“Big families aren’t always a buffer against it. It’s the people in them.” She scraped back her chair. “I’d better put these in water.”
She wasn’t going to tell him, he realized. She wasn’t going to speak of her background, her family, unless he pushed. “Rebecca—”
“What were you fighting with your brothers about?” She asked it quickly, as if she sensed what he’d been going to ask.
“Stuff.” Then he shrugged. If he wanted her to be honest, he had to be, as well. “You.”
Stunned, she turned back. “Me? You’re joking.”
“It wasn’t a big deal. Rafe said something to tick me off. That’s usually all it takes.” He crossed over, bent down to take a slim old bottle out of the bottom cupboard. “They think I’m taking advantage of you.”
“I see.” But she didn’t. She took the bottle, filled it, then began to carefully arrange the flowers. “You told them we were intimate.”
“I didn’t have to.” He had an idea of what she was imagining. Locker-room talk, snickers, bragging and nudging elbows. “Rebecca, I didn’t talk about what’s between us.”
And he might have, probably would have, he realized, if it had been another woman. Frowning, he walked over to pour coffee he didn’t want.
He didn’t go around bragging about his relationships with women. But with his brothers, he would certainly have made some comment about a new interest. He’d kept his feelings about Rebecca to himself.
And it wouldn’t have bothered him in the least to have Rafe or any of the others tease or prod about his exploits with a woman. Yet it had with Rebecca. It had hurt and infuriated and—
“What the hell is this?” he muttered.
“I thought it was coffee.”
“What?” He stared into his mug. “No, my mind was wandering. Look, it wasn’t a big deal. It’s just the way we are. We fight.” He smiled a little. “We used to beat on each other a lot more. I guess we’re mellowing.”
“Well.” Thoughtful, she carried the flowers to the table, set them in the center. “I’ve never had anyone fight over me before—especially four big, strong men. I suppose I should be flattered.”
“I have feelings for you.” It came right out of his mouth, out of nowhere. Shaken, Shane lifted his mug and gulped down coffee. “I guess I didn’t like the idea of somebody thinking I’d pushed you into bed.”
Warmth bloomed inside her. A dangerous warmth, she knew. A loving one. She made certain her voice was light. “We both know you didn’t.”
“You haven’t exactly been around the block. I wanted you. I went after you.”
“And I put up a hell of a battle, didn’t I?”
“Not especially.” But he couldn’t smile back at her. “I’ve been around the block, a lot of times.”
“Are you bragging?”
“No, I—” He caught himself. There was amusement in her eyes, and understanding, and something else he didn’t know quite what to do with. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d try to go along with it if you wanted to rethink the situation, or take some time.”
She swallowed a nasty ball of fear. Fear made the voice tremble, and she wanted hers to be steady. “Is that what you want?”
With his eyes on her, he shook his head slowly. “No. Lately I can’t seem to want anything but you. Just looking at you makes my mouth water.”
The warmth came back, pulsed, spread. She crossed the room, lifted her arms to twine them around his neck. “Then why don’t you do more than look?”
Chapter 10
There were many places to talk to ghosts. An open mind didn’t require a dark night, howling winds or swirling mists. This day was bright and beautiful. Trees touched by early fall were shimmering in golds and russets against a sky so blue it might have been painted on canvas.
There was the sound of birdsong, the smell of grass newly mowed. There were fields crackling with drying cornstalks, and, like a miracle, there was a lone doe standing at the edge of the trees, sniffing the air for human scent.
Rebecca had come to the battlefield alone. Early. She lingered here, near the long depression in the ground known as Bloody Lane. She knew the battle, each charge and retreat, and she knew the horrid stage of it when men had fallen and lain in tangled heaps in that innocent-looking dip in the land.
There was a tower at the end of it, built long after the war. She’d climbed it before, knew the view from the top was glorious. From there, she would be able to see the inn, the woods, some of Shane’s fields.