“That’s why he never wanted me around, avoided me and sent me away when he could. I came to believe he was right. It seemed everyone and everything in my world changed, grew away from me. Only Peter… stayed the same. He was all I had, and I was grateful.”
“Until the argument with your father,” he said, remembering.
With careful deliberation Alexandra disentangled herself from Kieran’s hold and walked with halting steps across the room.
“I told you my father came to my college graduation ceremony. I tried to talk to him. Too many feelings had built up for too long, and we argued. That was when he said—he told me—he hated the sight of me.”
Her buried grief was so intense that Kieran wondered how any being could bear it. All these years this had tormented her, a history far worse for being remembered than his forgotten past could possibly be.
Her back was rigid. “He was right. He was right to hate me. The argument in the car, the accident that killed my mother… they were my fault. And I didn’t keep my promise.”
“You were only a child!”
“All my father knew was that my mother was gone, and I was still here. After that day, I… didn’t want anything from my father. Not his money. I told him that. I thought Peter and I would marry and I could forget. But Peter—”
“Abandoned you because you wouldn’t take your father’s money any longer.”
She shook her head, but not in denial. “He was honest, at least. I should have given him credit for that.” She broke off, and her arms came up to hug herself, as if that were the only comfort she could ever expect. “I should have understood my father better. He lost so much, and I was only a reminder. I should have tried again. We were the only family left.”
Kieran began moving toward her, as delicately as a stalking hunter. “I’m sorry, Alexandra.”
Her head came up in a wild, sharp gesture. “I hated them both. And now they’re dead.” She turned to face him. “You think there’s something wrong with you. Look at me!” Her eyes were fever-bright, unnaturally dry. “Peter… Father… they were right. I’m something that shouldn’t exist.”
He wasted no more time but closed the space between them, capturing her again. “You’re wrong,” he said fiercely. And then, when she only stared at him, he moved his hands to cup her face. “Alexandra. Oh, Alexandra.”
She shuddered and closed her eyes. “Don’t,” she gasped.
He refused to accept her denial. She needed his touch, as he needed to touch her. He rested his thumb lightly on her cheekbone and stroked her skin with utmost gentleness.
Her eyes focused on his, filled with fear, wide with vulnerability. “My scar,” she whispered. “Please, don’t.”
Kieran studied her face. The skin under his palm was slightly rough, different in texture from her other cheek. He had never thought anything of it, because it was part of her. “I don’t understand.”
“The explosion,” she said harshly. “They couldn’t fix it all.” She tossed her head from one side to the other, trying to shake him loose. “It’s ugly. I’m ugly—”
He caught her face between his hands and pressed his lips to the roughened skin.
“You are beautiful, Alexandra. I never saw this scar.”
Her face grew stiff and cold. “Don’t lie to me, Kieran. Not you.” She stared at his chest, unseeing. “Do you know what Peter told me, the day we had the argument about my father’s money? He told me I was lucky to have him, that no other man would ever be able to overlook this.” She put her hand to her face, fingers curled. “The ugliness—it’s all… me…”
Kieran caught her hand and pulled it to her side, locked his arms around her and held her while she struggled like a frantic animal in a trap.
“Let me go! Damn you—” She nailed awkwardly, knocking her body against his. Gradually her movements weakened and slowed like a mechanical toy running down.
He smelled the tears before he heard the ragged change in her breathing. She tried to hold them back, leaning away from Kieran as if she could still escape.