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“So what were my aunt and uncle doing here?” he asked.
“Looking for you. And demanding explanations I wasn’t prepared to give. I’m afraid they went away with a very low opinion of both of us.”
“No doubt they wondered what new folly I’d committed that would blacken the Sinclair name. Make them the subject of another round of gossip among those who’ve nothing better to do than shred their friends and destroy their enemies.”
“The folly was marrying me. I don’t think they’ve decided whether I wed you for your money or your winning personality.”
That made him laugh. Amazing what a smile could do. Accentuating the golden perfection of every feature. Turning extremely handsome into wickedly gorgeous. Her whole body lit up, every nerve tingling. When had the space between them vanished to inches?
“And why did you marry me?” The evocative tone, like the whispered words of the other night, washed through her body in an almost painful wave.
She daubed at his gash long after the last blood had been wiped away. It gave her time to rein in her runaway emotions. Slow her galloping heart. “I’ll get my bag. I can take care of the wound. Like last time.”
He pulled the towel from her trembling fingers. “I’ve embarrassed you.”
She lifted her face to him. Read the naked desire in his eyes. Clear as the heart of a flame. He didn’t even bother to shield it. “Why do you have to be this way?” She hated the shake in her voice. “Why can’t you stay horrible? Make keeping my distance easy?”
“Answer my question first.”
She swallowed, grabbed firm hold of herself. If she took Cam to her bed, it wouldn’t be when her rioting senses teased her with the what-ifs of old dreams. She threw up walls, using any defense—any weapon to hold him at bay. “I didn’t. I screwed you. Charlotte married you.”
It worked just as she thought it would. A chasm opened between them, immediate and unbridgeable. And Morgan regretted it as soon as the tired accusation left her lips.
Morgan opened her eyes, unsure of what woke her, but unable to drift back to sleep.
She lay quiet, listening to the deep growl of the city. Not the dull roar of the surf. That sound soothed her. Helped her sleep. This reminded her more of a snarling animal. A threat waiting for her just beyond the edges of her awareness. Beneath the city’s noise, the buzz and hum of Other held to its dissonant chord. Muted, but constant as if carried on a current of air.
“No!”
The shout came from Cam’s room. Sharp. Loud. Somewhere between a cry and a curse.
Morgan was up and moving before the sound died away. A robe across her shoulders. Every sense alive. She reached out, searching for echoes of Doran’s magic. Nothing. Any intruder was of the mortal variety. The danger lessened, but not absent.
Shadows wrapped the corridor in darkness, a filmy light coming from a high round window at the end of the hall.
The shout came again. But with the angry call came understanding. The attack on Cam came from within where no amount of magic or swordplay could help.
She entered his room, the shuttered windows making the gloom here thick as the heavy carpet on the floor. Cam wrestled with his sheets, the carved muscles of his chest hard with tension as he fought his private ghosts, a grimace of anguish marring his face.
The pale slash of his latest injury was already fading into the grim web of older scars. Ancient hurts. She’d done more healing since joining Cam than she’d done her whole life. As prone to getting into scrapes as he seemed to be, it was a wonder he’d survived without her for so long.
He groaned, thrashing against the restraints of the knotted sheets.
Unable to watch the battle continue, she ran to him, her only thought to pull him out of his nightmare. “Cam. Wake up.”
Barely had her fingers touched him when he caught her wrist. Dragged her down onto the bed. Flipping her over. Straddling her hips. His forearm across her throat, his expression cruel and unfeeling.
“Drop it,” he snarled, hate and agony equal in his broken voice. The promise of deadly violence ready to erupt. “Drop it, Charlotte, or I’ll kill you.”
He meant it. She felt the first squirm of panic as her lungs burned from lack of air. Throwing herself forward, she broke Cam’s grip. Shocking him awake with a blow to the midsection.
Awareness flashed into his eyes, and then horror. He flung himself off her, his breath coming in sucking gasps as if he’d been running. “Damn it, Morgan. Damn it. I’m sorry.”
“No permanent harm done.” Morgan sat up, rubbing her neck. “I don’t think.”
Dragging the sheet across his lap, he sat on the edge of the bed, his head hanging, one hand clutching the cross at his throat as if for comfort. “You shouldn’t be here. Not unless…” He paused. Took a long, unsteady breath. “Don’t do this to me, Morgan. I can’t take it. Not tonight.”
She ignored his plea, too close to finding the truth about Cam’s marriage. This house. “What did you want Charlotte to drop? What happened between you two? Really?”
