Rising abruptly, he paced to the window and stared again at the forest. “It didn’t take you very long to find someone else, did it, Lily?” he asked without looking at her.
The words struck her like a breath-stealing punch, and for several seconds she could do nothing but concentrate on getting oxygen into her lungs. “I can’t talk about that.”
“You can’t talk about it, or you won’t?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Of course not,” he said nastily. “I was only your lover.”
She felt the words like a bullet, piercing flesh and bone and slamming into her heart to shatter it like a piece of crystal. “Stop it, Robert. What happened between us…was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. A lot has happened since then.”
“Like what?”
When she didn’t answer, he turned to her, struck her with a look cold enough to freeze hell. “Who’s Jack’s father, Lily?”
Her heart pinged hard against her ribs, then began to race.
“Did you know him when you were seeing me? Were you seeing him behind my back? Is that why you refused to leave?”
She stared at him, speechless and hurting and on the verge of panic. “That’s a petty and hateful thing to say.”
“I want to know. I deserve an answer.”
“Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what? Ask for the truth?” He crossed the room but stopped two feet away from her, as if he didn’t trust himself not to strike out at her if he got too close. “Is it Jacques?”
“Jacques?” If she hadn’t been so shaken she might have laughed. But she didn’t because the moment was breaking her heart. Instead, she said nothing more, and watched as the realization entered his expression. And it killed her inside to let him believe a lie.
Face dark with anger, he turned and stalked to the window. Lily looked at the lockbox, at all the information she’d accumulated on a man she’d dedicated her life to destroying, and for the first time since this nightmare had begun wondered if that goal was worth the sacrifices.
She risked a look at Robert. She couldn’t ever remember seeing him look so desolate. Not Robert Davidson the doctor. The gentle man who healed the wounded. But something had changed inside him since the last time she’d seen him. A bitterness that had made him hard. He looked isolated and alone and dangerous as hell standing there, staring sightlessly out the window. What had happened to the gentle man she’d once known? The man who’d held her and laughed with her and made love to her as if she were the only woman in the world?
I destroyed him, she thought, and turned to flee to her room before he could see the tears.
Chapter 5
Robert found the bottle of cognac in the kitchen. He didn’t know where she kept the snifters, so he poured two fingers into a teacup and slammed it back in two bitter gulps. He’d never been much of a drinker, had certainly never acquired a taste for cognac, but his temper was pumping pure adrenaline, and if he didn’t get himself calmed down or find some kind of an outlet he was going to break something.
Hoping the alcohol would dull the sharp edge of fury pumping through him, he poured a second time then put the bottle away and carried the cup into the living area.
He knew better than to let any of this get to him. Damn it, he wasn’t a jealous man. Had never been possessive or obsessive or particularly neurotic when it came to women. He’d always considered himself above that kind of imbecilic behavior. He was an enlightened man and worked through his problems with reason and civility and intellect. But the more primal side of him knew that if Jacques came through the door at that moment, Robert would take a great deal of satisfaction in decking him with all the diplomacy of an alley drunk.
He took another drink, grimacing against the bite of alcohol on his tongue. He knew what the problem was and he hated it almost as much as he hated the idea of Jacques taking over where he’d left off twenty-one months ago. Robert wasn’t merely jealous. No, this was much worse than simple jealousy. He still had feelings for her. Deep, irrevocable feelings that came from a place inside him he couldn’t control. It was as simple and terrible as that. And he knew with every beat of his heart that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it except move on.
Easier said than done when the woman had him tied up in knots. Here he was on one of the most important missions of his career, consoling himself with cognac because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check, when he should be questioning her about DeBruzkya and Dr. Morrow. How pathetic was that?
“Drinking isn’t going to help anything.”
Robert looked up to find Lily standing in the doorway looking breathtaking and troubled and so beautiful he wanted to reach out and touch her just to make sure she was real. “Maybe not, but it’s damn sure going to make me feel better.”
“I can’t do this, Robert.”