“I’m not running. I said all along that I would only stay through Christmas, and that’s what I’ve done. I also promised I wouldn’t leave this time without saying goodbye.”
“So that’s why you called? To say goodbye?”
“And to make sure you’re all right.”
“How very kind of you.”
Her sarcasm must have hit home, but he went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “I’m leaving my address and telephone number with Wade and Emily. Wade will bring them by to you, if you’re interested.”
“Mmm.” She was so angry she felt as if she could snap the telephone receiver in half.
“You’ll know where I’ll be, if you ever want to talk, or visit California—or whatever,” he finished, sounding uncharacteristically awkward. “This doesn’t have to be a permanent goodbye—unless you want it to be.”
She didn’t reply.
“Rachel?”
“You, Lucas McBride, are a coward,” she informed him coolly. And then she slammed down the receiver.
She had almost forgotten in her fanciful imagining earlier that ferocious guard dogs sometimes turned unexpectedly against the people they were supposed to protect.
AN HOUR LATER, Lucas still felt as if his ear was ringing from that crashing disconnection. Rachel had been furious with him—that was easy enough to figure out. What he couldn’t quite understand was what she had really expected.
He stood alone in the rock house, leaning against a wall and staring morosely out the window opening that faced the bluffs, contemplating Rachel’s reactions.
It wasn’t as if he’d disappeared without a word again. After all that had passed between them, he could understand why that would make her angry. But he’d called to tell her his plans, and even offered his address and phone number. What more did she want from him?
It seemed he was about to find out.
“Hiding, Lucas?”
Frowning, he turned to find Rachel standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her brows drawn into a frown. “How did you know I would be here?”
“I didn’t. I went to Emily’s house first. When she said you’d taken a walk before dinner, I knew where to find you.”
Her face was still pale, he noted in concern. The bruise at her temple looked dark and painful against her skin. The sight of it brought back the murderous rage he’d felt when he’d found her in the trunk of her car yesterday. If Sam Jennings had been within reach, Lucas couldn’t have guaranteed that he would keep his promise to Rachel not to smash the bastard’s face in.
He’d thought it would be easier to leave if he didn’t see her again. Otherwise, he might not be able to give her the time he believed she needed before she made any major decisions. Looking at her now—so pale, and yet so beautiful, so vulnerable, and yet so ferocious—all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and never let her go.
He’d been right to try to stay away from her.
“Why did you come?” he asked, pushing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket to keep himself from reaching for her.
“I have a few things to say. And I want to be looking at you when I say them.”
“Rachel...”
She dropped her hands from her hips and stepped toward him. “Do you know what you did to me fifteen years ago? You broke my heart. No, you didn’t just break it. You shattered it.”
“I told you, Rachel. I didn’t sleep w
ith Lizzie. I didn’t...”
“Yes, you told me. Fifteen years later. Why didn’t you tell me then?”
“You wouldn’t talk to me.”
“You called me one time, nearly two months after my brother died—during an evening when my mother and grandmother were there to hear every word I might have said to you. If you had really wanted to talk to me, you would have made more than that token gesture.”