“That is to say, I do enjoy making love with you, Gregory, but I am also in love with you.”
“I need no clarification on that, madam.” He scraped a leering gaze over her glistening, naked body.
Argyll only cost himself with that look. This need for her ravaged him.
She saved him from himself. “I do not like when you use that word.” Daria frowned. “It is crass. I’d ask you to find some other way to shock me.”
Any other moment, he’d have leapt at that as an invitation his innocent wife didn’t know she’d issued.
Jaw clenching, Argyll strode to the washbasin. “You are confused, Daria.” Grabbing a cloth, he hastily washed his cock.
“I was before.” She paused. “But only about what the curse was leading me to; what it was offering me…what it was offering us,” she said softly.
“You were wrong before, madam.” He favored her with a frosty smile. “You are wrong now.” Argyll angrily stuffed his length inside his trousers and refastened them.
“You are afraid.”
“Enough, madam!” he thundered the same moment a hard pounding sounded at the entrance.
Her expression shattered.
Argyll closed his eyes against it.
Argyll took a steadying breath—his efforts in vain. “Yes?” he called at the door panel.
“Kilburn and DuMond need you.”
He took in a steadying breath. “Please, inform them I’ll be along shortly.”
When he looked at Daria, he’d finally regained control. “Daria,” he began somberly. “I did not want to marry you,”
Tears filled her eyes. The first on account of her own suffering, and not his or others she worried after.
Oh, Christ.
Pain bloomed behind his ribs and he wanted to cut himself open for hurting her.
“I wasn’t finished, Daria,” he said, his voice strained. “I did not want to marry you because I knew you would be hurt.” That bore correcting. “I knewIwould hurt you.” Every admission he gave her; he lay a strip upon his own flesh with an invisible lash. “I was wrong to wed you. The truth is, I wanted you and I married you, not because I love you, but because I’m selfish. I wanted you more than I worried about how you would suffer.”
He glanced away a moment.
When he returned, Daria stood drawn tight into herself; her shoulders erect, her body near breaking.
Because of me…
His hands flexed, and then stilled.
“I can only give you what I’m capable of, Daria,” he said, offering her more than he’d ever any woman. “I like you. I… care about you. I do not want to see you hurt.” He grimaced. “More than I already have,” he allowed.
“I’m aware this situation for you will likely be untenable.” He forced a slow exhale from his nose. “I can’t offer you the things you deserve, need, and want. I will set you free if that is what you need to not be further hurt.”
A weight settled in his chest.
Was he truly the man saying these things? Making these allowances?
His gaze fixed on Daria’s soft, arresting face.
Argyll stared over the top of her head.
