“I don’t deny that I’ve been a horrid husband to you,” hecontinued, knowing that he would have to lose his pride to regain her. He wasat fault, and he bloody well knew it. “I should never have abandoned you whenwe first wed. If I hadn’t, I would have seen that what I’d been seeking wasright before me.”
“You were seeking Lady Billingsley,” she reminded himtartly.
He inclined his head, acknowledging that he deserved her everybitter barb and more. “I sought her because I was lonely. I thought I’d found awoman I could trust, love, live out my life with. But I’d found a broken womanwith a shallow soul, a woman who couldn’t love me because she’d never lovedherself first.”
Maggie remained unmoved, her face impassive. “What has thisto do with me?”
“It has everything to do with you.” He couldn’t restrainhimself any longer then, reaching out to brush a fallen curl from her cheek.His fingers lingered on her soft, warm skin. She didn’t shrug away as he’dexpected her to. He forced himself to continue. “When Eleanor decided to returnto Billingsley, I thought I’d lost the only woman I could ever love. But then Itrounced the train of a beautiful woman at Nell’s ball, and I realized I waswrong.”
He stopped, almost afraid to continue. He hadn’t allowedhimself to think it, to even ponder the notion during his month away. But nowthat he was back in her presence, it was all too clear to him. He loved Maggie.He loved the poet, the temptress, the violet-eyed, flame-haired wanton whobrought him to his knees and made him dance in the rain. He loved that she’dbeen kind to him when she shouldn’t have, that she’d cared enough to want tohear his laughter, that she was without artifice and simply herself.
Damn it all, he hadn’t intended to do things this way, tokneel before her on a floor that was surely a form of torture, to open himselffor scorn or rejection. He’d wanted to take her riding, flirt with her, perhapssteal a kiss. But she was naked in the bath, more glorious than he’d imagined,and he couldn’t seem to stop from making a complete fool of himself. He staredat her, afraid to say more, afraid not to.
Her eyes were wide, trained upon him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” he began, only to pause and take a steadyingbreath. Christ, he’d never intended to reveal so much to her. Not today,perhaps not ever. “I’m saying that I love you, Maggie.”
Once again, she didn’t produce the sort of response he mayhave hoped. She shook her head, her expression turning sad. “No you don’t. I’mnot even certain you know what love is.”
The bloody hell he didn’t. He stiffened. “Of course I knowwhat love is.”
“You think you know what love is,” she countered. “Love mostcertainly doesn’t involve flitting from woman to woman and disappearing for anentire month, leaving the woman you profess to love to suppose you’ve goneforever.”
They were back to his leaving. A stalemate. Devil take it,didn’t she see he’d had no choice? When she’d fallen to the floor in his study,he’d been disgusted with himself. It had been as if he’d transformed into amonster before his very eyes. He’d been out of his mind with guilt, drink andgrief, and he hadn’t been certain of what he’d do. Given time and distance, hissanity had returned. He was in a far better place now. He’d even shaved, byGod.
“I had to leave,” he repeated. “I couldn’t trust myself.”
Her lips compressed in a stern line that told him she wasvastly displeased. “You could have left word. You could have returned the nextday. You did neither.”
He supposed he shouldn’t expect her to understand. Christ,he didn’t understand himself. All he knew was that he’d been lost in his griefand his guilt. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I cannot say it any other way. I wasnot myself.”
Her expression softened ever so slightly, but she maintainedher defensive pose, her arms crossed over her delicious breasts. “I know it wasdifficult for you, losing the woman you loved.”
“It was a tragedy,” he admitted, repeating the only answerhe’d been able to find in his self-imposed search. “It never should havehappened.”
“No, it should not have,” she said quietly. “But it did, andwe must now forever live with its mark on our hearts. On yours especially.”
It was time, he realized, to tell her the truth he’d onlyrecently uncovered himself. “Maggie, I haven’t loved Eleanor in some time. Intruth, I’m not certain I ever did. She was simply a way to keep from feeling sobloody alone.” He paused, trying to find the proper words. If there were any.
“Then what was I?” she asked, her voice hushed, eyeswatching him.
He wanted to look away but could not. Maggie was so muchmore to him, more than he ever could have imagined she would be. More,certainly, than he had ever wanted her to be. Hell, he’d never intended toconsummate their marriage, and now he bloody well couldn’t live without her.
He swallowed. “Initially, you were a necessity. Then, youwere a beautiful stranger I couldn’t help but make love to. Finally, you becamesomething intoxicating, something I knew I ought not to have but that Icouldn’t resist. Like whiskey. But in all the time we spent together, you wereone thing above all others.”
“What?”
“The woman I love,” he told her again, more determined nowthat he’d already said it to her once. And he meant the words, damn it. Meantthem as he’d never meant them in his life. “My wife. A woman who made me dancein the rain, who made me laugh, who taught me that life need not be so veryserious after all or so very lonely.” He reached out to her again, cupping hercheek. He was heartened when she didn’t shrug away. The scented water of herbath clung to the air between them, teasing his senses. “Tell me you feelnothing at all for me, Maggie. I asked you yesterday, and now I ask you again.”
She was silent for a beat, still staring at him as if shecouldn’t be sure what to expect. “You know I cannot tell you that. Of course Ihave feelings for you. It is simply that I can’t afford to have them. The priceis too great.”
Relief blossomed in his chest. She couldn’t deny she stillcared. He had hope, then, that if he pressed her, the wall she’d been doing herbest to build between them could be broken.
“What is the price of love?” he asked, sliding his hand tothe nape of her neck and drawing her face closer to his ever so slowly.
“Dear,” she said simply. “Please don’t, Simon. It hurts toomuch.”
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t shake the feeling that stoppingnow would cost him the one thing he wanted most. Her. And he couldn’t bear thatgreat a loss. Not now, not ever. “I can’t stop,” he said honestly. “Push meaway if you must.”
