Brendan knows he should tell her the truth, but once he does, she will leave him forever. So he keeps pretending and every time she says, “I love you,” he dies a little more inside, for he knows he will never be the man she wants him to be.
|Publisher:||The Wild Rose Press|
|Product dimensions:||0.60(w) x 8.00(h) x 5.00(d)|
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"Be making no mistakes, Meg Greyson. 'Tis a hard man I be and a hard life I be living. I've no room in it for soft words and doe-eyed looks. And by the saints, I'll be wanting none o' yer damn pity!" He whirled on his heels. His long strides took him quickly into the barn.
Meg stared after him, her emotions caught somewhere between wanting to give him a big hug and wanting to hit him with a big rock. Lifting her chin, she marched into the dimly lit building and halted before him. His hat on his head, he froze in the act of sliding his arm into the sleeve of his shirt. Cold jade eyes clashed with hers.
She wheeled around, scanned the interior, strode to the corner, picked up a bucket, and stalked back. Her jaw set, she slammed the bucket--upside down--on the floor at his feet. Then she snatched up the hem of her skirt and with two sharp clicks of her heels against the wood, stomped on top. Though the extra height helped, she was still forced to tip her head back in order to meet his narrow-eyed scowl.
"Mister Kelly! If you have had a hard life, so be it. But do not presume to bully me with your harsh words and threatening looks. I have endured it for years from my family and I will not tolerate it from the man I marry! Another thing! Do not be so quick to confuse pity with compassion. Understand, sir, I pity only those whom I cannot respect. I offer my compassion to those that I care for!"
Her nose in the air, she stepped off the bucket, picked it up, and replaced it in the corner. Then with her head high, she marched from the barn and left him standing there with his shirt sleeve half way up his arm.