“Because Athena is still very much a child in many ways, and has no experience with men. She is far too open-hearted, and Holt is—” He paused again, setting his jaw. “My sister is dependent upon me, and upon my judgment. Your ‘Wolf-Man’ is not fit company for a lady.”
So Munroe had discovered the nature of Morgan’s circus act. Doubtless that was also Miss Hockensmith’s doing.
“I am surprised you deigned to visit me,” Caitlin said, “for surely I’m no better company for so fine a gentleman as yourself. Will you tell your sister to avoid what you will not?”
He could have left then, and escaped her insulting questions entirely. But he lingered, staring about the tent as if it were filled with valuable and fascinating treasures rather than the flotsam and jetsam of circus life.
“I know the world as Athena does not,” he said. “She is the one thing in my life with which I will take no risks and no chances.”
“I see. And what did Morgan say to your kind request?”
His gaze jerked back to her. “He denies any interest in my sister.”
Liar. Either you or Morgan is a liar of the worst sort, because you’re lying to yourself. “Then you have nothing to worry about. I understand that Athena has promised to stay away from the ranch while we are there. You have arranged everything just as you want it.” She eased back on to the cot. “You had better not waste any more of your valuable time, Mr. Munroe.”
He swept his hat off the stool and sat down, straddling it with legs spread wide. “Is it not enough that we are giving you a place to stay for the winter, Miss Hughes? Have we not demonstrated our goodwill?”
“Troupers are not fond of unwilling charity.”
“It’s not unwilling, damn it—I beg your pardon.” He swiped his hand across his brow, further ruffling his hair. “You must understand that—”
“That charity is all right from such as you to the likes of us, but not friendship?”
He blew out a sigh. “Miss Hughes—Caitlin—”
“Only friends should call each other by their Christian names, Mr. Munroe.”
“What proof of friendship do you wish of me?” he roared.
She stared at him. He subsided into something like meekness. “I apologize. It is just that I—” His curse was not quite low enough to escape her notice. “I consider myself your friend… Caitlin. And I hope you will consider yourself mine.”
Well, well, well. “Indeed? That is generous of you… Niall.”
He didn’t balk at the familiarity, so she was compelled to grant his sincerity. Still, he was far too high-and-mighty for his own good.
“Since we have become such bosom friends,” she said, “you must explain to me why Athena and Morgan cannot be friends as well.”
“It is different—”
“Just how is it different? I have little education myself, no name or money. I’m no better than Morgan.”
He frowned. He brooded. He turned about on the stool so that he faced away from her, lost in his own thoughts. At last he seemed to reach a decision and met her gaze.
“My sister…” he began, “Athena is not like you. She has lost the kind of freedom you enjoy, and the ability to protect herself. She is vulnerable in body and in spirit. And she is that way because of me.”
“What do you mean, because of you?”
“She was in an accident.” He lowered his eyes, scuffing at the straw with the heels of his boots. “It happened in the mountains, during winter. We were at Long Park, and I—In those days, I had a tendency to be foolish. Reckless.” He sighed. “I got myself into trouble. Athena believed she could save me. She was caught in an avalanche that did severe damage to her legs. The doctor told us she would never walk again.”
Caitlin bit her lip. This man who spoke with such regret and shame was not the same whose arrogance had annoyed her and infuriated Morgan. She could scarcely believe that he had confided so much to her, of all people. Or was it because she was so different, so far outside the boundaries of his rarified circle, that she was a safe recipient for such a confession?