'That must give you a lot of satisfaction,' she ran on, suddenly hating the fact that she'd had no part in it, hadn't been invited to take any part in it.

'Yes,' he acknowledged, but the mockery was back, deriding this conversation, telling her it had no relevance.

It goaded her into demanding some recognition of her as a person, not just the object of a desire he could pick up and put down as he liked.

'Why don't you ask me about my year?'

'Because I don't want to know.'

Ruthless truth. He only wanted to know her in the biblical sense.

She averted her gaze from the intensely...