“Weaknesses?” Rose walked in behind him. “Do you see this as a weakness?”
“No,” he admitted. “But the point remains the same.”
He had said too much, and he realized it immediately.
It was because he felt so safe in this room that Christopher had spoken so freely. He kept his focus on the iris flowers, determined to pretend that they were the most important thing in the world. And Rose stood behind him, watching him, studying, assessing his response, and picking it apart.
He braced himself for the follow-up and the lie he was going to have to tell her. And, most strangely, the thought of lying to her at all made him feel ill.
Why did I bring her down here in the first place?
“Tell me about these?” Rose stepped around him so that she could better see the purple flowers.
“Oh,” He blinked in surprise and breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
“They are,” she said as she reached out, stroking a finger across the purple flowers. “You have an eye for it.”
“For what?”
She blushed and glanced at him before looking away. “For finding beauty.”
The midday sun shone through the room and washed across Rose’s face, making her skin glow pink. Her eyes, big and brown, glimmered as they looked from the flowers to Christoper. She was standing closer, half-turned toward him, the distance between them so minimal that he could feel the heaviness of her breathing.
Christopher’s own heart started to thump loudly. Despite his best efforts, his eyes flicked to her lips, and his chest tightened.
The silence between them grew, as did the understanding that seemed to come with the moment. One that was so obvious, so stark, it was a wonder that it took this long to arrive.
Christopher was attracted to his wife; of that, he had no doubt. What was more, he was starting to like her as a person. He likedhow confident she was. He liked how self-assured and stubborn she could be. He liked… he liked… he liked it all.
He had wanted a subservient wife. He had wanted a wife he could control. And now that he had the complete opposite, he wondered how he had ever wanted anything different. Yes, he knew the danger. But in the moment, as he looked at her, that did not seem to matter.
“Rose,” he started softly, turning to face her fully.
“Yes?” She looked up and met his eyes, and he could see the hope behind them.
“I- I-” His eyes flicked to her lips. He stepped in closer. The energy around them exploded, and all he had to do was lean in and kiss his wife, knowing that she would kiss him back.
The only thing that stopped him was that voice in the back of his head, screaming that it was not worth it. Christopher had been alone for so long for a good reason, hiding his true self from everyone for the very same reason, and to break that now was too dangerous.
“We'd best get back to work,” he said, turning away.
“Oh,” Rose blinked in confusion. “I… yes, yes, we should.” Her eyes narrowed, and he wondered if she was going to say something about what nearly happened. He hoped that she would object.
Of course, she did not, and she put her head down and strode past him. Christopher sighed with relief, following closely behind. As he left the room, he looked back one last time, gazing on the sunroom, the plants and flowers, his sanctuary.
He loved it down here because when he was in this room, alone, he could be himself in ways that he simply could not in the real world. And while he would have liked to have shown that side to Rose, he knew that he never could.
A damn shame, really, because a part of him knew how much she would love it. Just as he would love it to.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Ipromise I will be home before supper,” Rose assured Christoper as she climbed inside the carriage.
“You better be,” he said.
She paused in the doorway and looked down at him. “Is that right?”
He seemed to understand immediately how he must have sounded, because he scoffed and looked at her flatly. “We still have work that needs finishing, and as you have been so insistent on being involved…”
