He caught her finger in his hand. “I told you to stay away from him, Beth!”
Her chin jerked up in defiance. “I’m a mother and I’d do anything for my child! What about you, huh? Are you even helping me? Or do you conveniently find obstacles in order to keep me around to slake your lust?”
He scoffed. “Slake my lust, that’s what you call it?”
“That’s what it is! What else would I call it?”
“I didn’t slake my lust with you last night, Beth. I made love to you. Love, damn you!”
“Well, excuse me if it doesn’t feel like it!” she lied.
Making a sound of frustration, he flung her hand aside as if she’d singed him and drained his glass in one long gulp.
Breathless with fury and emotion, Beth cradled her finger to her chest with one hand, hating that it tingled after he’d grasped it, and when he remained quiet, she shook her head.
“I’m your revenge, Landon, why don’t you just admit it!” she cried. “Tit for tat. A wife for a wife.”
He’d been so insistent about getting her in bed, she just knew it was his personal war against Hector.
She heard a faint click outside and saw a sudden flash of light then…thunder.
Landon moved far away from her, to the opposite side of the room. He put a hand up to the window as he watched it rain. A strange gravity entered his voice. “Then the joke’s on me.”
The tension thickened between them, black like tar in an equally black silence.
The clock ticked under the staircase.
She gazed at his wide broad back. She was so angry and at the same time so in love her throat hurt. Inside she felt dark, dark and lost. She was paralyzed, shattering in panic. Because she loved him. And suddenly it felt like he would never return that love.
“Why did you let him touch you, Beth. Do you miss his touch? Do you want it?” he asked raggedly.
“No!” She gasped, aghast that he would think it.
“You rejected mine all this time because it was him you wanted? Did you pretend I was him last night? When you came for me did you—”
“Stop it, stop it!”
His head fell forward, against the window, and he shook his head ruefully. “Why don’t you trust me?” he hissed.
“I do, Landon, I do. I was frightened. I had to know my son was okay. I was helpless all my life, standing like a good little wife by his side. I don’t want to be that person anymore!”
He whipped around and pointed a finger. “You’re not his wife anymore, Beth, you’re mine. My wife!” he thundered. “I know that!” she shouted back.
“Then aren’t I entitled to know my wife is meeting my mortal enemy? I vowed to protect you, Bethany—you and your son. My God! That man, that bastard takes my first wife, and he thinks he can take my second?”
She sucked in a gust of air, for the first time realizing that he’d not only been concerned for her safety, but he was terribly jealous, too. And he was speaking of her as a real wife. Touched in places no one in her life but Landon had ever touched before, she lowered her voice. “I’m all right,” she said, so vaguely she wondered if he’d heard her. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
He met that with silence.
Dark, emotionless silence.
“I didn’t kiss him,” she repeated, her voice threatening to crack. Landon’s face was twisted in torment, and Beth felt twisted on the inside. “Hector wanted me to…to go back to him. I froze when I saw David in the car, watching us, but I swear to you when Hector pulled me close I shut my mouth tight and I—”
Landon growled so angrily, so deeply, so possessively, she fell quiet.
The wind rattled the window casements. Beth shook with the urge to set things right, but she didn’t know how. “I spat at him,” she continued, after a moment. “It felt amazing, it did…until he drove away with David.”
She made a choked sound at the memory and put her arms around herself.
Revenge had been so simple once. Now Landon thought her a liar, as vile as Halifax, as vile as Chrystine had been, and the thought of being compared to them in his mind distressed her.
“I didn’t kiss him,” she insisted, staring down at the floor when looking into his accusing eyes became unbearable. “Please believe me.”
“Those pictures, Beth—” his voice was low, weary “—could be used against us at court if he ever finds them. He painted you as a Jezebel once—he’ll do it again.”
She gathered her fortitude and met his gaze. “I don’t care what anyone thinks as long as you believe me.”
Watching her, he plunged his hands into his pants pockets as though he didn’t know what to do with them. “What we need is to convince the judge you’re a good woman, Beth.”