LITMIR.BIZ

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sighed and sipped her wine. The silence between them was companionable, but she felt compelled to say something about the way she’d absconded from her own wedding.

      “I guess I owe you an explanation,” she started, turning to face Raif, who stared out into the darkness beside her.

      * * *

      “Nope.”

      Raif had no need to know what had finally brought Shanal to her senses and sent her flying from the cathedral this morning. And frankly, the less time they spent talking about her would-be groom, the better Raif would feel.

      “But I—”

      “Look,” he interrupted. “Burton Rogers and I might have been at school together. We might even have resembled friends once upon a time, but we’re not now. To be honest, I’ve wondered more about your reasons for agreeing to marry him than I have about your reasons for running away. You don’t need to explain a thing.”

      Shanal sat up a bit straighter in her chair. “You really don’t like him, do you?”

      “Don’t like him, don’t trust him.”

      “That’s what you tried to talk to me about, back when we announced our engagement, wasn’t it?”

      He drained his glass. “Another?” he asked, standing up and putting out his empty hand.

      “No, thanks, I’m okay. In fact, I think that glass has completely gone to my head. I was too nervous to eat this morning and—”

      “I’ll go warm up dinner. Mac left us a chicken casserole in the refrigerator. We’ll have to cook our own meals from tomorrow.”

      He went inside before Shanal could realize he’d completely avoided answering her question. But he hadn’t counted on her dogged determination to see things to an end. He should have known better. It was what made her a good research scientist, but not necessarily good company right now.

      “What was it that you didn’t say to me at the time, Raif? Why do you dislike him so much?”

      “It doesn’t matter now.”

      “I’d like to know.”

      He set the microwave to reheat and popped the covered casserole dish inside before straightening to face her.

      “He killed Laurel,” he said simply.

Four

      “Raif, that’s not true! You know he was cleared of any responsibility in that accident,” Shanal cried in response, her smooth brow creasing in disbelief.

      “I figured you’d say that. That’s why I didn’t want to say it to you then, or now.”

      He turned away and hunted out cutlery and place mats for their meal, then walked past her to set the table.

      “You still cold?” he asked, reaching for the switch to turn on the gas heater.

      “I’m fine. What do you mean, you figured I’d say that?”

      She had a bit more color in her cheeks right now than she’d had all day. Obviously she thrived on conflict and argument more than he’d realized.

      “You were engaged to the man. Obviously you’d take his side. And let’s face it—we’ve always been at loggerheads with one another, haven’t we? You’re hardly likely to believe what I say.”

      Raif crossed his arms in front of him and stood with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, daring her to contradict his last statement. As he watched her, she lost that air of bravado that had driven her to confront him just now. Her shoulders sagged and she seemed to shrink inside herself.

      “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said softly, before lifting her eyes to meet his again. “And yet, despite your opinion of me and my choices, you were the only one who came to help me today.”

      How did he tell her that he hadn’t done it for her as much as he’d done it to defy Burton? Hell, hadn’t Raif vowed after Laurel’s death that he’d do whatever it took to prevent Burton from hurting another woman, especially one he—?

      Raif slammed the door on that thought before it could take wing, and busied himself with finding condiments to put on the table, and throwing the packaged salad he found in the refrigerator into a bowl.

      Without actually saying in so many words that he believed the other man was a murderer, he’d tried his hardest to convince Shanal to question her reasons for marrying him. But she’d been adamant. Right up until that crucial moment this morning.

      “Raif?” Shanal’s voice gently prodded him to respond.

      “You were upset and wanted to get away. I was there and I had the means to help you—what else could I have done? I wasn’t going to just stand aside and let you be turned into a freak show.”

      “No, I guess that’s bound to come when I return home again.”

      “It doesn’t have to. You can make a statement to the media and request privacy.” He issued a bitter laugh. “Or you could not go home at all.”

      She shook her head. “It’s not quite that simple.”

      “It can be, if you want it to be.”

      She averted her gaze, but not before he saw raw grief reflected in her eyes. There was more to this than she was letting on, he just knew it. But how to get it out of her? That was the question.

      “Anyway,” he continued, “I’m not in a hurry to head back, are you?”

      A shudder racked her body. “No.”

      “Then let’s not borrow trouble.”

      The microwave pinged and Raif retrieved the casserole and put it on the table.

      “Come on. Take a seat and have some food.”

      He lifted the lid of the dish and the delicate aroma of apricot chicken filled the air. Raif ladled a generous portion onto a plate and put it in front of her.

      “Help yourself to salad,” he instructed, before serving himself.

      They ate in silence, Shanal putting away more food than he thought she would, given the circumstances and how tightly she was wound. Halfway through the meal he retrieved their wineglasses and poured them each another serving.

      “Trying to help me drown my sorrows?” she asked with a humorless smile.

      “Are you sad?” he returned pointedly.

      She held his gaze, her determined chin lifting a little, as if in defiance. “Not sad, exactly.”

      And then her eyes grew shuttered again. She gathered up her plate and cutlery.

      “Leave that,” Raif instructed. “I’ll take care of it.”

      “I’m not a fragile ornament about to shatter apart,” Shanal protested as he took the things from her and stacked them in the dishwasher.

      “Go, get an early night, and then maybe you’ll look less like one,” he said firmly, even a little harshly.

      There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, which made him realize he’d gone too far. But then he saw her spine stiffen, and a bit of the fire she’d shown earlier returned.

      “Fine, then. Since you put it so nicely. I’ll go to bed. Did you have a preference as to which room you want to use?”

      “I put the bag of clothes in the end room for you. It’s the biggest.”

      “But won’t you need clothes now, too?”

      “We can stop somewhere along the river and I’ll get a few extra things. But I don’t need anything else for tonight.”

      He

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