His smile, calculated to put her at ease, shattered her fragile self-control. Margo’s whole face crumpled, then she turned away from him, shutting him out once again. “Where are my clothes? I’m too naked. If you want to talk, let me get dressed.”
”Margo…”
She paused, holding the Parthian tunic in front of herself like a shield.
”What?”
”You’ve no idea how sad that makes me feel.”
Her brows dove together. “How sad what makes you feel?”
”That you can take your clothes off to sleep with a man, but you can’t talk to him afterward. That’s what love is all about. Touching and talking and caring.”
She opened her lips several times, but no sound came out. Then, bitterly, “Who made you the world’s expert, anyway? You’re a penniless bachelor! You.. . you are a bachelor, aren’t you?” she asked suddenly, hugging the tunic more tightly to her breasts.
He managed a smile. “Yes. I’m a bachelor, Margo. And I never claimed to be anyone’s expert on the subject. But I do think you ought to be at least friends with the people you sleep with. Otherwise, it’s the saddest thing in the world, groping after something you can’t define with a total stranger who probably can’t define it, either.”
”I know exactly what sex is!” She crouched in the sunlight, fingers dug into the earth, the folds of her tunic forgotten. “It’s getting drunk and thinking you’re having a good time, then waking up trapped and hurt and scared of everyone you thought you liked! It’s miserable and lonely and I’m sorry I ever laid eyes on you! Damn you, Malcolm Moore! You ruined my seventeenth birthday!”