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If he had never heard of Monk's Hall, never set foot in Seabourne, then she wouldn't now have been facing the dereliction of heartbreak.
He came further into the room, tossing the towel over the top of a chair, his dark hair rumpled, making her stupid heart lurch because he was too damned attractive. Beautiful.
'You're packed?' He had noticed the suitcase, the bed Annie had already stripped, and he added, unforgivably, 'I promised Willa we'd stay on for at least another few days.'
'Did you?' The colour drained from her face, leaving it ashen, and her body was rigid with the effort of holding her temper in check. Was he planning on having an affair with both of them? He was sick! she railed inwardly, almost hysterical.
But it was difficult to think straight when faced by his devastating near nudity, by his diabolical behaviour, and almost imp
ossible to speak. But she got the question out at last because she had to have his confirmation of what she had seen and heard.
'Were you with Willa last night?'
'I was.' His narrowed eyes met hers squarely, as if he saw nothing wrong in his behaviour, and she dragged in a gasp of searing pain.
'Then you're welcome to stay on here for as long it takes to get tired of each other. I'm leaving,' she stated rawly, her eyes glittering like rain-washed jet. 'And I hope I never see you again. You and she just about deserve each other!'
Willa was welcome to Luke. She hadn't liked the home-truths Annie had come out with, not one little bit, and the way she had spoken to her last night had been the final straw. So Willa had taken her revenge in the only way she knew how, and Luke, damn him, had been more than willing to aid and abet her!
Pointedly, she looked at her wristwatch and moved stiffly towards the door. 'I have a phone call to make,' she told him, her voice stilted with the effort of holding on to her self-control.
But he blocked her path, his eyes grim.
'What is it with you?' he grated, anger showing in the flashing steel of his eyes. 'What's this stuff about Willa? About walking out on me again?' His ruthlessly determined hands caught her upper arms, swinging her round to face him when she would have pushed past him to the open door. 'We've come a long way in a short time, Annie, further than I dared hope,' he ground out, his fingers biting into her cringing flesh, 'given your blind spot on honest-to-God emotion.'
'And is that what you call your little fling with Willa?' she hurled at him, learning that it was possible to love and hate at the same time, hating the instinctive way her treacherous body reacted to the searing nearness of him. ' "Honest-to-God emotion"? You make me ill!'
'I don't understand you.' His face was tight. He kicked the door closed with his foot, holding her still, his hard fingers leaving bruises that would last for days.
'Oh, don't you?' she sneered. 'And I thought you were an intelligent man! You admit to spending the night with Willa—'
'I did no such thing!' His voice was a lash of contemptuous fury. He looked as if he could have killed her with his bare hands. 'You asked me if I'd been with Willa last night, and so I had. For about a couple of hours.' His words were clipped, derisive. 'I couldn't sleep, so after tossing and turning for hours I went to the pool for a swim. A short time later your mother appeared. She hadn't been able to sleep, either. We talked, that's all. And, in the mood you're in, I have no intention of enlightening you on the subject matter.' He thrust her from him as though she repelled him. 'And if you can make something squalid out of that, then I don't think I like the way your minds works!' He picked up his towel, draping it around his neck. 'If you can't trust me, Annie, then I don't want to know.' His rejection of her was bitter.
But he paused at the door, his eyes chillingly cold, hauntingly beautiful.
'I've been as gentle with you as I know how, all along the line, and I followed you here because I had to. But even my patience has its limits. If what we had means anything at all to you then you'll take time to think things over. You'll stay here and eat lunch with Willa and me in a civilised manner. And maybe—only maybe—I'll be able to bring myself to talk to you this afternoon. But I don't promise anything will come of it because I'm through chasing you. But I do promise this: if you walk out now you'll never see me again.'
She had been shuddering inside ever since he had left the room, his disgust with her plain to see. His anger had been so real, so shattering. As he had said, his patience had finally run out.
His actions, his words, hadn't been those of a two-timing louse. Stark fury had shown in his eyes when he'd accused her of not trusting him, a cold, rejecting bitterness when he'd finally walked out.
And, whatever the rights or wrongs of the situation, she loved him and without him she would always be lonely. But he had said that without trust he didn't want to know. She hadn't trusted him. She still didn't know if she did. The things he had been saying when he'd left Willa's room hadn't sounded like casual conversation!
But she could have handled things differently had she stopped to think. She could have gone to Luke and calmly and sensibly asked him to explain what she had overheard, what she had seen, not verbally jumped on him with bald accusations. So now she was going to have to confront the two of them, ask them to explain what had been happening. It wasn't something she looked forward to, but it had to be done.
Lunch was the kind of nightmare she never wanted to live through again. Willa was plainly ill at ease, fidgeting restlessly with her cutlery, hardly eating a thing, casting more furtive glances at her wrist-watch than she did at the company.
Annie struggled manfully with her asparagus quiche and salad, feeling in disgrace as Luke either ignored her or fixed her with that polished marble stare of his. No eyes had the right to be so chilling, to probe deep into her soul, petrifying it with that frigid gorgon stare. Every muscle in her body seemed to be on fire with the tension that was burning her up, every nerve-end shrieking in raw agony. Had Luke entertained a single shred of his former feeling for her she would have detected it.
That he didn't he was making abundantly clear. And it hurt, dear God, it hurt!
She had to say something now or concede defeat, walk away from Luke and never look back. But she knew she would always be looking back at what might have been, what could have been.
Hiding her shaking hands beneath the tablecloth, she cleared her throat.
'Is one of you going to explain about the news Luke was supposed to break to me?' she asked, her voice tinny. She was hardly aware of Willa's gasp, of the way she dropped her fork to her plate with a clatter that sounded deafening in the suddenly silent room. She was only aware of the strange stillness of Luke's body, of his intent gaze. Flustered, she licked her lips and tried again, 'The gist of the conversation I overheard as Luke left your room, Mother, very early this morning—'
She forced herself to look at the actress, thrown off-balance by the look of distress on the older woman's face, but ploughed on doggedly '—had something to do with some unpalatable news Luke was supposed to break.'
