Gift of Fire

stalked into the bathroom.
    “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jonas, you didn’t really leave him there, did you?” But she knew Jonas well enough by now to guess the truth. Verity gingerly made her way to the window and looked down into the gloomy courtyard. There was just enough light seeping from the windows in the south wing to show a dark form sprawled in the empty fountain. “Jonas, I think it’s starting to rain.”
    “So what?” He turned on the water in the old-fashioned bathroom sink.
    “What do you mean, so what? You’ve left Slade out there and it’s near freezing. Now it’s raining. He’s liable to catch pneumonia.”
    “I don’t give a damn what happens to him. With any luck he’ll drown.” Jonas came out of the bathroom drying his hands on a towel. His shirt hung open, revealing the dark hair on his chest. His Florentine gold eyes still glittered with masculine outrage. “I’ve about had it, Verity. This is the second time in the past week I’ve walked in and found some man climbing all over you.”
    “Now, Jonas, you’re overstating the case and you know it.” Verity tried to adopt a soothing tone. There were times when it didn’t pay to go toe-to-toe with Jonas Quarrel. She clutched the lapels of her robe more tightly around her. “Be reasonable. The first time doesn’t count. Doug Warwick was just trying to be helpful, there was absolutely nothing else involved. And this time it was just a drunken fool making a pass. I’m sure Slade will be terribly embarrassed in the morning.”
    “Terribly embarrassed, huh? I’ll tell you something. He ought to be goddamned grateful he’s not going to wake up with a broken neck.” Jonas tossed the towel aside and came toward her. “How the hell did he get in here, anyway?”
    Verity stepped back and felt the window ledge cut into her back. She lifted her chin defiantly. “The door was unlocked.”
    “Why was the damn door unlocked?” He reached her and his hands closed around her shoulders. He hauled her against him.
    “I left it open for you. I thought you’d be along any minute.”
    “I’m getting sick and tired of telling you to lock doors, Verity.”
    “I hardly expected anyone but you to walk in,” Verity retorted indignantly. “Honestly, Jonas. We’re guests here. How was I to know there would be any trouble?”
    His hands tightened of her shoulders. “I swear, one of these days, lady, you’re going to go too far.”
    She touched his wrists, her eyes searching his. “Jonas, forget Slade. What happened to you tonight?”
    He eyed her thoughtfully. “I touched something I shouldn’t have. A floor stone.”
    “I felt you reaching for me. I was so worried. That’s why I came back to the room early.”
    “Next time lock the door, Verity.” His mouth closed roughly over hers. “I can’t take seeing another man put his hands on you,” he said against her lips. “I just can’t handle it.”
    Verity gasped, aware of the violent rage still burning beneath the hot desire that gripped Jonas. His tongue thrust into her mouth, warning of the more intimate kind of possession that would soon follow. He pulled her more tightly against his body, as if he half-expected her to try to slip away from him.
    “Jonas,” she managed, “we need to talk.”
    “You talk too much,” he muttered thickly. “I’ve decided it’s one of your biggest problems.” He then picked her up and carried her to the bed. He tossed her down onto the quilt and began unfastening his jeans.
    Verity sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “I’m serious, Jonas. Something happened tonight, didn’t it? Something unusual, even for you. I want to know what’s going on.”
    “I’ll tell you what’s going on. Every time I turn around these days you’re sliding out of my reach. Don’t think I haven’t noticed, I’m not blind. I’ve seen that strange look in your eyes lately. I’ve seen the way you stop right in the middle of something and just stand there, staring off into the distance. I’ve felt you thinking your secret, private thoughts, Verity—thoughts you don’t share with me.”
    “For heaven’s sake, Jonas…”
    “Then I come home from Mexico and find you’ve been hurt, and some other guy is carrying you through your front door—our front door. I walk into this room tonight, our bedroom, and discover that some jerk has felt free to invite himself in.”
    “Jonas, you’re being irrational about this.”
    “Something’s