“The horse was a stallion. I’ve warned him not to try to ride it,” he told her.
“But it was because I told him I wanted a divorce,” Bess burst out, and Elissa felt her blood run cold. “Oh, Kingston, I can’t go on living with a man who doesn’t love me anymore. It’s so much worse now, and when I’m with you—”
Elissa knocked abruptly on the door; she couldn’t bear to hear any more, and it would look as if she were eavesdropping if she waited any longer. They both jerked around, looking stunned by her unexpected appearance.
“How are you feeling?” she asked Bess, schooling her voice and face to show nothing but polite interest and friendliness.
Bess moved restlessly and pulled her hand from King’s. “Oh, I—I’m feeling much better, thank you,” she stammered. Her face colored. “I’d forgotten you were staying here.”
“Under the circumstances, that’s quite understandable,” Elissa said gently, forcing a smile. “I’m sorry about Bobby, but I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“They’ll let him go home in a few days, they said.” Bess sighed, then grimaced. “Back to his papers and business calls. He was already raving because they wouldn’t let him have a telephone.”
Elissa hesitated, unable to look at King. “Well, take care. I’ll say good-night.”
She went out, feeling her heart breaking inside, and stiffened when she heard King murmur something to Bess and follow her. She stood in front of her door, waiting for him, her back carefully straight.
“I’m glad she’s going to be all right,” she said, smiling, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. It was just as she’d predicted when she’d said back in Florida that she wouldn’t marry him. She’d said that Bess might be free one day, and now it was going to happen. Elissa had represented an urge he couldn’t control, but now she was an embarrassment, an obstacle. She stared down at the ring on her finger and knew how he felt and what he was thinking. If only he’d waited a few hours...
“She wasn’t hurt,” he said curtly. “Just upset. But I had to go to her.”
Her, not his brother. She noticed the wording even if he didn’t. “Of course.”
He hesitated, which was unusual. “Elissa...”
She turned, forcing a smile. “Yes?”
“About last night...” he began slowly.
“Oh, yes. Last night.” She pulled off the emerald ring and, taking one of his hands, pressed it into the palm. She stared at his closed fingers, feeling their strength and warmth and remembering all too well how they felt on her bare skin. She closed her eyes and wanted to die of the shame. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
He took a sharp breath. What did she mean, what he wanted? For God’s sake, they’d made love. She’d told him she loved him. They were going to be married. So he’d brought Bess home—what else could he do? Surely, after what they’d shared the night before, Elissa didn’t think he was still struggling with a hopeless passion for his sister-in-law?
“What I wanted?” he shot at her angrily. “Did I ask for the damned ring back?”
“Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” she returned, staring at him accusingly. “I heard what Bess said, King,” she confessed. “About divorcing Bobby. And maybe it’s for the best. If they can’t get along, and the two of you are... Well, I’m sure it will all work out,” she added, lowering her eyes to his broad chest. The first few buttons were open, and involuntarily she wondered if Bess enjoyed touching him there as much as she did.
She turned away. She was about to burst into tears, and that would never do.
He stared at her as if she’d lost her senses. She’d agreed to marry him, and now she was backing out. Of course, he’d thought he wanted Bess, and now Bess was talking divorce. The obstacles to their union would be removed. And yes, he’d once thought he wanted that. But not now. Not anymore. He wanted Elissa, desperately, and here she was, throwing his ring back in his face. He felt suddenly, unreasonably angry.
“And what about you?” he demanded, hands on his hips.
Her chin lifted as she opened the door to her room. “What about me?” she asked curtly.
“You could be pregnant,” he said bluntly. He sounded as if he wanted to throw things, starting with her.
“If I am, it’s my problem, not yours.”
“To hell with that!” he burst out. “It’s my problem, as well, and don’t you forget it.”