“No, I do not suppose she did.”
“Andrea Demakis brought a great deal of pain to our family.”
“Yes,” he growled, wishing his body wasn’t still reacting to holding Rachel in his arms.
His mother gave him one of those looks he’d never learned to decipher as they entered the dining room. “To be such a woman’s daughter would have been even more painful.”
“She did nothing to stem her mother’s downward spiral this last year.”
“Perhaps she felt she had no influence.”
“Or she found her own comfort more important to her than that of an old man.”
He had no trouble interpreting his mother’s expression now. Disappointment radiated from her dark eyes and he gritted his teeth against justifying his accusation against Rachel. He had a feeling nothing he said would improve the situation.
He turned to greet his brother, but his mother was not finished with the conversation.
She walked around him to stand between him and his brother. “And does your personal comfort require you to drag her down to her mother’s level in your mind so that you will not give in to the attraction you have for her?”
“I am not—”
His mother raised her hand. “Lie to yourself, my son, but do not attempt to lie to the woman who gave you birth. Rachel is not anything like Andrea, but if you believed that, your heart would be at risk and that frightens you.”
That was going too far. “I could never love the daughter of Andrea Demakis.”
“Uh-oh.” His brother’s expression was pained and his mother made a moue of distress.
Needing no further impetus, Sebastian turned toward the doorway.
Rachel stood, framed in its entry, wounded green eyes fixed on him.
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