Don’t let him distract you with that voice.
“Being my husband doesn’t give you the right to orchestrate my personal relationships.“
“Doesn’t it?” he stepped closer, and she caught the scent of his cologne mixed with something darker, more masculine. “Because from where I stand, your personal relationships became my concern the moment we exchanged vows.”
“That’s not how this arrangement works.”
“Then perhaps you should explain to me how it does work.” His amber eyes fixed on hers with uncomfortable intensity. “Because I seem to be missing something crucial about why the sight of your parents sent you fleeing like they had the plague.”
He really doesn’t know.The realization hit her with surprising force.He has no idea what they did to Emmie.
“Our relationship is… complicated.”
“Complicated.” Hugo moved to the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out at the darkened street. “Most family relationships are complicated. That doesn’t usually inspire such dramatic exits.”
Dramatic exits.There was that word again.
“I don’t owe you explanations about my family history.”
“Don’t you?” He turned back to face her, and something in his expression had shifted. “Because it seems to me that a wife who can’t be in the same room as her parents without causing a scene might want to enlighten her husband about the nature of the problem.”
The cold practicality in his voice sparked her temper like flint on steel.
“A scene?” she took a step toward him, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. “You think I was making a scene?”
“What would you call it?”
“I would call it a perfectly reasonable reaction to being blindsided by the two people I least wanted to see on what was supposed to be a simple ceremony.”
Hugo’s eyes narrowed.
There was nothing simple about tonight, and we both know it.But she couldn’t admit that without revealing how much his attention had affected her, how the way he’d looked at her during their vows had made her forget why their marriage was supposed to be purely practical.
“The ceremony was exactly what we agreed upon,” she said stiffly.
“Was it? Because I seem to recall you responding rather enthusiastically to elements that weren’t part of our original business arrangement.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t you?” his mouth curved in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “The way you looked at me during the ceremony. The way you trembled when I kissed you. The way you smiled during our dance as though you were actually enjoying yourself.”
Stop noticing things like that. Stop making me aware of my own reactions.
“Physical responses to ritual and ceremony,” she said dismissively. “Nothing more significant than that.”
“If you say so.” But his tone suggested he thought otherwise. “Now tell me why seeing your parents upset you so dramatically.“
“Because—” She stopped herself, struggling with how much to reveal. “Because they did some unforgivable things.”
“What things?“
The direct question hung in the air between them like a challenge. Hugo stood perfectly still, waiting for her answer with the patience of a predator who knew his prey had nowhere left to run.
Tell him. He’s your husband now. You owe him some measure of honesty.
“My sister,” she said finally, the words scraping her throat raw. “Emmie. Lady Emmeline Gillies.”
Something shifted in Hugo’s expression—recognition, perhaps, or confusion.
