Annoyed, he cupped a hand under her chin and turned her face to his. “You’re wrong. You have exactly what it is. She’s only blaming you because she knows you’ll take it. You’ll be there.”

He dropped his hand, resisted getting up to pace. He wasn’t a damn shrink, but anyone with eyes could see the woman needed something. “I went through a period when I blamed my mother for a lot of things. But I never said it to her. Because I didn’t know if she’d take it. I didn’t know if she’d be there.”

Perhaps that was how he saw, she mused. How he understood. “Maybe it’s easier for you to understand her. I never had anyone let me down. My mother and father were—are—as steady as this rock. Never faltered, never wavered. Never failed.”

And she had done all of those, Laura thought. Faltered. Wavered. Failed. It wasn’t a simple matter to regain balance after you’d been rocked.

“Then again,” he said, watching her face, “maybe she blames you because you blame you. Get a grip, Laura.”

“You’ve never been married,” she shot back.

“Yeah, I was. Six months.” He lifted a brow as he rose. “And I didn’t fuck it up alone. I’ll keep working with the kids,” he continued when she said nothing. “But I’ve got a condition.”

He’d been married? Her mind swung there, back, tried to keep up. “All right. What is it?”

“Stop hiding in the house. Come down and see what they’re doing.” Amused at both of them, he took the flower from her, tucked it in her hair. “I’m not going to jump you in front of your children.”

“I haven’t been hiding, and I never assumed your behavior in front of them would be inappropriate.”

“Christ, it’s fascinating to watch you click into that lady-of-the-manor mode. I don’t know whether to pull my forelock or jump you after all.”

Cool as snowmelt, she inclined her head. “I’d prefer you do neither. Now that we’ve spoken, I certainly will come down and check on the girls’ progress. I appreciate your bringing me up to date.”

“Yes, ma’am, Ms. Templeton.”

“Sarcasm suits you, Michael.”

He grabbed her arm before she could stride past him. “So do you.” He said it softly, his face close to hers. “By Christ, so do you. You want to be careful playing princess to peasant with me, Laura. Puts my back up. Makes me want to prove something.”

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. Now let go of my arm.”

“When I’m finished.” He preferred her like this, the challenge of her, encased in ice. The wounded woman made him feel weak and clumsy and eager to soothe.