quite a bit."
Erin inclined her head slightly. She hoped that her silence would discourage him from pursuing recollections of their earlier acquaintance. It did not.
"How did Bates end up running the line? Your father was in charge when the war began."
"Papa . . . died in a carriage accident shortly after Bull Run. My mother was with him. She was . . . killed also."
The shock that registered on his tanned features was followed instantly by a softening of his expression. He straightened in the chair, studying her intently. "I'm sorry, Erin. I know you loved them both."
Inexplicably, those simple words were enough to make her throat tighten with unshed tears. The rigorous self-discipline she had imposed on herself ever since her parents' death abruptly threatened to crack. She looked away hastily. "Thank you. But that was a long time ago. I would prefer to speak of more immediate concerns."
Storm was not fooled by her apparent coolness. Though he was tempted in view of her obvious unease to let the topic drop, he found that he could not. The urge to know more about her life during the years they were apart was irresistible.
His gaze settled on her slender, ringless hands folded neatly in her lap. On impulse, he asked, "How is it you have not married?"
He hardly expected her to admit what he now believed to be the truth, namely that she had cared for him too much to be attracted to another man. But neither was he quite prepared for her emotionless explanation. "I've been very busy."
Storm laughed. "At what? The war put a halt to the social round. How did you manage to keep so thoroughly occupied that you had no time for your admirers? And don't try to tell me there weren't any," he insisted when 'she tried to interrupt. "I'll wager more than a few of Boston's upstanding young men tried to convince you to marry them before they went off to battle the traitorous rebs."
Erin's eyes darkened to the consistency of a storm-tossed sea. His mocking tone pierced her fragile defenses, making her acutely aware of her vulnerability. Holding her head up proudly, she said, "You forget, I was in mourning."
He flushed slightly at what should have been an unnecessary reminder, but did not relent. "Even so, there must have been some who tried to convince you to overlook the usual proprieties because of the war."
Unwelcome recollections flowed through her. He was right about that. A few of the young men who had flocked around her were genuinely concerned about her being left alone at such a time, with her family led by a drunkard uncle. Most of them simply desired her and hoped to take advantage of a particularly susceptible time in her life.
She had dealt gently with the first group and sent the second packing without a second thought. Her refusal to take shelter from her grief in the arms of a husband was the first true sign of her maturity.
But it was also at least in part a recognition of the fact that Storm still stood between her and any other man. Beside him, everyone else faded into insignificance.
In an attempt to cut short what was rapidly becoming a very difficult conversation, she said, "Does it matter whether or not I received proposals? We have already determined that I never married."
"I suppose not. But I can't help but be curious. You are the last woman I would ever have thought of as a candidate for spinster-hood."
The word stung, as it was no doubt intended to. Erin bit her lip, determined not to let him provoke her into a confrontation that she had little chance of winning.
Instead, she said, "And you are the last man I would have suspected of trying to evade an issue. Or is there some reason you don't want me to discover what has happened to my ships while in your care?"
The pewter sheen of his gaze warned her she was treading perilously close to the edge. He was not a man to tolerate any questioning of his honor. With difficulty he controlled what she did not doubt would have been a scathing retort.
"Your
Erin inclined her head slightly. She hoped that her silence would discourage him from pursuing recollections of their earlier acquaintance. It did not.
"How did Bates end up running the line? Your father was in charge when the war began."
"Papa . . . died in a carriage accident shortly after Bull Run. My mother was with him. She was . . . killed also."
The shock that registered on his tanned features was followed instantly by a softening of his expression. He straightened in the chair, studying her intently. "I'm sorry, Erin. I know you loved them both."
Inexplicably, those simple words were enough to make her throat tighten with unshed tears. The rigorous self-discipline she had imposed on herself ever since her parents' death abruptly threatened to crack. She looked away hastily. "Thank you. But that was a long time ago. I would prefer to speak of more immediate concerns."
Storm was not fooled by her apparent coolness. Though he was tempted in view of her obvious unease to let the topic drop, he found that he could not. The urge to know more about her life during the years they were apart was irresistible.
His gaze settled on her slender, ringless hands folded neatly in her lap. On impulse, he asked, "How is it you have not married?"
He hardly expected her to admit what he now believed to be the truth, namely that she had cared for him too much to be attracted to another man. But neither was he quite prepared for her emotionless explanation. "I've been very busy."
Storm laughed. "At what? The war put a halt to the social round. How did you manage to keep so thoroughly occupied that you had no time for your admirers? And don't try to tell me there weren't any," he insisted when 'she tried to interrupt. "I'll wager more than a few of Boston's upstanding young men tried to convince you to marry them before they went off to battle the traitorous rebs."
Erin's eyes darkened to the consistency of a storm-tossed sea. His mocking tone pierced her fragile defenses, making her acutely aware of her vulnerability. Holding her head up proudly, she said, "You forget, I was in mourning."
He flushed slightly at what should have been an unnecessary reminder, but did not relent. "Even so, there must have been some who tried to convince you to overlook the usual proprieties because of the war."
Unwelcome recollections flowed through her. He was right about that. A few of the young men who had flocked around her were genuinely concerned about her being left alone at such a time, with her family led by a drunkard uncle. Most of them simply desired her and hoped to take advantage of a particularly susceptible time in her life.
She had dealt gently with the first group and sent the second packing without a second thought. Her refusal to take shelter from her grief in the arms of a husband was the first true sign of her maturity.
But it was also at least in part a recognition of the fact that Storm still stood between her and any other man. Beside him, everyone else faded into insignificance.
In an attempt to cut short what was rapidly becoming a very difficult conversation, she said, "Does it matter whether or not I received proposals? We have already determined that I never married."
"I suppose not. But I can't help but be curious. You are the last woman I would ever have thought of as a candidate for spinster-hood."
The word stung, as it was no doubt intended to. Erin bit her lip, determined not to let him provoke her into a confrontation that she had little chance of winning.
Instead, she said, "And you are the last man I would have suspected of trying to evade an issue. Or is there some reason you don't want me to discover what has happened to my ships while in your care?"
The pewter sheen of his gaze warned her she was treading perilously close to the edge. He was not a man to tolerate any questioning of his honor. With difficulty he controlled what she did not doubt would have been a scathing retort.
"Your
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