"That isn't what I wanted to talk about."
"I know." She looked down at her hands.
"I made a fool of myself day before yesterday. It won't happen again."
So much had happened since then that for a moment he stared blankly at her, then realized she was talking about what had happened when they were riding. He'd been a clumsy idiot, and typically, Roanna was taking the blame for it.
"You didn't make a fool of yourself," he said harshly, walking over to the veranda doors to check them again, just to make certain they were locked.
"I didn't want to take advantage of you, and I handled it all wrong." He stood there, watching her reflection in the glass.
"But that's something we'll talk about later. Right now, I want to know what it is you aren't telling the sheriff."
She kept her gaze on her hands, but he saw how still she went.
"Nothing." He could see the guilt, the discomfort, even in the reflection.
"Roanna." He turned around and went over to her, squatting down in front of the chair and taking her hands in his. She was sitting in what was evidently her favorite position, with her feet pulled up onto the seat and tucked her under nightgown. He looked at the bandage on her head rather than the shadowy peaks of her nipples poking against the white cloth, because he didn't want anything to distract
him from what he wanted to find out, and just being close to her was bad enough.
"You can fool the others, but they don't know you the way I do. I can tell when you're hiding something. Did you see who hit you? Do you remember more than you're telling?"
"No," she said miserably.
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing-"
"Ro," he said warningly. "Don't lie to me. I know you too well. What are you hiding?"
She bit her lip, worrying it between her teeth, and her golden brown eyes lifted to him, filled with a distress so intense he almost reached out for her in comfort.
"I walk in my sleep," she said.
He stared at her, astounded. Whatever he'd been expecting, that wasn't it.
"What?"
"I'm a sleepwalker. I guess that's part of the reason I have insomnia," she explained in a soft tone, looking down again.
"I hate waking up in strange places, not knowing how I got there, what I've done, if anyone has seen me. I only do it when I'm in a deep sleep, so-" "So you don't sleep," he finished. He felt himself shattering inside as he realized the sheer enormity of the burden she carried, the pressure under which she lived. God, how did she stand it? How did she function? For the first time, he sensed the slender core of pure steel in her. She wasn't little, needy, insecure Roanna any longer. She was a woman, a Davenport, Lucinda's granddaughter, with her share of the Davenport strength.
"You were sleepwalking night before last."
She inhaled deeply.
"I must have been. I was so tired, I went to sleep as soon as I got in bed. I don't remember anything until I woke up in the hall with a splitting headache and you and Lucinda leaning over me. I thought I had fallen, though I've never had any accidents before when I was sleepwalking."
"Jesus." He stared at her, shaken by the image that came to mind. She had walked up to the burglar like a lamb to slaughter, not seeing him even though her eyes had been open. Sleepwalkers looked awake, but they weren't. Possibly the burglar even thought she could identify him. Attempted burglary and assault weren't crimes that warranted murder to avoid arrest, but she could be in danger anyway. Not only were new locks going on everywhere, as well as an alarm system that would wake the dead if there was an unauthorized intrusion, but he would make damn certain everyone in the county knew she had a concussion and didn't remember anything about the incident. An article about the attempted burglary had been in the paper, and as a follow-up, he would have that information printed as well.
"Why didn't you tell the sheriff that you walk in your sleep?"
"Lanette was there," she said, as if that were reason enough, It was, but it took him a moment to think it through.
"No one knows, do they?"
She gave a slight shake of her head, then winced and stopped the motion. "It's embarrassing, knowing that I wander around in my nightgown, but it's more than that. If anyone knew.. ."
Again, it didn't take a genius to follow her thoughts.
"Corliss," he said grimly.
"You're afraid the little bitch would play nasty tricks on you." He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of her hands, feeling the slender, elegant bones just under the skin.
She didn't respond to that, just said, "It's better if no one knows."
"She won't be here much longer." He was glad he could make that promise.
Roanna looked startled.
"She won't? Why?"
"Because I told her she'd have to move out. She can stay until Lucinda ... She can stay for a few more months if she behaves herself. If she doesn't, she'll have to leave before then. Lanette and Greg will have to find another place to live, too. Greg makes good money, there's no excuse for them to be sponging off Lucinda the way they have."
"I think living here was Lanette's decision, hers and Gloria's."
"Probably, but Greg could have said no. I don't know about Brock. I've always liked him, but I didn't expect him to be a moocher."
"Brock has a plan," Roanna explained, and unexpectedly a faint smile touched her pale lips.
"He's living here so he can save as much money as possible before he gets married. He's going to build his own house. He and his fianc�e have already had an architect draw up the blueprints."