More guilt skewered her. But this guilt was different. It was guilt because her husband was seeing another man touch her. Her cheeks went hot, and she resisted the urge to tear herself from Tom’s grasp. How foolish an instinct that was. Tom was the man who would become her husband. She ought to be awash in guilt for having been intimate with Jack.
The wickedness she had committed with him had been so much more than a mere hand on the sleeve of her gown.
“Sidmouth,” Jack bit out, not bothering with formality. “Unhand my wife.”
Tom’s grasp on her tightened instead as he faced Jack without retreating. “No.”
Jack stopped just short of them, and the anger he emanated was almost palpable. His gaze seared hers, accusation glittering in the startling depths, before he flicked it back to Tom. “I do not want to have to deliver another drubbing to you today, Sidmouth, but if you do not cease manhandling Nellie, I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“Nellie?” Tom repeated, casting a questioning look in Nell’s direction.
“It means nothing,” she reassured him softly.
But that was a lie, just like so much of her life was. What she and Jack shared was everything. That connection remained, the bond, the magnetism and spark. The love. The only difference was, she was wiser than she had once been. She knew that was no longer enough. She knew how badly he could hurt her.
And she knew Tom never would.
Of course, Tom would never ravish her on a dining room table, either.
Viciously, she dismissed that unworthy thought.
Tom’s grip on her strengthened, as if he were trying to claim her then and there. Jack’s stare burned into her.
“Is it nothing, Nellie?” he asked softly. “It does not feel like nothing, does it, what we have?”
He was right. Blast him, how right he was.
But she could not choose him. Not this time. She had to do what was best for her heart. Tom was the safe choice. Tom was a man she could trust. He loved her, and his love was pure and true. It was not caustic like Jack’s.
She lifted her chin. “It feels hollow, Needham. Thirteen days, and then I will have my freedom, is that not right?”
There was something in his countenance—hurt, she thought. It ate at her. She felt as if she were bleeding slowly, losing herself.
“If you still want the divorce at the end of the thirteen days, it will be yours,” he agreed stiffly.
And this, too, felt like a betrayal.
“Thirteen days will not alter her mind, will it, Nell?” Tom asked her, his voice sharp.
She turned to find him watching her intently. “Of course not.”
It did not matter how much time passed or how much Jack made her ache for him. He could not erase the broken trust or the betrayal. The past was unchangeable. He had broken her. She would not allow him to do so again.
“Get out of my home, Sidmouth,” Jack demanded, his voice low, laden with warning.
Tom stiffened. “I will go when I am assured you will not force yourself upon Nell. You may be her husband now and it is within the law to require your husbandly rights, but I will be damned if I leave her here to suffer your unwanted attentions.”
Oh dear.
Jack laughed, though the sound held no levity. “You have my word I will not force myself upon my wife. And you also have my assurance that my attentions would not be unwanted. Would they, Nellie?”
He was taunting her. Daring her.
She froze. Surely he would not reveal the truth to Tom? It was a confession she would need to make herself. When the time was right. When Jack was not presiding over their dialogue.
“What is the matter, darling wife?” Jack prodded. “Speechless?”
She found her voice at last. “Stop this, both of you. I will not be subjected to such degradations, the two of you fighting over me as if you are no better than dogs slavering over a bone. Needham, you will have your thirteen days. Tom, I will see you at the end of them.”
