love and trust. But you saw a horny dimwit and you just had to have your fun, didn’t you?”
“Helena!”
His expression began to harden, which only made her wilder. “Why would you think you could ever displace Mr. Martin from my heart? What sort of arrogance and delusion was that? Have you lost your mind, too?”
He did not call her name again—was not even looking at her anymore. She held her breath—she wanted him to keep calling her name. She wanted him to reassure her in that wide-sky-sweet-breezes voice that everything was fine, that she did not need to be buffeted about by this chaotic confusion.
His gaze came back to her. Her heart leaped. But then he leered. “Ah, well, it was good while it lasted—you were the hot little strumpet I’d always suspected you would be. Of course, your breasts remain lacking, but your enthusiasm almost made up for it. My God, the way you swallowed my cock. Real whores couldn’t do it better.”
Her face burned. Her entire person burned.
“And yes, you were gullible, weren’t you?” He went on relentlessly, walking slowly toward her, his eyes harsh, his words harsher. “I’ve never liked you better than when you were that horny dimwit, your legs spread wider than Siberia, your fingers playing with your own titties, your—”
She slapped him so hard her entire arm hurt. But the pain was nothing compared to the annihilation in her heart.
“Get out!” she bellowed.
He raised a contemptuous brow. “This is my room, my dear Lady Hastings. Or do you not remember that you came here last night famished for cock and wouldn’t leave me alone until I’d fucked you well and good?”
Memories of the night before were like grit rubbed into an open wound. The trust she had for him, her utter openness of the heart, and all the hope she nourished for their future.
She walked out without another word.
The connecting door slammed. Hastings stared at it, unable to believe what he’d just become—again.
The man she’d always despised.
Had he not learned anything from the past few weeks? Had he not learned that lying because he couldn’t bear to be vulnerable never protected him from pain, but only walled him off from happiness?
He stood in place, breathing hard.
He’d told her that his history of being an ass toward her had been no one’s fault but his own, and it was true. But at times like this, so much of him still felt like the boy whose only resort was to hit back hard, because he was never going to make anyone understand anything except how viciously he could strike.
Because sometimes the appearance of strength was all that mattered.
But hadn’t he already promised himself that there would be no more lies, no more cowardice, and no more hiding his true sentiments behind mockery and derision? Hadn’t he promised himself that he would be a man worthy of her?
He pressed two fingers between his brows. He knew what he ought to do, but did he possess courage enough to see it through?
Helena sat before the vanity, her head in her hands. The connecting door opened. She leaped up from her chair. “What do you want?”
Hastings closed the door quietly. “I’m here to apologize.”
She almost didn’t hear his words. How did a man who’d looked so hateful only a minute ago transform into this specimen of humble contrition? “What for?”
His gaze was a blue green of unlimited depth. “For my false and unkind words. They were the absolute opposite of my true feelings. And I’m sorry I reverted to my worst habit when you least needed greater distress.”
Until he’d spoken, she’d had no idea how much she longed for him to tell her how sorry he was. But now she had his apology, she could not tell whether it brought relief or only a greater desolation. “So you are remorseful for giving in to my carnal demands?”
He shook his head. “No, I am only apologizing for speaking those words that would have you believe I didn’t treasure the privilege of making love to you.”
The gentleness of his voice, the infinite sincerity of his words—he was still praying for rain in the Sahara. His persistence moved her and infuriated her at the same time. “So you are glad you slept with me when I didn’t know any better?”
“Helena, you lost your memory, not your mind. You were perfectly capable of conducting your business and your life.”
She had certainly felt so, hadn’t she? Only to wake up from a dream of