The Unquiet - J. D. Robb [126]
Would she never learn? Was she doomed to repeat the same mistake over and over?
SEVEN
“You’re awfully quiet, Mrs. Kerr.” Gwynn studied Bree’s pale face. “You’ve been working too hard. Why don’t you take some time for yourself now?”
Though it galled her to admit defeat, Bree nodded. “Thank you, Gwynn. It’s been a long day.” She glanced down at the dust that stained her work clothes. “Maybe I’ll go back to the cottage and change.”
The housekeeper hurried away and returned minutes later with a brown paper bag. “I baked a loaf of my special bread.”
Bree inhaled the wonderful fragrance of citrus. “Mm, that smells wonderful.”
“Orange and walnut. Have a bit of it with some tea, Mrs. Kerr. It will revive your energy. My mum used to say ’tis as restorative as a nap.”
“Thank you, Gwynn.” Bree turned away and let herself out.
By the time she arrived back at the cottage, she’d worked herself into a frenzy of self-doubt and self-loathing. Jamie would expect her to fall into his arms and welcome the passion he would offer. She had no way of knowing how he would react when he discovered that she’d learned about his past and wanted nothing more to do with him.
As she opened the front door, she steeled herself for the coming confrontation.
A deceptively cozy fire burned on the hearth. From the small kitchen came the wonderful aroma of something simmering on the stove.
Bree crossed the room and lifted the lid on an ancient castiron pot to reveal a hearty beef-vegetable soup, like the one Gwynn had been preparing in the manor house for the workers. Hadn’t the older woman remarked that she suspected someone of helping themselves to the soup? Apparently that someone had been Jamie. But why? He didn’t eat.
Or had that been a lie as well?
“Here you are.” He appeared beside her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “I saw the way you were working, and knew you’d be hungry.”
“You stole Gwynn’s soup.”
His eyes danced with mischief. “In a manner of speaking, though it’s actually my property, since I’m laird of the manor.” He glanced at the loaf in her hand. “The old biddy’s orange walnut bread?” He put a hand to his heart. “She only bakes it for special occasions. Is today your birthday?”
Bree forced herself to meet his steady look. “Not really. But you could call it my growing-up day.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” As he spoke he steered her toward the table. “Sit and talk to me while I feed you.”
“I can feed myself.”
“Humor me.”
He turned away and ladled soup into a bowl before opening the bag and cutting several thick slices of bread. He carried it to the table and set it in front of Bree.
Her hunger got the best of her, and though she’d intended to confront him immediately, she decided to wait until she was well fortified with food.
She couldn’t help sighing over the wonderful taste of it. This simple meal of soup and bread was finer than some of the meals she’d enjoyed in five-star restaurants.
Jamie sat across from her and watched, as always, with an intensity that was unsettling.
She set aside her spoon. “Why don’t you have some?”
He shrugged. “I’ve told you.”
“You said that you can’t enjoy the things of this world. What would you call the things we shared last night?”
His smile was quick and charming. “I’d call it heavenly. What would you call it, my beautiful Brianna?”
“ A lie.” She shoved aside the rest of her meal, feeling strong enough now to face the coming storm. “It was all a lovely lie, just so you could indulge your own selfish needs.”
His expression never changed. And yet, she saw something flicker in his eyes. Not anger so much as sadness. “You’re afraid, are you? And feeling betrayed?”
“Do I have a right to?”
He shook his head. “I will never betray you, Brianna.”
She looked away. “Don’t. I’ve heard it all before.”
“But not from me.”
“Why should you be any different? All men are the same. Promise whatever you need to in order to get what you want.” Before he could respond, she held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t try filling my head with your lies. I saw your