“Not at all. Only, as I said before, I’m no longer in the mood to stay. Surely, I have the privilege of changing my mind?” Putting aside the tray, she thrust her bare arms behind her gleaming head. Her beauty was insolent. A flame of desire, of hatred, and of anguish, scorched him. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.
“You are cruel. I could almost hate you! Why do you want to torture me? Wasn’t last night enough?”
“Last night?”
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Yes, last night. When you refused to let me in I returned to my room and threw myself upon the bed and lay there all night. I went through hell. Unsatisfied, burning for you in every fiber of my body. All the old madness, the dread, the fear, came back upon me like a nightmare, and for a week, ever since I saw you last, I had dreamed of something so different.”
A gleam of pity crept into Anne’s eyes. She averted them quickly.
“You certainly did not expect me to receive you here with those people in the house?” she said less coldly. “I could not understand your coming to me that way. It offended me, Alexis.”
“If you really loved me, you never would have thought of that. You would have forgotten those others as quickly as I did. The moment I left them in their rooms I thought only of you, my Anne, my beautiful one. But even then I waited for what seemed like an eternity.” He flung himself upon his knees and buried his face in the coverlet.
“Oh, Anne, it never occurred to me that you would feel that way. You had already given yourself to me, dearest, and we had both so looked forward to being together in this house. Our love was so hemmed in, so incomplete in New York. This was to be our refuge, where we could enjoy a security almost as wonderful as if we were married.”
A smile twisted Anne’s lips into a downward curve. “It was very secure, wasn’t it?”
“Don’t be cruel. Last night was only an incident. It won’t occur again. Not a soul except Rosenfield knows where I am. He even forwards my mail.”