“No. He pushed me down, but that was all.”
His fist clenched, along with his gut. He wanted to ask her why she'd never told him. But then, he'd left her behind. Why would she?
He took a breath and asked, “Did you speak of this to anyone else?”
“Only you.” For a long moment, she stared at him, her face bathed in moonlight.
“You should have told me about the attack, Emily," he said gently. "I cannot protect you if you're holding secrets from me.”
Her expression appeared lost and lonely. Then she shrugged. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
He didn’t believe her. She’d waited this long to confide in him—what else did she know? Getting her to let down her defenses, to trust in him, would take time.
If that was what he wanted.
He studied her for a long moment, her blonde hair silvery in the moonlight. She wore the strand of pearls he’d given her, and the beads rolled against the curve of her breast.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” she whispered.
He palmed her waist and pressured her toward the darkness. Without a word, he pulled her against the boxwood. Her breath hitched, her shoulders rising. With a single finger he twisted the pearls, drawing them taut against her bodice. Her mouth opened with a hush, her nipple tightening as he drew the strand over the hardened tip.
“I think you know why.” His own breathing grew harsh, but he continued the game. Teasing her. Tempting her. Leaning close, he kissed the softness beside her ear. She shivered, balancing her gloved hands upon his shoulders.
“Whitmore, anyone could see us—”
“Stephen.” He brushed his mouth against her cheek, moving toward her lips. “You used to call me Stephen.”
Before she could protest again, he stole her mouth, tasting the sweetness of the girl she’d once been. And the woman, the innocent beauty who was slowly captivating him.
“You kissed me like this when we were younger,” he breathed, grazing her breasts with the pearls once more. “Do you remember?”
“In the stables,” she whispered. “I was sixteen.”
When he tried to kiss her again, she stepped back, tangling her hair in the hedge. “Do they know about our marriage?”
“Probably,” he acceded. “I’ve heard the gossips whispering.”
“And what will you tell them?”
“Nothing. It’s best if they think I didn’t want a wife. It will protect you from my enemies.” If no one knew that she meant something to him, it might keep her safe.
Her expression grew stricken. “You want me to go back inside, letting them think I trapped you into marriage?” Emily disentangled herself, stepping free of his embrace. “No, thank you.”
It wasn’t what he’d meant at all. “Just stay away from my side for tonight, Emily. Let me worry about the details.”
“And that very small detail that youchoseto marry me?”
“It would not be for long,” he added. “You need only keep out of society until the man is caught. After that, I’ll reveal everything.”
“Don’t make me a part of your games.” She took another step backwards. “If you won’t admit the truth, then don’t cast the blame upon me. I’d just as soon keep our marriage a secret, if it’s all the same to you.” She strode away from him, not looking back.
But it was far too late for secrets. Stephen let her go, biding his time. Tonight, when they were alone, he would make her understand. And perhaps then, he’d demonstrate exactly what he wanted.
Her. In his bed.
Emily danced with Freddie and endured the fascinated glances of strangers. Beneath her stiff posture and masked smile, she was drowning inside. Her husband was tearing her apart, one moment making her feel hope, and then another pretending as though she didn’t exist.
She did want Stephen back in her life but not as his convenient wife. Not as a woman cast aside whenever he chose. If he could not acknowledge her, then she didn’t want him at all.
