Regan's Pride by Diana Palmer Page B

Angry voices still made her uneasy, and Ted was much more volatile than she’d ever realized. At home, without any social restraints on his temper, it seemed to be terrible.
    â€œHow do you stand it?” Coreen asked Sandy nervously, as they set the table.
    Sandy stopped what she was doing and turned to her friend, hardly aware of a cessation of the noise outside. “He isn’t like Barry,” she said softly. “He isn’t a violent man. It takes a lot to make him fight, and he doesn’t hit women. He’s just upset because he’s been unkind to you, and that’s why he’s being impossible to live with. He’s sorry about the way he’s treated you and too proud to apologize for it.”
    â€œHe’s very loud,” Coreen muttered.
    â€œHe’s a marshmallow inside” came the musing reply. “What you see isn’t the real man. Ted hides what he feels under that prickly exterior. It keeps people from finding out how vulnerable he really is.”
    â€œIn a pig’s eye,” Coreen retorted. “He’s steel right through.”
    Sandy put a plate down a little noisily. “But you don’t hate him,” she added, her voice as clear as a bell in the room.
    Coreen flushed. She started to argue, aware of Sandy’s level stare and a tiny flicker of diverted attention that was quickly concealed.
    â€œDo you?” she persisted.
    â€œNo,” Coreen confessed, her eyes lowered. “But it might have been easier for me if I had, once. Barrymade my life so miserable. You can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone taunt you with feelings you can’t help, to hold another man’s rejection over your head for years, reminding you over and over again that you weren’t worth loving. He was so jealous of Ted…insanely jealous, even though he didn’t really want me himself. He couldn’t stand it when he found out how I felt about Ted. I think he would have killed me, that last night…”
    A faint sound from behind her brought her head around. Ted had been standing in the open doorway. His face was hard and drawn, oddly pale.
    â€œWell, get an earful, Ted,” Coreen muttered with the first show of spirit yet. An open sack of flour sat on the table beside her and she accidentally knocked it with her elbow, jumping to catch it before it fell. Even then she fumbled and had to clutch it to her.
    â€œMiss Graceful,” Ted drawled without thinking.
    To Coreen, it was the last straw. She could see the sudden recognition, the regret, in Ted’s face as he remembered too late what Henry had told them about Barry taunting her with her clumsiness. But her self-control was gone. It was one taunt too many.
    She didn’t even think. She wheeled and threw the bag of flour at him without a single hesitation.
    The bag was made of paper and it broke immediately. Ted’s shocked expression was coated in a white layer of flour, like the whole front of him. It mingled with the grease to give him a vaguely mottled look.
    â€œTarred and feathered,” Sandy remarked pleasantly and suddenly broke into gales of laughter.
    Ted glared at her and then Coreen, who was as shocked by her own actions as Ted seemed to be.
    Coreen saw the flash of anger in his pale eyes and the color that overlaid his cheekbones as he stared at her. She felt sick all over, remembering how Barry had reacted if she showed any spirit at all. She felt her knees shaking as she stared up at Ted, waiting for the explosion, waiting for him to hit her.
    That expression in her eyes stopped Ted’s anger cold. He calmed down at once. “For a woman who hates violence,” he remarked through floury lips, “you have an absolutely amazing lack of restraint.”
    With a rueful smile, he turned and left a white trail behind him on his way out of the kitchen.
    â€œAnd let that be a lesson to you!” Sandy yelled after him. “Never