“I was not cowering! You startled me, that’s all.”
“Why did you really come here this morning, Rachel?”
She pushed her hands into the pockets of her lined denim jacket. “I told you. I came to apologize for what I said.”
“You don’t owe me an apology. What you said was the truth, wasn’t it?”
It had been the truth, of course. Rachel wasn’t afraid that Lucas would harm her physically—but on an emotional level, he terrified her. It had taken her years to get over Lucas McBride. To finally feel that she had put her girlhood dreams behind her and learned to be content with the life she’d built for herself.
She was no longer the naive young girl who had been so desperately in love with this man. But the fact that her pulse was racing now, her palms damp, her throat tight, warned her that she was still dangerously vulnerable where Lucas was concerned.
He had almost destroyed the girl. She didn’t even want to think about what he could do to the woman.
She took a step backward. “I have to go.”
“You’re still afraid of me.” Lucas’s voice was as flat as his cold blue eyes.
She refused to answer, though pride made her lift her chin a little higher. “I have to go,” she repeated.
“Fine. Run away from me, Rachel Jennings. That’s what you did before—and it mattered then.”
The sudden bitterness in his voice almost made her gasp. He blamed her for what had happened between them fifteen years ago? Could he possibly be that arrogant?
“You were the one who left town without a word,” she reminded him angrily. “You were the one who broke my heart. Don’t even try to pretend I mattered to you. You fed me enough lies then, and I believed everything you said because I was in love with you. But I’m not as trusting now as I was then. And it’s far too late for apologies.”
His eyes narrowed. For the first time that morning, she saw emotion in them. And she almost recoiled from the sheer power of it.
“At least we agree on that,” he almost snarled. “It’s much too late for you to apologize.”
This time she did gasp. For her to apologize?
He really was the most incredibly arrogant man she’d ever known. “Of all the—”
Lucas was in no mood, apparently, to prolong the quarrel. He simply walked past her and strode down the path toward the woods, disappearing into the trees without a backward glance.
Arrogance, she decided furiously, didn’t begin to describe Lucas McBride.
LIES. Rachel had accused him of telling her lies fifteen years ago.
He’d poured his heart out to her, damn it. Bared his soul. Opened himself to her as he had to no one else, not even the little sister he’d cherished.
And Rachel accused him of telling her nothing but lies.
How could he have been so wrong about what they’d shared? Had he really been so naive that he’d believed her love for him was strong enough to survive a scandal?
It hadn’t particularly surprised him when more than half the citizens of Honoria had believed him capable of murdering Roger Jennings. He’d become accustomed to their suspicions and dislike of him. Hell, he supposed he’d earned most of that with his quick temper and rebellious conduct.
But with Rachel he’d been different. He’d felt no need to put on a front for her. She’d never seemed to look down at him because his father was a thoroughly dislikable man, or because his stepmother had been the town whore. Rachel hadn’t even blamed Lucas because his stepmother had hurt her family by running off with her father.
Roger had blamed the entire McBride family for Nadine’s behavior.
But Rachel had been the first person to look beyond the bravado Lucas had assumed for the disapproving townspeople, and to find the real person inside him. Or so he had believed. If she really thought that he’d ever lied to her, or that he’d had anything to do with her brother’s death, then she hadn’t known him at all.
“You certainly look serious. What’s wrong?”
Lucas hadn’t even heard his sister enter the house. He looked up from the untouched cup of rapidly cooling coffee on the table in front of him to find Emily standing in the kitchen doorway, peeling off the coat she’d worn to work.
“Want a cup of coffee?” he asked, standing. “I just made a fresh pot.”