her cases packed so that she and Nathan could leave.
Carolyn had prepared a tray of coffee during Brenna's absence—it had to be coffee, Nathan didn't drink tea!—as the three of them sat together in the lounge. Nathan looked very relaxed as he lounged in his chair, his jacket casually flung over the back of it, as if he had no intention of giving it up in case it got lost in the clutter that Carolyn surrounded herself with wherever she went. Brenna anxiously searched their faces, deciding that Nathan looked the most relaxed—and wondering what he had said or done to put that wary look in the eyes of the other couple. He returned her accusing look with bland indifference to her discomfort.
She said hasty goodbyes to Carolyn and Nick while Nathan put her luggage in the back of the sleek car he had hired, its smooth compact lines telling of its exclusive nameplate. She barely waited before they were down the lane and out on to the road before turning on him. ‘Well?’ she demanded.
He shot her a cursory glance before turning back to the road. ‘Well what?’ he drawled unhelpfully.
‘What did you say to them?’ Her eyes were narrowed suspiciously.
He shrugged. ‘We barely spoke while you were upstairs packing.'
‘What did you say to them?'
‘Calm down, Brenna,’ he advised impatiently.
‘I am calm,’ she ground out. ‘I just want to know what you said to upset my friends.'
‘They weren't upset.'
‘Nathan!'
He gave a weary sigh. ‘I merely expressed regret for breaking up your ménage à trois. That is the fashionable description for what you were doing, isn't it?’ he added harshly.
Strangely the insult made her feel like crying rather than shouting. That Nathan could think she had changed so much as to be involved in anything so distasteful! She had been a virgin when they made love, did he really think she could have become such a wanton in the last year?
‘Maybe I shouldn't have made love to you when I did.’ The same memories seemed to be going through his mind, making his expression grim. ‘If I hadn't maybe you wouldn't have felt free to experiment with other men.'
There had been no other men. She wasn't stupid, she knew that what she and Nathan had shared that last night in Canada had been unique, unmatchable with any other man. She knew that just as surely as she recognised that, for her own sanity, it could never be repeated. Never, she vowed with a shudder. It had taken her months to accept that she and Nathan had made love. And she wasn't going to let herself fall into the same trap her mother and Lesli had.
‘Brenna?'
She flinched as he would have touched her, moving as far away from him as she could.
‘What the hell!’ Nathan's face darkened like a thunder-cloud as he turned to look at her. ‘Brenna, what is it?’ He frowned at how pale she had become.
‘What is it?’ she repeated haltingly, still very disturbed. ‘It isn't every day I'm accused of being a whore!'
‘I never called you that!’ he rasped.
‘As good as.’ She flushed in her anger.
He gave a deep, ragged sigh. ‘Okay, what was your relationship to those two?'
‘I told you, Carolyn writes the books, and I illustrate them.'
‘And Nick Bancroft?'
‘Shares Carolyn's room,’ she told him resentfully. ‘The two of them go everywhere together.'
‘That wasn't the impression I got,’ Nathan bit out contemptuously.
‘Appearances can be deceptive.’ Although Carolyn had been very sexually active before meeting and falling in love with Nick, to her knowledge, for all her friend's talk, Carolyn had been faithful to him since they first fell in love. The habit of flirting with every man she met was obviously a hard one for Carolyn to break. ‘Carolyn writes children's books, not sex manuals!'
‘Okay,’ Nathan sighed. ‘If I was wrong, I'm sorry.'
The words were so quietly spoken Brenna couldn't help wondering if she had imagined them; Nathan never apologised for anything, none of the Wade men did. But this time Nathan had, she could tell that by the angry set of his mouth, the stiff way he sat behind the wheel of the car, as if he deeply resented having to apologise. And Brenna was sure that he did.
She neither accepted nor denied the apology, turning so that she was looking out of the side window, her face stiffly averted all the way back to London.
It was late afternoon by the time they reached London and the top floor of the Victorian building which Brenna occupied, one of the rooms having been converted into a studio for her, the light up there being excellent for her work. She had lived in the flat only a year, moving from the one she had shared with two other girls through college, so that Nathan shouldn't find her if he came looking. It seemed she could have saved herself the trouble, she thought ruefully; Nathan didn't give a damn about reading other people's personal mail to obtain what he wanted.
He carried her two suitcases up the six flights of stairs, putting them down outside her door while Brenna searched for her key in her bag.
She turned to him. ‘If you tell me the name of your hotel I'll call you if I hear from Lesli—–'
‘I booked out of my hotel this morning.’ Nathan took the key out of her hand and deftly turned it in the lock. ‘If Lesli calls or comes here, I'll be waiting for her.’ He gently urged Brenna inside the flat before he followed with the two suitcases.
‘Here?’ Brenna finally managed to gasp. ‘You mean here?’ She came to an abrupt halt just inside the lounge when she saw the brown suitcase standing in the middle of the room. ‘Yours?’ she squeaked at Nathan.
His mouth quirked. ‘When I explained to your landlady that I'm your brother, and flashed Lesli's and Grant's wedding photograph at her with the four of us standing together, she was kind enough to unlock your door and let me leave my case here. So you see, Brenna, I'm here for the duration.'
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