“He was someone special,” she repeated. Her eyes looked cold, and her jaws tightened. “I don’t think anyone will ever take his place.”
“Sounds like a distant memory.”
“Last summer. But it seems ages ago, when life was simple and I controlled my own destiny. He loved me; he couldn’t help it. After I saved his life, I felt a maternal, caring urge for him, a budding feeling that could grow into love.”
I stood up, buttoned and zipped my pants, and buckled my belt. Countess Vronsky’s candid glimpses inside her heart made her increasingly desirable and, paradoxically, less unattainable. Taking her in my arms, I blurted out the truth that would antagonize her into rejecting me: “You still love Vance Gamble.”
She slapped me hard across the face. “That’s none of you business.” Almost as an afte
