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‘You tell me,’ Ethan snarled, ‘Since you seem to know so much about it.’
The tension in him frightened her. Wound up so tight, he surely had to snap. But she wouldn’t let it go. She couldn’t let it go. If she couldn’t reach out now and touch him, she never would. She went for his machismo with all guns blazing. ‘If a gang of thugs attacked you it’s nothing to be ashamed of.’
‘Ashamed?’ Ethan roared, exactly as she’d hoped. ‘You think I’m ashamed?’
His fury filled the room, but as the window of opportunity opened she climbed through it. ‘What am I supposed to think if you won’t tell me?’
‘May I suggest you don’t think about it at all, since it’s no concern of yours?’
Savannah’s heart was hammering in her chest at the thought of what she’d started, but if Ethan held back now there was no hope for him—for them. ‘If we mean anything to each other.’ She could see the black void in Ethan, but stubbornly she kept right on blundering towards it. ‘If you can’t trust me.’
He was already reaching for his shirt. ‘Get dressed,’ he said, tossing her clothes onto the bed. He couldn’t wait to leave her. She’d gone too far.
Savannah dressed quickly, determined to finish what she’d started, and with everything half-fastened and hanging off her shoulders she raced to the door. Pressing her back against it, she barred his way. ‘Tell me—tell me everything, Ethan. I won’t move until you do.’
He looked down at her from his great height as if she were an annoying flea he might choose to flick out of his way. She braced herself against the look in his eyes, and against the knowledge that Ethan could always use the simple expedient of lifting her out of his way. His expression assured her he had considered that, but to her immense relief he eased back. Several seconds passed while they measured each other and then he started speaking.
‘A gang of men attacked me with baseball bats. When I was unconscious they cut me.’ He said this with all the expression of a man reading out a shopping list. ‘Are you satisfied, Savannah?’
‘Not nearly.’ She felt so sick she could hardly stand. ‘Why did they do that?’ she demanded.
‘Don’t push it.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t talk about this—not to you, not to anyone.’
He held her gaze, unblinking, until she was forced to look away.
‘You were lucky to survive—’
‘I said I don’t talk about it.’ His expression had turned to stone.
‘You were lucky to retain your mobility. There must be many who have not been so fortunate.’
‘Savannah,’ he growled in warning.
‘Or who have lived to tell the tale.’
‘Comprehend this,’ he snarled, bringing his face menacingly close. ‘I don’t want your understanding, and I sure as hell don’t want your pity.’ Pulling back abruptly, he unlocked the door and left the room.
She had prepared for this, but, even so, Savannah was stunned for a moment. The energy from Ethan’s fury still rang in her ears, disorientating her, but she rallied quickly. Chasing after him, straightening her clothes as she ran, she followed him up the stairs. The lights had been dimmed as the staff had gone to bed, and tall, black shadows crossed with Ethan’s, joining them by a tenuous thread. Driving herself to the limit, Savannah took the stairs two by two.
Catching hold of her as she came up to him on the landing, Ethan swung her round. ‘Do you and I speak the same language?’ he demanded, trapping her against the wall.
She fought him, warned him to get off her and railed at him, but Ethan stole each impassioned word from her lips with a kiss.
‘Hiding the evidence of your arousal?’ Ethan taunted, as when he released her she stood with the back of her hand across her mouth.
‘I love you. Of course I respond to you. I have nothing to hide.’ She pulled her hand away, revealing her love-swollen lips. ‘Why do you hide your pain from me, Ethan?’
‘My pain?’ Ethan laughed. ‘Spare me the psychobabble.’
‘Is it too close to home?’
He greeted this with a contemptuous sound.
‘So now you return to your ivory tower,’ Savannah observed. ‘And I go home?’
