Megan's mate

He carried her in, past the bird, who squawked greetings, and up the stairs. Megan was ready to babble in shock by the time he dumped her in a chair in the bedroom. Without a word, he turned away to rummage through his dresser drawers.

Get out of those wet clothes,

he ordered, tossing her a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

I'm going to go down and make you some tea.

Nathaniel—

Just do it!

he shouted, gritting his teeth.

Just do it,

he repeated quietly, and shut

the door.

He didn't slam it; nor, when he was down in the kitchen, did he put his fist through a wall. He thought about it. But instead, he put on the kettle, got out the brandy. After a moment's consideration, he took a pull of the fiery liquid, straight from the bottle.

It didn't calm him very much, but it took the e.g. off his sense of self-disgust.

When he heard Bird whistle and invite Megan to come to the Casbah, he set her spiked tea on the table.

She was pale, he noted, and her eyes were too big. So were the sweats. He nearly smiled at the picture she made, hesitating in the doorway, with the shirt drooping off her shoulders and the pants bagging at her ankles.

Sit down and have something to drink. You'll feel better.

I'm all right, really.

But she sat, and lifted the mug in both hands, because they tended to shake. The first sip had her sucking in her breath.

I thought this was tea.

It is. I just gave it a little help.

He sat across from her, waited until she sipped again.

Did he hurt you?

She stared down at the table. The wood was polished so brightly she could see her own face in it.

Yes.

She said it calmly. She thought she was calm, until Nathaniel put his hand over hers.

Her breath hitched once, twice, and then she put her head on the table and wept.

So much washed out with the tears the hopes she'd once had, the dreams, the betrayal and the disillusionment, the fears and the bitterness. He didn't try to stop her, only waited it out.

I'm sorry.

She let her cheek rest against the table a moment, comforted by the cool, smooth feel of the wood on her skin and Nathaniel's hand on her hair.

It all

seemed to happen so fast, and I wasn't prepared.

She straightened, started to wipe

the tears away, when a new fear glazed her eyes.

Kevin. Oh, God,ifBax—

Holt will take care of Kevin. Dumont won't get near him.

You're right.

She gave a shuddering sigh.

Of course, you're right. Holt would see to Suzanna and all the children right away. And all Baxter wanted to do in any case was frighten me.

Did he?

Her eyes were still wet, but they were steady.

No. He hurt me, and he infuriated me,

and he made me sick that I'd ever let him touch me. But he didn't frighten me. He can't.

Attagirl.

She sniffled, smiled weakly.

But I frightened him. That's why he came here today, after all this time. Because he's frightened.

Of what?

Of the past, the consequences.

She drew another, deeper breath and smelted Nathaniel tobacco and salt spray. How oddly comforting it was.

He thinks our

coming here is some sort of plot against him. He's been keeping track of me all this time. I didn't know.

He's never contacted you until today?

No, never. I suppose he felt safe when I was in Oklahoma and hadn't any connection with Suzanna. Now, not only is there a connection, but I'm living here.

And Kevin and Alex and Jenny... Well, he doesn't seem to understand it has nothing to do with him.

She picked up her tea again. Nathaniel hadn't asked anything, he'd simply sat and held her hand. Perhaps that was why she felt compelled to tell him.

I met him in New York. I was seventeen, and it was my first real trip away from home. It was during the winter break, and several of us went. One of my friends had relatives there. I guess you've been to New York.

A time or two.

I'd never experienced anything like it. The people, the buildings. The city was so exciting, and so unlike the West. Everything crowded in and colorful. I loved it rushing along Fifth Avenue, having coffee in some hole-in-the wall in Greenwich Village. Gawking. It sounds silly.

No, it sounds normal.

I guess it was,

she said with a sigh.

Everything was normal, and simple, before...

It was at this party, and he looked so handsome and romantic, I suppose. A young girl's dream, with those movie-star looks and that sheen of sophistication. And he was older just enough older to be fascinating. He'd been to Europe.

She stopped

herself, squeezed her eyes shut.

Oh, God, how pathetic.

You know you don't have to do this now, Meg.

No, I think I do.

Steadying herself, she opened her eyes again.

If you can stand

listening to it.

I'm not going anywhere.

He gave her hand a comforting squeeze.

Go ahead, then,

get rid of it.

He said all the right things, made all the right moves. He sent a dozen roses the next day, and an invitation to dinner.