Free Rebel by Heather Graham Page B

to go back and talk to my father, and you should be quite worried about doing the same. Not that men aren’t given every license in the world to behave like absolute animals, but since this has all occurred at your father’s house, he just might be rather perturbed about the whole thing.”
    “My father will understand what occurred from myend; he is a concern, naturally, but not my main concern at this time.”
    “Boys will be boys, right? Your father certainly can’t be angry with a man acting like a man!” she muttered heatedly. “Well, this might surprise you, but my father is a rational human being who loves me—”
    “Indeed, he loves you. And there, Miss McMann, may lie the real depths of our problem.”
    “We haven’t a problem, Mr. McKenzie. I’m quite sure that the ever-lovely Mrs. Trehorn will quickly forgive you this transgression, and you will find yourself cheerfully sleeping with the widow once again. As to me, I’m rumored to be a witch, so the fact that I apparently indulge in the sins of the flesh now and then will be no greater detriment to my life than anything else I have already faced. Now, if—”
    “So that’s it!” Ian murmured.
    “What is what?” Alaina cried with frustration.
    Those blue eyes struck her hard, seemed to impale her. “He promised to marry you. But his family didn’t deem you good enough.”
    She had simply been humiliated enough.
    “The next time I hear you described as a gentleman, I believe that I will… throw up!” she exclaimed vehemently. “now, if you please—”
    “I do not please. You have compromised me.”
    “What?” she all but shrieked. “I compromised you? Don’t be absurd—men are allowed to … to dally with …” She felt as if she were choking again. “Men are
expected
to seek out the company of… fallen women!”
    “This is an incredibly delicate situation,” he said.
    Again she felt the pressure of his gaze, eyes sweeping over her, something very hard, calculating, and still furious within them.
    “There is no situation,” she assured him. But his cobalt eyes remained dark and compelling as he stared at her.
    “Miss McMann, how do I put this delicately…”
    “Why bother to be delicate about anything at this point?”
    “Indeed,” he said, eyes flicking in a cool assessment over the length of her once again. Then they fell uponhers and sharply narrowed. He demanded bluntly, “You’re not expecting Peter O’Neill’s child, are you?”
    She couldn’t have been more stunned if he’d slapped her across the face. For a moment she couldn’t reply.
    Her silence seemed to convince him he had guessed correctly. “Ah, poor girl. Dear God, was that why you were trying to… kill yourself?”
    She felt as if she were strangling again. The temptation to lash out at him was more than she could control. She tried, really tried, to gouge his cheeks with her nails, but he was far too fast for her, catching her wrist with a pressure that brought a cry to her lips. “No, damn you, I am not expecting Peter O’Neill’s child, and I did not attempt to kill myself. I would never attempt to kill myself, especially over a despicable man!”
    “Are you quite certain?”
    “Are you daft? Indeed, if I ever do try to kill myself, I’m quite certain I will know.”
    Pure annoyance swiftly crossed his features. “I meant about O’Neill’s child.”
    “I have never been more certain about anything in my life!” she cried out furiously. “Not that it’s any of your concern!”
    He suddenly released her wrist. Arms crossed over his chest, he paced in front of the log.
    A feeling of deep unease crept through her. If she tried to rise and run past him, he wouldn’t let her leave.
    “I really have to go!” Alaina informed him, fighting the nervousness in her voice and attempting a strict-sounding authority. “You know, I will prosecute you if you continue to force me to stay here. Brute strength is not the way to solve