Part 28 (1/2)

”Your father was a danger to women. He was an abuser but that doesn't mean that you--”

”Jesus Christ, Amelia, you have no f.u.c.king idea what you're talking about!”

All the shock, fear, and pain I'm feeling at that instant merge into a jagged bolt of red hot anger. She's stripping me bare, leaving me exposed in a way I've never been before and can't endure. I am beyond furious, so enraged that men I know who would never flinch in combat would have the sense to run like h.e.l.l from me.

Amelia doesn't so much as blink. She just tips her chin up, tightens her luscious mouth, and says, ”Then explain it to me. Tell me what has you so torn up inside that you've become reckless with your own safety and even with the safety of others who depend on you.”

At the realization that she is right, that's exactly what I've done, something snaps inside me. Before I can take a breath, my arm lashes out, my hand closing around her throat.

She gasps but incredibly she makes no effort to resist. Clearly, the woman has far more guts than sense.

I can't bear the thought of hurting her but I have to make her understand what I really am. And why she should want nothing to do with me.

I step forward, pressing along every inch of her. Her pulse leaps under my fingers. A soft moan escapes her. Staring into eyes so wide and luminous that I could drown in them, I snarl, ”You do not want to do this.”

Chapter Twenty-seven.

Amelia ”You're in my head now?” Ian makes no effort to conceal his disdain but I refuse to let that affect me. Too much is at stake.

”I know what I saw on the polo field. What happened in the Rolls did something to you. I don't understand what that was apart from the fact that it obviously has something to do with your father. But I do know that you need to get past it before you even consider putting your own life and the lives of others at risk.”

”My father? What the h.e.l.l--?”

The look on his face--taut with shock and smoldering rage--should make me tremble. And I do, inwardly.

Outwardly, I lift my chin, look him straight in the eye, and say what I know beyond any doubt to be true. ”Your father was a danger to women. He was an abuser but that doesn't mean that you--”

”Jesus Christ, Amelia, you have no f.u.c.king idea what you're talking about!”

He stares at me as though I am some species of creature he has never encountered before. And perhaps that is the case. He and Susannah may have disagreed from time to time but the beautiful, serene woman in the portrait would never have challenged him as I am doing.

If my guess is right, all his relations.h.i.+ps have been similar--contained, controlled, safe. Deliberately chosen not to arouse whatever he believes is in him and is so determined to repress. Until now.

”Then explain it to me,” I say. ”Tell me what has you so worked up inside that you've become reckless with your own safety and even with the safety of others who depend on you.”

Darkness stirs behind his eyes. Before I can take a breath, his arm lashes out, his hand closing around my throat. A bolt of primal fear whips through me until I realize that he is not applying any pressure. However angry he is, he is still in control of himself.

In a sudden flash of clarity, I understand what he is doing. He wants me to be afraid of him so that I will finally be convinced to see him as he sees himself.

When I refuse to so much as flinch, Ian takes a step forward. His hard body presses all along mine. I feel him in my nipples, the arch of my hips, the cleft between my thighs. Feel him, too, in the memories of all we have shared. The mouth that has so sweetly tormented me curls in a snarl.

Everything about him declares that if I had a fragment of sense, I would get as far away from him as possible.

”You do not want to do this,” he says.

For the first time ever, I feel a stirring of appreciation for all the long years of helplessness floating intermittently conscious in the gestation tank. As agonizing as they were, they taught me patience. And endurance.

And courage.

Ignoring the fluttering in my stomach, I put my hand very lightly over his where he is holding me. At the same time, I take a step back.

He frowns, clearly confused by my response and takes another step forward, allowing no separation between us.

Without letting go of him, I step backward again.

Though he has yet to realize it, we are engaged in a pas de deux in which I appear to retreat before his strength and will when all I am really doing is drawing him to me.

I smile.

Behind his eyes, I see a flicker of doubt. He doesn't understand what is happening or how to deal with it. I have the advantage... for the moment.

Another step followed quickly by a couru, small, swift steps easily matched by his own until we come to rest with my back against the wall of gla.s.s at the far end of the gallery. Its coolness makes me all the more aware of the heat rising in me. My pulse is racing. Under my skin, the muscles in my belly clench.

Ian's eyes, wolf-like with a hard amber sheen, glitter as they stare into mine. I wonder how much he can sense of my arousal. How much he knows of how desperately I want him.

I take a breath, reaching deep for what little semblance of composure I can muster while confronted by my own melting desire for him, the hunger only he can satisfy.

Quietly, I say, ”You have no reason to risk your own life and those of others for my sake. How can you expect me to let you do that? What sort of person would that make me?”

I'm hoping that he will actually think about what I've said but only one word seems to get through.

”Let?” he repeats, sounding incredulous. ”You think that I need your permission?”

His response is beyond frustrating. Never mind that this is about my life and my safety. Heaven forbid that I should have any control over what happens.

I can't keep the exasperation out of my voice. ”You're doing this for my sake. That should give me some say at least.”

He frowns as though I'm speaking a language he doesn't know. No, not just that. One he has never heard before.

I try to help him understand. ”You have people working for you, Gab and others. You must listen to them at some point, at least consider their views.”

”They have skills and experience earned in the field. You don't.”

As though to take the sting from his words, his thumb strokes over the pulse beating in my throat. His gaze s.h.i.+fts to my mouth. His own softens even as his breath quickens. I can see the change in him as the desire that springs so readily, even inevitably between us begins to edge out anger.

His voice drops a notch, becoming as caressing as his touch. Huskily, he says, ”I'll take care of this, baby. You don't need to concern yourself.”

Yearning pools deep in my belly. His words are as seductive as his touch. I want so much to just let go, accept it all, accept him on any terms I have to. But I can't, I won't, not if I hope to retain any sense of my own self, the person I am becoming. I have to be stronger than that.

”Don't I, Ian? Fear doesn't go away just because you shove it down into some dark place deep inside you and pretend that it doesn't exist. That only makes it more powerful. When you least expect it, it can rear up and tear you apart. The only way to prevent that is to drag it into the light of day and confront it.”

Too late, I realize what I am saying. If he asks how I can know any such thing...

I shrug, trying to minimize the damage. ”Or so it seems to me.”

Please let him think that this is a legacy from Susannah who had to cope with the specter of illness, not the result of my own nightmares of the gestation chamber and the clawing fear that I will somehow find myself back in it. I can't bear the thought of going into that with him now, not under these circ.u.mstances when it will only detract from what I must make him understand.