macauley O’Neill. She moved toward the fireplace and pretended an intense interest in its decorative oak mantel.
“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice. He said nothing, and she still wasn’t controlled enough to face him again. She forced a shaky laugh. “I can assure you that I only attack someone once a week, so you’re safe for the next several days.”
He remained silent, and she angled her head around to peek at him. He was expressionless, watching her silently, and her throat went dry. She’d never met anyone so difficult to read, and she suddenly wondered why it seemed so important to know what he was thinking.
When he did speak, he didn’t mention her loss of control or her apology. “If you’d think about this rationally, you’d admit that it makes sense to limit the number of people who have access to you.” He was silent for a moment, thinking swiftly. Then he said grudgingly, “Maybe we won’t have to bar guests completely. If André and Greg are still allowed in here, will you agree to tell the art students to stay away?”
It shocked her a little to hear him suggest something that sounded very close to a compromise. She had the feeling the concept was foreign to him. Considering his offer for a moment, she said, “I’d want to be able to see Sarah, also.”
His tone was unmistakably sarcastic. “You have meetings with her, too?”
“No,” she informed him evenly, “but she’s a very dear friend of mine. And she’s been having a rough time lately dealing with her younger brother. It’s affected her work, and she needs me for support.”
“Fine,” he snarled, at the end of his patience. “André, Greg and Sarah will be allowed in. No one else, except my men and your family.”
It was clear he was already regretting the concession he’d made. She wondered at a sudden compulsion she had to soothe him. “William and John don’t get away from the city more than once a month, and I just saw them last week. And I usually visit with my parents at their home. My mother suffers from a chronic heart ailment, and she hasn’t been well lately. As for the students . . .” She hesitated, uncertain what she would tell them to keep them away. She was loath to