“Camden?” She stepped closer, her gaze narrowing as a sinking sensation settled in her belly. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He studied her, and she could almost see the calculation behind his eyes. He was trying to decide what to admit to her.
“Camden?” she pressed.
He shrugged one shoulder as if it were of no import.
She crossed the short distance separating them and punched him in the shoulder with her fist, but that probably hurt her hand more than it wounded him. She shook her wrist lightly. He smirked and she was tempted to try again.
“Feel better?” he asked lightly.
“No,” she snapped. Her eyes burned. She pressed a hand to her chest. “You know how important this is to me.”
He looked uncomfortable for a moment, and she knew she had him. “You didn’t want Mackenzie.”
Her chest lifted on a quick inhale. “I could have wanted him.” In time.
His square jaw clenched. Even in the dim shadows, she detected a muscle feathering along his cheek. “It would have been a mistake.”
“And why is that?”
“Because …”
“Why?”
“Because you deserve better,” he bit out.
Her mouth closed with a snap, his flattery now mingling with her anger. She pushed the softer sentiment away.
“What was it you said to me?” she whispered, pressing fingers to her suddenly aching temples. She felt as though he were yanking her left, then right, up, then down. Kissing her. Pushing her away. Chasing her. Running away. “Cease behaving as a child? Well, Camden, why don’t you take a bit of your own advice and stay out of my life?”
She stepped around him, giving him wide berth, but his voice stopped her before she reached the door. “The difference between you and me is that you fail to exercise good judgment.”
Anger returned in a searing flash. She turned slowly, a red haze filling her vision. “Is that what you call your behavior?” She advanced on him. “I’ve watched you live your life as you please with little thought to decorum or propriety.” The words flew from her lips like mortar. Emotion clogged her voice and tightened her chest. “I watched you tup a maid in the greenhouse when I was fifteen years old. I thought I loved you.” At his shocked expression, she added, “I know, senseless, yes? It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know. I see that now, but back then I was hurt and drew that horrible picture of you. I didn’t mean for it to be discovered. You never even heard me out when I tried to apologize.” Her voice cracked and she forced a shrug. “Since then we’ve been at this stupid war, and I’m just weary of it. So very weary. I want it to stop. I want you to stop and leave me alone. Let me live my life.”
Color flushed his cheeks. His mouth worked before he asked, “You were there?”
She nodded, the dreaded burn of tears threatening.
“Oh, Aurelia.” He stepped toward her and she held up a hand. He stopped as though she had erected an invisible barrier between them with that hand.
“No,” she commanded. She couldn’t have him touch her again. Not anymore. It addled her head.
He angled his head, looking at her almost tenderly. “Aurelia,” he repeated.
She shook her head fiercely, hating herself for having told him. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”