"What did you say?"
"That you've a pleasing face to see of a morning." She smiled. "You see it's a language as useful for flattery as it is for cursing. Now say something to me in French."
He did more than speak. He leaned over, touched his lips softly to hers, then murmured, "Me reveiller a cote de toi, c'est le plus beau de tons les reves. " Her heart did a long, slow swirl in her chest.
"What does it mean?"
'That waking beside you is more lovely than any dream."
She lowered her eyes. "Well. It seems French is a tongue more given to pretty sounds than plain English."
Her quick, unplanned feminine reaction both amused and allured. "I've touched you. I should have tried French before."
"Don't be foolish." But he had touched her, deeply. She combated the uneasy weakness by attacking her meal. "What am I eating?"
"Eggs Benedict."
"It's good," she said with her mouth full. "A bit on the rich side, but good. What are we after doing today, Rogan?"
"You're still blushing, Maggie."
"I'm not." She met his eyes narrowly, in a dare. "I'd like to know what the plans are. I'm assuming this time you'll discuss them with me first instead of just tugging me along like an idiot dog."
"I'm growing very fond of that wasp you call a tongue," he said pleasantly. "I'm probably losing my mind. And before you sting me again, I thought you'd enjoy seeing some of the city. You'd no doubt enjoy the Louvre. So I've left the morning quite clear for sight-seeing, or shopping, or whatever you'd like. Then we'll go by the gallery later this afternoon."
The notion of strolling through the great museum pleased her. She topped off Rogan's coffee, then heated up her own cup of tea. "I'd like to wander about, I suppose. As for shopping, I'll want to find something to take back for Brie."
"You should have something for Maggie as well."
"Maggie doesn't need anything. Besides, I can't afford it."
That's absurd. You've no need to deny yourself a present or two. You've earned it."
"I've spent what I've earned." She grimaced over her cup. "Do they have the nerve to call this tea?"
"What do you mean you've spent it?" He set down his fork. "Only a month ago I gave you a check in the six figures. You can hardly have frittered that away."
"Frittered?" She gestured dangerously with her knife. "Do I look like a fritterer?"
"Good God, no."
"And what's that supposed to mean? That I haven't the taste or style to spend my money well?"
He held up a hand for peace. "It means nothing more than no. But if you've wasted the money I gave you, I'd like to know how."
"I wasted nothing, as if it were your business to begin with."
"You are my business. If you can't manage your money, I'll do it for you."
"You'll not. Why you pompous, penny-pinching ass, 'tis mine, isn't it? And it's gone, or most of it. So you'll just have to see that you sell my work and get me more."
'That's precisely what I'll do. Now, where did it go?"
"Away." Infuriated, embarrassed, she shoved back from the table. "I've expenses, don't I? I needed supplies, and I was foolish enough to buy a dress."'
He folded his hands. "You spent, in a month's time, nearly two hundred thousand pounds on supplies and a dress."
"I had a debt to pay," she raged at him. "And why should I have to explain to you? It says nothing of how I spend my money in your bloody contract."
"The contract has nothing to do with it," he said patiently, because he could see it wasn't anger so much as mortification that was driving her. "I'm asking you where the money went. But you're certainly under no legal obligation to tell me."
His reasonable tone only pinched harder at her humiliation. "I bought my mother a house, though she'll never thank me for it. And I had to furnish it for her, didn't I? She'd have taken every stick and cushion from Brianna otherwise." Frustrated, she dragged both hands through her hair and sent it into fiery tufts. "And I had to hire Lottie, and see they had a car. And she'll have to be paid every week, so I gave Brie enough for six months in salary and for food and such. Then there was the lien, though Brie will be furious when she finds I've paid it off. But it was mine to pay, as Da took it out for me. So it's done. I kept my word to him and I won't have you telling me what I should or shouldn't do with my own money."
She'd stormed around the room while she spoke and came to a halt now by the table where Rogan continued to sit, silently, patiently.
"If I might summarize?" he said. "You bought a house for your mother, furnished it, purchased a car and hired a companion for her. You've paid off a lien, which will displease your sister, but which you felt was your responsibility. You've given Brianna enough to keep your mother for six months, bought supplies. And with what was left, you bought yourself a dress."
That's right. That's what I said. What of it?"
She stood there, trembling with fury, her eyes sharp and bright and eager for battle. He could, he mused, tell her he admired her incredible generosity, her loyalty to her family. But he doubted that she'd appreciate the effort.
That explains it." He picked up his coffee again. "I'll see that you get an advance."
She wasn't at all sure she could speak. When she did, her voice came out in a dangerous hiss. "I don't want your bloody advance. I don't want it. I'll earn my own keep."
"Which you're doing—and quite well. It's not charity, Maggie, or even a loan. It's a simple business transaction."
"Be damned to your business." Her face was pink with embarrassment now. "I'll not take a penny until I've earned it. I've just gotten myself out of debt, I won't go into it again."
"God, you're stubborn." He tapped his fingers on the table as he thought her reaction through, trying to understand her display of passion. If it was pride she needed so badly, he could help her keep it. "Very well, we'll do this another way entirely. We've had several offers on your Surrender, which I've turned down."
"Turned down?"
"Mmm. The last, I believe, was thirty thousand." "Pounds!" The word erupted from her. "I was offered thirty thousand pounds for it, and you turned it down? Are you mad? It may seem like little or nothing to you, Rogan Sweeney, but I could live handsomely on that amount for more than a year. If this is how you manage—"
"Be quiet." And because he said it so casually, so absently, she did just that. "I refused the offer because I intended to buy the piece myself, after we'd toured it. I'll simply buy it now and it will continue on the tour as part of my collection. We'll make it thirty-five thousand."
He tossed off the amount as though it was loose change casually dropped on a bureau.
Something inside her was trembling like the heart of a frightened bird. "Why?"
"I can't, ethically, purchase it for myself at the same amount offered by a client."
"No, I mean why do you want it?"
He stopped his mental calculations and looked up at her. "Because it's beautiful work, intimate work. And because whenever I look at it, I remember making love with you the first time. You didn't want to sell it. Did you think I couldn't see that in your face the day you showed it to me? Did you really think I couldn't understand how much it hurt you to give it up?"
Unable to speak, she simply shook her head and turned away.
"It was mine, Maggie, even before you finished it. As much, I think, as it was yours. And it'll go to no one else. I never intended it to go to anyone else."
Still silent, she walked to the window. "I don't want you to pay me for it."
"Don't be absurd—"
"I don't want your money," she said quickly, while she could. "You're right—that piece was terribly special to me, and I'd be grateful if you'd accept it." She let out a long breath, staring hard through the glass. "I'd be pleased to know it was yours."
"Ours," he said in a tone that drew her gaze back to his like a magnet. "As it was meant to be."
"Ours, then." She sighed. "How can I stay angry
with you?" she said quietly. "How can I fight what you do to me?"
"You can't."
She was afraid he was right about that. But she could, at least, take a stand on a smaller matter. "I'm grateful to you for offering an advance, but I don't want it. It's important to me to take only what I make, when I make it. I've enough left to get by. I want no more than that for now. What needed to be done is done. From this point on, what comes will be mine."
"It's only money, Maggie."
"So easy to say when you've more than you've ever needed." The edge in her voice, so much like her mother's, stopped her cold. She took a deep breath and let out what was in her own heart. "Money was like an open wound in my house—the lack of it, my father's skill for losing it, and my mother's constant nagging for more. I don't want to depend on pounds for my happiness, Rogan. And it frightens and shames me that I might."
So, he thought, studying her, this was why she'd fought him every step of the way. "Didn't you tell me once that you didn't pick up your pipe each day thinking about the profit on the other end of it?"
"Yes, but—"
"Do you think of it now?"
"No. Rogan—"
"You're arguing against shadows, Maggie." He rose to cross to her. 'The woman you are has already decided that the future will be very different from the past."
"I can't go back," she murmured. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't go back."
"No, you can't. You'll always be one to go forward." He kissed her softly on