Yet, somehow, he doubted that she would have that liberty. Just now, as he watched the way she stroked her tiny pet, he realized that she would have nowhere to go except back to her stepmother’s, and although she had gained a backbone with him, her stepmother put the true fear of God into her. The way he never had.
“I think he likes you,” she said, still holding his wrist, the touch of her fingers a flagellant against his skin. He could feel every press of her fingertips as though they were imprinted upon hisvery soul. Even if she let him go now, he would be carrying the mental bruises of her touch for the remainder of his life. He could be cruel to her, he could hurt her so very easily—she was so much smaller than him—but he could never wound her the way she had done to him. And she had no clue. None whatsoever.
“You can have him back now,” he said, tipping the mouse back into her cupped hands. “I’ve recalled some urgent business I have in the house.”
“Sebastian?”
He had turned away, but now he spun back. She looked at him with such hope in her eyes, he felt like a villain for walking away. “What is it?”
“You know that I will…” She fiddled with the skirts of her dress, putting Scrunch back in her pocket. “You know that I will always be here for you, don’t you?”
He stared at her. “Many people make promises they can’t keep, Eleanor. Don’t be one of them.”
“I’m not. I—” She frowned, looking as though she was searching for words. “I want you to know because I care about you.”
Others had said similar things over the years. His uncle, before telling the world that Sebastian was a bastard, had insisted that he cared. His parents cared—that, he believed—and much good it had done them.
Eleanor did not care. She couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this be who they were.
She came closer, putting her hand on his arm, slim fingers cool against his overheated skin. “I know you don’t want to risk anyone abandoning you again. It is why you change the servants and why you won’t let Luke back in. You were friends before, weren’t you?”
“Did he tell you that?”
“No. But you are too familiar with each other to be anything but former friends. Let him in, Sebastian. Let usallin. Tell me what you fear, and I will soothe it for you.”
“Impossible.” But even as he said it, he found himself aching to believe her. For a moment, he forgot why he married her in the first place, and when he remembered, it was an unwelcome thought. A pointless one, too, because what good was that promise he had made to himself? She would not let him go.
And the scariest thing was he wasn’t sure he wanted her to leave.
He just didn’t know if he could trust her to stay.
“You are too good to me,” he murmured, cupping her chin in his hand before stepping back. “But my fears are beyond even your touch.”
“Tell me them. Entrust them to me, Sebastian. You don’t think I can help, but if you trust me, if you let me in…”
If he let her in, he risked opening himself up to the kind of pain he didn’t think he could survive twice.
What if he cared for her? And then, what if she left?
But even as he thought that, he became aware of an increasing urge to give in. He had the money so long as he married—what if he came to care for his wife? What if they were married in the traditional sense, in the sense that they loved one another?
Couldshe love him? He wasn’t certain he was lovable.
“If I let you in, I will never be able to let you out again,” he said gently. “You might think that you can fix all the breaks and holes in me, but they are too much for anyone, even you.”
“How can you be so certain?”
Because he had loved before, and his insecurities had broken them apart.
She raised her gaze to meet his, the vulnerability in her expression halting him where he stood. Awareness of it lanced through him, the sudden desire to bring her into his arms and soothe her old hurts away. “When I lost my father, I thought I was alone in the world. And I thought, perhaps, that I would always be alone. But then you came along, and you married me. Idon’t suppose I’ll ever know the reason why, because at the time, it certainly wasn’t out of affection.” She chewed her lip. “But now I know you a little better, and I think that you have also known how it feels to be alone, to feel as though you have no one there but you. Only, now we have each other.” She stepped forward, looking up into his face, and the desire to gather her closer almost overwhelmed him. He had the unfamiliar sensation of wanting to punish her family for leaving her feeling so hurt, so worthless.
The way she felt resonated in him. How many times had he felt as though there was something fundamentally wrong with him?
He could soothe her pain. When she came this close, it grew harder to push her away again. And when she had her hands on his arm, her eyes on his, he found the old fear banked. Only when she left his sight, would it rise again, threatening to swallow him.
“Being here with you has made me feel as though I am—as though my life could mean something,” she blurted. “I’ve seen parts of the man you are underneath, and I know that you feel the same way. We can heal each other, but only if you let me in. Open your heart to me. Let me be here for you. I am not going to leave the way other people in your life have.” She paused, as though she had struck a sword straight through the heart of his fears. He stared at her, wanting to believe her more than he had wanted anything in his life. “I’ll be waiting for you to realize it. One day, I hope you’ll understand how special this thing between us can be, if only you will let it.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
