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‘And for you to prove to me that I had fundamentally misjudged you, and that deep down you were a wonderful human being.’
‘Wonderful? Hmmm. Maybe.’ His eyes challenged her. ‘The choice of adjective was yours, remember, Fran.’
She shook her head. She wasn’t going to let him flirt with her. ‘But the truth was a lot more sinister, wasn’t it, Sam? In fact, you were so angry that you decided you were going to get rid of that rage in a very basic way indeed.’
He raised his brows. ‘You mean by making love to you?’
Fran shook her head. ‘Oh, please don’t dress it up! Certainly not for my sake! We had sex, Sam. Sex! Sex which you had planned. Cormack told me—’
‘Cormack had no right to come to tell you—’
‘He may not have had the right,’ she echoed fiercely. ‘But I’m bloody glad that he did!’
‘Words which I said to him, in confidence and in anger, in the heat of the moment,’ he emphasised slowly. ‘And which were not intended for your ears. Ask yourself honestly, Fran, about what happened between us that night. It was good, wasn’t it?’
She turned her head away.
‘Very good?’
He caught her arm but she pushed him away.
‘Wasn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she said at last, reluctantly.
‘And did my actions seem like the actions of a man motivated only by anger? Or revenge?’
No, they didn’t, and that was what was confusing her. ‘Maybe you’re good at faking it?’ she suggested insultingly.
Sam took a slow, deep inhalation of air through his nostrils. ‘I thought that was what women tended to do,’ he murmured.
‘I meant faking affection, not orgasm!’ she snapped, thinking that no woman would have to fake anything if they were in bed with a man like Sam. But she closed her mind to her thoughts. Too dangerous. ‘You were as sweet as honey to me, Sam!’ she accused. ‘Luring me into your arms—’
‘Don’t make me out to be some sort of primitive caveman,’ he said, in a weary voice. ‘I got the distinct impression that you were in just the right mood to be lured.’
‘That’s not the point!’
‘No? Then what exactly is your point?’
‘Just that you’re good at getting what you want. You wanted Rosie and you’ve had her—and now you’ve had me, too!’ There was a long pause. ‘Cold-bloodedly using a charm offensive to have your way with us! Just like she said!’
The pause which followed this statement was even longer.
‘So you’re not even going to deny it?’ she questioned shrilly.
‘No.’
Fran had expected emotion. A furious denial. The true story of how he had come to take Rosie’s virginity. But there was nothing. Just a rather bland, disappointed look. As if he had reached the end of the line.
‘Well, if that’s what you really think about, then there’s nothing more to be said. Is there?’ He looked at her for a long, considering moment, and Fran wondered what he would have done if she had thrown herself into his arms and told him that they would forget everything which had happened in the past. And start anew.
Except that they couldn’t. She knew they couldn’t. The accusations lay like a great, gaping gulf between them.
‘Goodbye, Fran,’ he said quietly.
‘Goodbye, Sam,’ she answered, in a wooden voice, waiting until she could see his tall, black-haired figure striding off down the road before she allowed herself the luxury of dissolving into tears.
But the tears brought her no comfort, only the growing realization that she had made a huge mistake. She picked up the phone to try Rosie’s number in London, but the line was busy.
