Free Tempest in Eden by Sandra Brown Page A

didn't want to, pastor." She lurched to her feet. "Whether you admit it or not, you were kissing me." She stopped to swallow and shuddered with nausea.
    The room was spinning around her. Ian's blue eyes were hard with accusation as he glared down at her. "Your hands were all over me. You kissed—" She tried again to tell him in no uncertain terms just what she thought of him, but nausea rose in a sickening wave. It seemed to take forever for her to reach the bathroom and slam the door behind her.

    Pale and weak, she made her way downstairs. Her knees threatened to buckle at any moment. Though arrows of pain were still shooting between her temples, her head felt light and woozy. She had no idea what to expect when she arrived in the kitchen. The uproar in Ian's room had gone on for several minutes after she'd fled for the bathroom. When it had finally quieted, her mother had knocked on the door.
    "Do you need any help, Shay?" she'd asked.
    "No."
    Celia had taken her at her word. After washing her face in cool water, brushing her teeth, and pulling her hair back with a barrette, Shay had gone to her room to dress. She had heard the other room being vacated as one by one everyone went downstairs.
    In the light of day, with her brain not influenced by alcohol, she admitted that her behavior had been utterly childish and inappropriate, and she didn't blame Ian in the least for being furious. He was a minister, after all, and though nothing had happened—not much anyway—he had to live above reproach. His reputation mustn't be tainted in the slightest degree. It was obvious from everything he said and did, by the way he conducted himself, that he was dedicated to his work. What right had she to tamper with his life?
    In addition, she suspected that his pride had suffered as much as his conscience. He had been a victim of circumstance, therefore not wholly accountable. But he was also a man who, she guessed, would want to be in charge of any situation, especially those involving women. She'd deprived him of that advantage, and that as much as anything had probably fired his temper.
    It was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do to push open the door to the kitchen. But she swallowed her last ounce of pride and went through. The hushed conversation ceased abruptly. The atmosphere was thick with tension. More than anything, she regretted having ruined this weekend for her mother and stepfather.
    In the heavy silence she crossed to the coffee pot on the stove. Her hand wasn't quite steady, but she managed to half-fill a mug. She took a tentative sip. After one more she turned to face them.
    "I'm sorry. I created a ruckus, and I'm sorry." John wouldn't quite meet her eyes when she addressed him. "I want to apologize for ruining an otherwise delightful weekend." They never need know she'd had a miserable time. "Mom, I'm sorry to have embarrassed you in front of your new family." Looking at a point somewhere off Ian's right shoulder, she said, "It's not her fault that I behaved so badly. All my life she's been trying to make me a lady of some discretion. It's not her failure, but my own."
    "Shay, dear." Her mother jumped to her feet and embraced her. "I love you just the way you are. Don't ever feel you have to apologize for who you are. It's just that sometimes you act rashly and irresponsibly."
    "Yes, I do."
    She patted her mother's hand and urged her to sit back down at the table. "Reverend Douglas, Ian, I had too much wine after you went up to bed. What seemed like a fantastic practical joke last night…"
    Her voice trailed off lamely, and for the first time she looked fully at him. She was shocked to see neither censure on his face nor anger. Nothing really, except a faint light glowing in his blue eyes. What it meant she didn't know.
    "I overreacted and behaved badly," he said tersely. "What happened last night was your fault. What happened this morning was mine," he added in a softer tone. "I kissed you while I was dreaming.