Jade Star - Catherine Coulter [97]
“Nothing, not really. He pulled me into an alley.” Jules drew a deep breath. “I was frightened and we struggled. The gun went off by accident, Michael.”
“Such a short, almost boring tale,” he said. “Fortunate for your conscience that the man, Avery—not a bad fellow really, I imagine—won’t die because you’re a stubborn, witless little fool.”
As if drawn by a puppet’s string, her chin went up.
“Would you mind telling me why you were out alone?” He waved a hand toward the window. “It’s dark, and was almost dark when you were out there. Obviously you thought you’d lost Thackery.”
“Yes,” she said, “that’s what I thought.”
“I believe I asked you a question, Juliana.”
What could she tell him? When she really didn’t understand her own motives? “Wilkes,” she whispered, her eyes on the toes of her shoes.
“Wilkes? What the hell does he have to do with anything?” At her continued silence, he added in a mocking voice, “Have you changed your mind about him? Do you want to find him, give yourself over to him?”
“No!”
“No what? I would appreciate some specificity.”
“I was out . . . tracking him.”
He could only stare at her. “Tracking him,” he repeated. “If you managed to find him,” he continued after a moment, “you wanted to kill him?”
“Yes,” she said. “I’m tired of being a prisoner! I’m tired of being a helpless victim.”
“But you’re not tired of being a damned fool. Tracking Wilkes—dear God, I don’t believe this!”
“Why not? And I’m not a fool.” She saw that he was regarding her as if she had suddenly announced that she was going to jump into the bay. “At least,” she muttered, now more angry than numb, “he wanted me!”
Saint felt himself stiffen, his hands fisting at his sides. “What did you say?”
“Nothing, I didn’t mean that! It’s just that . . .”
“That what?” he asked when she faltered.
“I don’t know what to do!”
“Charming,” he observed. “So blatant stupidity is the answer. Your woman’s mind—well, I should have faced it sooner, shouldn’t I?”
“What do you mean my ‘woman’s mind’?”
“I was wrong to say that. Rather, it’s more the case that you’re still an ignorant child. Selfish, reckless, silly, and so uncaring of anyone else that—”
“I am not uncaring! I did not mean to hurt that man. And I am not a child. Ask Wilkes! He didn’t think so!”
They were going about in circles, he realized. Accomplishing nothing, Resolving nothing. But he simply felt too overwhelmed and too furious with her to continue. What he wanted was to thrash some sense into her.
Jules felt his eyes on her, brooding, questioning, grim now with determination.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, hating herself for her high, thin voice.
“I’m going to do something I should have done months ago,” he said, straightening to his full height. “Since there is no reasoning with you, since I can’t be certain you won’t continue to lie to me with great regularity, I shall just have to do something much more basic.”
He strode toward her.
“What?” she said, automatically backing away from him.
“Since there’s no one here, I don’t have to haul you upstairs,” he said more to himself than to her.
“Why do you want to ‘haul’ me?”
He didn’t answer her, merely grasped her wrist and pulled her against him. For a brief moment Jules believed he would comfort her, tell her that everything was all right, that he understood.
In the next moment he’d sat down in his chair and pulled her over his legs.
“No!” she yelled, twisting on his lap, trying desperately to lurch away from him.
She felt his hands pulling up her gown, jerking away her underthings. She felt the cool air on her bare bottom.
“Very nice,” Saint said, and slammed down his palm.
Jules yelled, and arched wildly. His hand came down again, harder this time. She felt pain, but her humiliation was greater, and she yelled all the bad names she could think of at him.
He laughed.
Saint lifted his hand to smack her bottom again,