Brian was rarely at a loss for words—something of a survival trait for lawyers—but he was struck speechless now. He stood there in the kitchen doorway, gaping at Lugh and absently rubbing the spot on his chest that Lugh had poked. I wondered if it would leave a bruise.
But Brian wasn’t speechless for long. I could see him pulling the shreds of his composure back together. His shoulders straightened and his chin rose, the lines in his jaw showing how tightly his teeth were clenched. He leaned ever so slightly forward, into Lugh’s personal space, and if it were anyone but Brian, I would have suspected he was seriously considering throwing a punch.
“You think you’re the best thing that ever happened to her, huh?” Brian asked, and there was no missing the fury in his voice. “Because of you, she was almost burned at the stake. Because of you, I was kidnapped and tortured. Because of you, her father is dead. And none of this is going to stop until you’re out of our lives once and for all. So don’t give me all this self-righteous bullshit when we both know all you really want is to get into her pants.”
Internally, I winced. I’d seen Brian angry before, but not like this. Not almost-out-of-control angry.
He’s angry because he knows I’m right, and he doesn’t like it, Lugh said, his mental voice sounding much calmer than he was making my own voice sound out loud.
“Don’t forget, I’m just as happy to get into your pants as hers,” Lugh said, twisting my lips into a nasty smile.
Brian’s face, already red with anger, turned almost crimson, and both fists clenched at his sides. Lugh folded his arms across his chest … that is, folded my arms across my chest. “Go ahead and hit me if it will make you feel better,” Lugh said. “I won’t let Morgan feel it.”
And, for reasons I didn’t even begin to understand, Brian’s shoulders suddenly sagged, and the anger drained from his face.
“Jesus Christ,” Brian said, scrubbing at his hair with both hands—trying to find an outlet for all that rage, I suppose.
“I’ve told Morgan this many times,” Lugh said, his voice now much softer. “You and I are not in competition. She loves you, Brian. You have no idea how much power that gives you over her, or how terrified she is of that power. I’ve helped her manage that fear, you know I have. I’m not your competition, and I’m certainly not your enemy.”
Brian looked defeated. “I know that, I guess. I just …” He shrugged.
I felt one corner of my mouth lift in a wry smile. “You just want some evidence that if she had to choose between you and me, she’d choose you.”
Brian laughed, but it was a nervous sound. “It sounds so childish when you put it that way.”
It is! I wanted to yell at him. Probably just as well Lugh was in control at the moment.
Lugh reached out with my hand and cupped Brian’s cheek tenderly. Brian jumped at the touch, clearly not sure what to do. It was, after all, my hand. I just didn’t happen to be the one controlling it.
“It’s you that Morgan loves,” Lugh said, his fingers— my fingers—tracing a line down the side of Brian’s face. “Don’t back her into a corner to make her prove it. Some things are meant to be taken on faith.”
Brian shied away from Lugh’s touch, but there didn’t seem to be any real rancor or distaste in the gesture. “You’ve made your point. Now will you put Morgan back in control?”
Lugh sighed. “I will if you promise to drop the argument and nurse us back to health.”
Brian almost smiled at that, but not quite.
I tried to brace myself as Lugh faded into the background and put me back in the driver’s seat, but the headache still slammed into the back of my eyes like a semi truck. I groaned and let myself sag into Brian’s waiting arms.
fifteen
I WAS NOT A HAPPY CAMPER. WHEN LUGH AND I change control too often, I invariably get sick to my stomach and am gifted with a raging headache. The closer together the control changes are, the worse my symptoms. Twice in two days was very definitely too much, and I felt like an industrious blacksmith had taken up residence in my skull.
I felt too lousy to continue my deep discussion with Brian, or even to complain about Lugh taking over like that. Brian didn’t seem much inclined to continue the conversation, either. He sent me off to my bedroom to hide in the comforting semidarkness as I waited for the aftereffects to go away. If previous experience was any guide, I’d feel better in a few hours as long as Lugh didn’t take control again. If he did, I was in for at least three days of misery.
Brian brought me some aspirin and a glass of water. I took them even though I knew they wouldn’t help. My head throbbed steadily, and I hoped that, miraculously, this time the aspirin would work.
True to his word, Brian spent the rest of the afternoon with me. We didn’t talk much—it was hard to be coherent when my head hurt so badly—but I did find his presence strangely comforting. I spent the entire time lying in my bed with my eyes closed, willing the pain to go away. Brian tried to distract me with a back rub that would have felt heavenly under other circumstances.
I guess I must have drifted off to sleep despite the pounding in my head, because time seemed to pass without all the hours of the day being accounted for. One moment, I was curled into a little ball of misery with my pillow over my head, as if that could somehow keep the pain from getting to me. The next, I was listening to a ringing phone and deciding to let my answering machine get it. I had no idea I’d fallen asleep until Brian came in and sat on the side of the bed.
“Adam and Raphael are on their way up,” he said, keeping his voice low in respect for my headache.
“They said you were expecting them.”
I groaned and rolled over, lifting the pillow off my head and squinting at Brian as if there were a bright light shining in my eyes. “I’m not expecting them until six,” I said, then made to hide under the pillow again.
“Morgan, it’s ten after six.”
I let out a little squeak of alarm, sitting up so fast it made my head throb even worse. I glanced at the bedside clock, even though I knew Brian wouldn’t be playing games with me when I wasn’t feeling well. Sure enough, it was after six.
“Shit,” I said, with feeling.
Brian frowned at me. “Should I have told them to go away?”
I started to shake my head, then thought better of it. “No. Besides, they’d have come up anyway.”
Adam’s badge worked like an all-access pass to my apartment when he wanted it to. It was probably illegal to use the badge under false pretenses, but Adam wasn’t about to sweat legalities.
“Can you go let them in while I get dressed?” I’d taken off my top and bra so Brian could get his hands on bare skin while he massaged me.
“Sure,” he said, but I caught the quick little glance he gave my bare breasts. It almost made me smile.
I took my time getting dressed. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of leaving Brian in Adam and Raphael’s company for very long, but whenever I tried to move too fast, the pain in my head spiked.
Eventually, I made my way out into the living room. The guys had been arguing about something, but they all shut up the moment I stepped into the room. Brian was sitting on the couch, looking pissed off again. Adam was sitting on the arm of the couch, looking neutral. And Raphael was sprawled on the love seat, looking smugly amused.
I remembered belatedly that I was planning to chew Raphael a new one, but it was hard to build up a head of steam when I felt so lousy. It also occurred to me that I might not be in the best shape to join this interrogation squad, but there was no way in hell I was letting Adam and Raphael do it without supervision. Never mind that they would ignore my “supervision” whenever they found it convenient.