Staying true to Carissa’s audacious nature, she had purposely goaded him about watching her wash though she hoped he wouldn’t, and she certainly hadn’t wanted him to.
She truly wished to keep him at a distance, especially after he had so gently tended her iced fingers. He had touched her with such tenderness and came so near to kissing her that she realized he could be dangerously close to discovering the truth.
He might not have seen Hope with clear vision, but with his every touch he had become familiar with her, and those loving touches could not easily be forgotten. And then what would happen if he discovered Hope was none other than Carissa?
She shook her head, not wanting to think of the consequences. He would certainly believe she had tricked him. He would never accept that she was more like Hope than Carissa. He had too much hate invested in Carissa to think otherwise.
The door swung open again, and Ronan kicked it shut so hard behind him that it trembled. She remained sitting on the chair by the hearth. Now was not the time for chatter. She much preferred silent observation.
He stacked the wood with more force than necessary, and this time as he strode past her, he didn’t take his eyes off her. He glared at her as if he were looking through her. However, Carissa would never shrink away in fear.
No, she’d boldly speak her mind, so she tossed her chin up, and said, “It looks like you regret not accepting my offer.”
His nostrils flared, and he looked ready to pounce on her, though certainly not with passion. Instead, he stormed out of the cottage. The door once again trembled as he slammed it shut, and she shuddered.
She had been foolish. She had hungered for his gentle touch and surrendered to it. He and Hope had laced fingers so often, that there was a chance he would recall her familiar touch. And yet she had dismissed it without a thought.
If she wanted to survive this ordeal and eventually escape, she would have to be more diligent. And she would need to make certain that Carissa remained dominant. She couldn’t allow Ronan even a brief moment of doubt.
He was back in no time, again stacking the wood with more force than needed.
“Angry with yourself,” she shot at him as he hurried past her.
“No,” he nearly shouted. “With you.”
She laughed. “Because I tempt you?”
“Who are you?” he demanded as he approached her.
She bolted off the chair. “You know very well who I am.”
He tore off his cloak and flung it on the bed, then ran a rough hand through his hair as if he wanted to tear it out. He turned his head away, and Carissa knew that he was trying to temper his anger.
What disturbed her even more was that his present reaction was a good indication of how he would feel if he learned the truth about her. He would not be happy to discover Hope alive. He would think Carissa an even-more-deceitful woman. He would never believe the truth.
He turned to glare at her, his anger abated, though his eyes still heated. “You are a deceitful and selfish woman, who I will never trust.”
“You mean who you fear,” she corrected smugly.
He moved closer to loom menacingly over her. “I never feared you, hated, yes, but never did I fear you.”
She didn’t shrink away from his attempted intimidation. With a prideful stretch and her shoulders squared and calling on all the courage she possessed, she looked him straight in the eyes. “And you have good reason to, for it was a pleasure squeezing the last breath of life out of the woman you loved.”
Chapter 13
Ronan was dangerously close to doing to her precisely what she had done to Hope, but he controlled himself. Perhaps it was because that shred of doubt that had suddenly risen to torment him lingered in the back of his mind. And he had to settle it before he did anything else.
“In time, Carissa, you will pay for all you’ve done to me and my family.”
“I’ll worry about that when”—she laughed—“or rather if it ever comes about.”
“Still confident you’ll escape me?” he asked, his own confidence and calm restored.
“I know I will,” she answered, and walked past him to turn the rocking chair around and sit.
He remained standing, feeling he had gained the upper hand somehow and suddenly wanting to discover more about this woman, who he realized was more of an enigma to him than he had suspected.
“Even if you managed such a remarkable feat,” he said, “where would you go? I don’t imagine you have many friends left in the area.”
“You think I would admit to any resources?”
“I truly can’t imagine you having any,” he said. “Your father was the last of a dying breed of vicious conquerors who had no true homeland and wanted nothing more than destruction and power. He made only enemies, no friends, and since you are his daughter, you suffer from the same foolishness.”