Chase clenched his jaw at the most likely answer to her question.
Despite everything his father had done, Chase still found it difficult to acknowledge the weaknesses he’d discovered in the man who’d raised him. Because those weaknesses had been appalling. And the same blood coursed through his own veins.
Bethany removed the cigar from his fingers, and he watched as she painstakingly, although not quite as painstaking as before, took another drag.
“You are enjoying it?” Her interest in his cigar lightened his heart for some reason.
She cleared her throat and shrugged as she handed it back. “It is quieting.” And then she dropped her stare.
“What?” What caused her to suddenly look away from him?
Her fingers tapped out an eight-letter word and she wriggled uncomfortably.
“I suppose…” Her slippered toes peeked out from beneath her gown and she drew a circle in the shells. “It helps me feel closer to you.”
And why would she want to feel closer to him? The answer stared him in the face. Rather, it shined from her eyes.
Shecaredfor him.
If he was going to be strictly honest with himself, he’d known this from the outset but had refused to allow it to matter. Romantic feelings or not, he’d had no other choice but to marry her. Even if she’d cared for him in a romantic way, it could only be in a flighty or girlish sense.
But seeing a certain look in her eyes, he wasn’t so certain of that now.
Whereas some ladies were comparable to cream puffs, Bethany Fitzwilliam was beef stew. She was wholesome and sturdy and made up of ingredients that could provide almost any man a lifetime of nourishment.
It wouldn’t make sense for her to care for him in a flighty sense. He dropped his gaze to his cigar. If she liked the cheroot because it made her feel closer to him, then that meant that she wanted just that.
She wants to feel closer to me. An unpleasant weight squeezed his chest.
She’d always been close to Westerley, Lady Tabetha, and even their mother. And before Westerley’s father was killed, she’d never strayed far from the legend of a man.
Chase studied the glowing embers.
She wants to feel closer to me.
“You wish to be close to your family because you care for them,” he offered and then handed the cigar back without her having to ask.
“Yes.” She seemed surprised that he understood. “If I care for a person, I want to betherefor them. I cannot be there for them if I don’t know what’s in their heart.”
Good God. How the hell could anyone know what was going on in there?
“Whereas when I care for a person,” Chase had no doubt on this matter, “I protect them.”
“From?” she prodded.
He flicked the lace at his wrists. “From things that hurt them.”
“And who protects you?”
Chase accepted the cigar back from her. Without providing an answer to her question, he sucked the end. Why would anyone need to protect him? All he required was that the people he was responsible for remained safe and content. Protecting them gave him great satisfaction.
Confusion pricked at the back of his neck.
She cares for me.
“Do you not wish me to protect you then?” Out of the question, of course. But what part of this puzzle was he missing?
He’d married her. He’d made love to her.
