Page 57 of Irish Rose
She kept her seat and, just barely, her temper, but her eyes narrowed. “Oh, I see. So this is one more thing I’m not to touch.”
Pausing only a moment, Burke studied her. He could see the temper beginning to brew. As far as he was concerned, she was better off angry than dealing with the tempest of the next few days. He’d never considered himself a man of great virtues, but he’d protect his wife.
“You can look at it that way or any other way you like. I’ve got some calls to make. Pack your things while I see that your flight’s changed.”
“Just one bloody minute.” She was up and after him again as he walked into the next room. “I’m sick to death of orders from you. Almost as sick as I am of talking to your back. If you don’t put down that phone, Burke Logan, it’ll pleasure me to wrap the cord around your neck.”
“Erin, I’ve got enough to deal with at the moment without you adding one of your tantrums.”
“Tantrums.” Her hands clenched into fists as she walked toward him. “Oh, I’ve a flash for you, I do. You haven’t seen a tantrum yet. Now sit.” Taking both hands, she shoved him into a chair. “And it’s time you unplugged your ears and listened for a change.”
He could have risen again and struck back with his own temper. He decided against it, in the same way he might have decided to bluff his way to a pot with a pair of deuces. The quickest way to have her out and on her way was to show disinterest. “Is this going to take long?”
“As long as needs be.”
“Then would you mind if I had a drink?”
Seething, she went behind the bar and grabbed a bottle and a glass. She slammed them down on the table beside him. “Go ahead, have the whole bottle. Drown yourself in it.”
“Just one’ll do.” He poured two fingers, then lifted the glass in a half salute. “Say what’s on your mind, Irish. I have a few things to see to before your flight.”
“If I said half what was on it, your ears would be ringing from now till Gabriel blew his horn. Answer me this, are you going to take this business lying down?”
He lifted the glass and sipped, watching her steadily over the rim. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re going to fight, and I think you won’t be resting until you find out who’s behind this. Then I think you’re going to carve them up in little pieces.”
He toasted her again, then downed the rest of the whiskey. “That about covers it.”
“And I’m not going home to twiddle my thumbs while you’re about it.”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I could help?”
“I don’t want your help or need it, Erin.”
“No, you don’t need anyone.” She swung away to pace the room, wishing she knew a better way than shouting to handle an argument. “All you need are a few paid servants to deal with the little details while you go on your merry way. You certainly don’t need a wife, a partner, to tend to your shirts or hold your hand when there’s trouble.”
The urge to get up, to hold on to her, was so strong he had to press his fingers into the glass until his knuckles whitened. Because she was wrong. She was very, very wrong about what and whom he needed. “I didn’t marry you to do my laundry.”
“No, you married me to sleep with, and I know it well enough. But you got more than you bargained for, because I’m not running back home like some weakhearted, whiny female who can’t face a spot of trouble.”
Pride, he thought, and nearly laughed. It always seemed to be his pride or hers on the line. “No one’s insulting your valor, Erin. It would simply make things easier if I didn’t have you to deal with.”
“You won’t have to deal with me. In private I’ll stay out of your way and you can do your business however you please. But in public I’m going to be there.”
“The loyal and trusting wife?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing.” He sat back, determined to study her calmly. She looked like a comet about to go into orbit. “It matters to you what these people think, what they say?”
“And why shouldn’t it?”
Why shouldn’t it indeed? he thought as he stared into his empty glass. She was worried about her position, and hers walked hand in glove with his own. “Have it your way, then. I can hardly drag you to a plane and tie you on. But I warn you, it won’t be pretty.”
“You’ve said you understand me, almost from the first moment we met you said it, and I believed you. Now I see that you really don’t understand me at all.” There was no more anger. It had been smothered by a rising despair. If they’d really been married, in the true sense, they would have been able to talk about what had happened, they would have been able to fight together, rage together instead of at each other. “You can make your calls, I’m going for a walk.”
