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Life in New York had taught her that. You'd be walking down a street, minding your own business, and all of a sudden some fruitcake would pop out of a doorway, ranting about the end of the world.
You learned real fast that the only way to deal with things like that was to show as little reaction as possible. Besides, there was almost always someplace to pop into, a coffee shop or a drugstore and if you were really lucky, you might spot a police car cruising by.
On the other hand, this wasn't New York, it was Elizabeth Island. And this was Charon's Crossing. There were no shops, no people, no way to communicate with anybody.
If only the damned telephone worked. But it didn't; it just squatted on the console table, within reach but about as useful as feathers on a fish.
"Where did he take you?"
Kathryn's eyes flashed to his face. "Where did who take me?"
"Your pirate lover."
"My what?"
His eyes darkened. "Don't try my patience, Catherine. You know who I'm talking about. Where did your swashbuckler with the greasy curls take you for your little tete-a-tete?"
Kathryn's jaw dropped. Efram? He thought Efram, with his hollow chest and his acne, was her lover?
She almost laughed. Instead, she shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't think that's any of your business." Let him think she had a lover, someone who was liable to turn up at any minute.
"I'm making it my business," he said through his teeth. "Did he take you to his ship?"
"We went to town. We walked, looked at the shops... you know."
His mouth twisted. "Do you really expect me to believe you and your lover spent the afternoon shopping?"
Casually, she strolled past him, as if she were heading for the settee. He didn't try to stop her. Emboldened, she mentally measured the distance to the door. Ten feet, perhaps twelve. Yes, as far as she could see, that was her best bet. If she could just make it across the foyer to the library, she could slam the door in his face and jam it shut with a chair...
"Damn you, Cat! Answer my question!"
"He'll be back, if that's what you want to know." She turned and looked at him, forcing herself to speak calmly. "But—but I won't tell him about—about what's happened. I mean, we can just forget about your—your visit."
Matthew's eyes narrowed. "How generous you are, Catherine."
"I'm sure you had your reasons for break-... for coming to this house."
He smiled, his teeth very even and white against his tanned face.
"That's an interesting way of putting it."
Kathryn managed a smile. "Well, I'm trying to put this in the best possible light. For both our sakes."
"Really," he said, his voice almost a purr.
"Of course. There's no reason to end this on an unpleasant note."
His smile was cold and mirthless. It sent a whisper of fear feathering along her spine.
"Given the circumstances, I suspect I would make the same attempt to circumvent the inevitable." His smile fled. "But you must know that there's nothing you can say will accomplish that."
It was horrible, being toyed with like this, and Kathryn's composure slipped.
"Damn you," she cried. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why do you avoid using my name?"
