time, if she didn’t cut and run first. Or don’t you remember what a hell of a mean temper her father had when he drank? Of course, you can control yours, most of the time, but that child is carrying deep scars. A man like you is the last thing she needs!”
As if he hadn’t realized that already, he thought furiously. Elissa was gone, and he felt sick, and here was Margaret, giving him hell. He glared at his housekeeper with black frustration.
“And where’s your hat?” she demanded.
“At the airport,” he retorted. “Catching mice.”
“Your hat probably could,” she muttered. “It would have to be pretty damned mean to sit on you!”
He sat down with a cup of black coffee, which he wished were whiskey. He felt empty and hollow and cold. Bess was still upstairs, and he thought about what Margaret had said. Perhaps Bess was afraid of his temper, he thought idly. But Elissa wasn’t, he recalled with a faint smile. She was more than equal to his angry outbursts, most of the time. She was equal to him in other ways, too. He closed his eyes and saw her, felt her, as she was that night, her body lifting to his, her eyes wild and passionate, moaning as he held her to him, crying out his name in aching fulfillment.
He got up, his body on fire. Bess paused at the doorway, hesitating. He glanced at her. She was blonde and beautiful, but when he looked at her, he saw only Elissa’s laughing blue eyes and black hair.
“Well?” he asked curtly.
She hesitated. “Are you angry with me?” she asked.
The harshness left his face. She was a child, after all, in so many ways. He went to her, taking her gently by the shoulders, smiling.
“No, of course I’m not,” he said gently. “I couldn’t stop Elissa. She thinks I’m out of my mind over you and that you’re leaving Bobby to marry me. I couldn’t make her listen, and I’m frustrated, that’s all.”
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asked, searching his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was so lonely. And you took me places and talked to me and even listened,” she added with a wistful smile. “I guess I got drunk on attention. But I’m sorry if I’ve messed up your life.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll sort it all out somehow,” he said.
She stared at his shirtfront. “Elissa loves you, doesn’t she?”
“I thought she did,” he replied quietly. “Now I’m not sure.”
She looked up again, smiling at him. “I liked her. She isn’t the least bit afraid of you. She bites back.”
He laughed. “Yes. She gives as good as she gets. That’s one of the things I like best about her.” He searched her face. “Do you really want a divorce?”
She sighed. “No,” she said finally. “I love the stupid man to distraction. If only he’d wake up and realize that I never married him for money. I wanted him—I still do—and he’s too busy making money to notice.”
“Then why,” he asked slowly, “don’t you tell him?”
She blinked. “Tell him...that?”
“Of course.”
She shifted restlessly. “Well...”
“Chicken,” he taunted, his dark eyes sparkling.
She burst out laughing. “All right. Why not? Things can’t get any worse, can they?”
He took her arm. “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” he muttered. He was still wondering how to deal with Elissa’s defection. She’d tried to reduce what they did together to something sordid and wrong, and he wished he’d gone about things in a more conventional way. He should have picked her up and carried her off to a minister. Now she was determined not to care about him anymore, was determined to put him out of her life. Did she still think he wanted Bess? How could she be so crazy?
He followed Bess out the door, frowning fiercely. He’d have to give her some time to cool off, to figure out that they couldn’t live without each other, that they needed each other. And knowing Elissa, she’d have to come to those conclusions her own way in her own sweet time.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ELISSA DIDN’T GO home to her parents. She wasn’t quite ready to face them just yet. Instead, she boarded the next flight to Jamaica. Since King was going to be busy with Bess now, it looked like the best time to tie up a few loose ends.
She went to his villa first and got Warchief, then left without a backward glance. She wasn’t ever going to see the villa again. She’d made plans.