Born in Fire
Page 39

“Is it so late then? I must have lost track. Well then, I’ll say good night.”
“No, you won’t.” He took a step toward her. “What you will do is give me an explanation for your behavior.”
“That’s something I don’t have to explain to anyone, but if you’d be more clear, perhaps I’d make an exception.”
“There were nearly two hundred people gathered tonight for your benefit. You were unbelievably rude.”
“I was nothing of the kind.” More weary than she wanted to admit, she strolled past him into the parlor, slipped out of the miserably uncomfortable heels and propped her tired feet on a tassled stool. “The truth is, I was so unbelievably polite, my teeth nearly fell out of my head. I hope to Christ I don’t have to smile at another bloody soul for a month. I wouldn’t mind one of your brandies now, Rogan. It’s chilly out this time of night.”
He noticed for the first time that she wore nothing over the thin black dress. “Where the devil is your wrap?”
“I didn’t have one. You’ll have to mark that down in your little book. Acquire Maggie a suitable evening wrap.” She reached up for the snifter he’d poured.
“Damn it, your hands are frozen. Have you no sense?”
“They’ll warm quick enough.” Her brows arched as he stalked over to the fireplace and crouched down to start a fire. “What, no servants?”
“Shut up. The one thing I won’t tolerate from you tonight is sarcasm. I’ve taken all I plan to take.”
Flames licked into life to eat greedily at dry wood. In the shifting light Maggie saw that his face was tight with anger. The best way to meet temper, she’d always thought, was to match it.
“I’ve given you nothing to take.” She sipped the brandy, would have sighed over the welcome heat of the liquor if she and Rogan hadn’t been glaring at each other. “I went to your showing, didn’t I? In a proper dress, with a proper foolish smile pasted on my face.”
“It was your showing,” he shot back. “You ungrateful, selfish, inconsiderate brat.”
However weary her body, she wouldn’t allow him to get away with such language. She stood rigidly and faced him. “I won’t contradict you. I’m exactly as you say, and have been told so most of my life. Fortunately for both of us, it’s only my work you have to be concerned about.”
“Do you have any idea the time and effort and expense that went into putting that show together?”
“That’s your province.” Her voice was as stiff as her spine. “As you’re always so quick to tell me. And I was there, stayed above two hours, rubbing elbows with strangers.”
“You’d better learn that a patron is never a stranger, and that rudeness is never attractive.”
The quiet, controlled tone cut through her defensive armor like a sword. “I never agreed to stay the whole evening. I needed to be alone, that’s all.”
“And to wander the streets all night? I’m responsible for you while you’re here, Maggie. For God’s sake, I’d nearly called out the garda.”
“You’re not responsible for me, I am.” But she could see now that it wasn’t simply anger darkening his eyes, but concern as well. “If I caused you worry, I’ll apologize. I simply went for a walk.”
“You went out strolling and left your first major show without a by-your-leave?”
“Yes.” The snifter was out of her hand and hurtling toward the stone hearth before she realized it. Glass shattered, rained like bullets. “I had to get out! I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t bear it. All those people, staring at me, at my work, and the music, the lights. Everything so lovely, so perfect. I didn’t know it would scare me so. I thought I’d gotten over it since that first day you showed me the room, and my work set up like something out of a dream.”
“You were frightened.”
“Yes, yes, damn you. Are you happy to hear it? I was terrified when you opened the door and I looked inside and saw what you’d done. I could barely speak. You did this to me,” she said furiously. “You opened this Pandora’s box and let out all my hopes and my fears and my needs. You can’t know what it’s like to have needs, terrible ones, you don’t even think you should have.”
He studied her now, ivory and flame in a slim black dress. “Oh, but I can,” he said quietly. “I can. You should have told me, Maggie.” His voice was gentle now as he stepped toward her.
She threw up both hands to ward him off. “No, don’t. I couldn’t bear you to be kind just now. Especially when I know I don’t deserve it. It was wrong of me to leave that way. It was selfish and ungrateful.” She dropped her hands helplessly at her sides. “But there was no one for me up those stairs. No one. And it broke my heart.”
She looked so delicate all at once, so he did what she asked and didn’t touch her. He was afraid if he did, however gently, she might snap in his hands. “If you’d let me know how important it was to you, Maggie, I’d have arranged to have your family here.”
“You can’t arrange Brianna. God knows you can’t bring my father back.” Her voice broke, shaming her. With a strangled sound she pressed a hand to her mouth. “I’m overtired, that’s all.” She fought a bitter war to control her voice. “Overstimulated with all the excitement. I owe you an apology for leaving the way I did, and gratitude for all the work you did for me.”
He preferred her raging or weeping to this stilted politeness. It left him no choice but to respond in kind. “The important thing is that the show was a success.”
“Yes.” Her eyes glittered in the firelight. “That’s the important thing. If you’ll excuse me now, I’ll go up to bed.”
“Of course. Maggie? One more thing.”
She turned back. He stood before the fire, the flames leaping gold behind him. “Yes?”
“I was there for you, up those stairs. Perhaps next time you’ll remember that, and be content.”
She didn’t answer. He heard only the rustle of her dress as she hurried across the hall and up the stairs, then the quick click of her bedroom door closing.
He stared at the fire, watched a log break apart, cut through by flame and heat. Smoke puffed once, stirred by the wind. He continued to stare as a shower of sparks rained against the screen, scattered over stone and winked out.