Of course, that only worked under the assumption that he had done something wrong.

Which he hadn’t. Technically, he hadn’t done anything wrong other than offend her.

That was, unfortunately, subjective. Not set in stone.

She sighed again, then turned her attention to her brother.

Morgan’s blue eyes were studying her with wary suspicion. He placed both hands on the desk and leaned over it, narrowing his eyes. “Joan.”

“Yes?” Joan replied, swallowing.

“I must admit, I really wish you could lie right now. Because I don’t think I want to know the truth,” he said evenly.

Joan didn’t look away; it would be useless regardless. She wouldn’t lie, even if he’d rather she did. “What’s your question.”

“You don’t… That is…” He huffed and closed his eyes for a moment, as if mustering his resolve to continue. “You haven’t a tendre for Rowles.”

Joan tipped her head. “That’s not a question.”

Morgan closed his eyes, then smacked the desk. “Blast it all, Joan.”

She jumped at the sound, then scowled at her brother. “I’m not going to cower just because you are having a fit of temper.”

“Believe me, I know you don’t cower. You don’t back down, and you don’t lie. It’s a disaster.”

“How is that a disaster?” Joan threw her hands up in the air. “Do you want me to run and hide in a dark corner when you lose your temper and lie to your face about it later? What sort of man wishes for that?”

“Joan—”

“Answer me.”

Morgan met her stare. “I wouldn’t call a person like that much of a man, to answer your question. But you’ve put me in a dreadful position.”

“Oh? In what way? Because last I checked your heart isn’t invested in anything, so what do you possibly have to lose?”

“Is it?” Morgan asked, his stare boring through her.

“Is what?”

“Your heart invested.”

Joan ran a finger along the wooden grain of the desktop. “Not enough to cause harm or regret. He likely doesn’t know, and I was already chiding myself for it.”

“Good, that’s…good.”

“Whyever is that good?” Joan’s eyes flickered back to his.