“She worshipped her husband and never went against his wishes. Not that it would have mattered if she did. His will was law.”
“What a horrid man! He had no cause to treat you so.” Emma tugged on his arm, and he turned, meeting her eyes, the unexpected fire in them fighting back some of his inner frost. “How was it your fault that you had an illness, for God’s sake? The fact that you survived and regained your health—that’s a testament to your strength and courage.”
Her conviction was like a beacon in the darkness. His beautiful Emma—his soul hungered for her light, her warmth. Yet he couldn’t go on letting her believe that she loved him when she hadn’t seen all that he was. His dark inadequacies and failures.
“Then why did my father and stepmother want to be rid of me? Why was my mama unhappy until the day she died?” The words were razors in his throat. “Will—he was always loved. But not me.”
“I didn’t know your family, so I can’t explain why they acted as they did.” Emma gripped both his arms. “But I knowyou, Alaric McLeod, and you are strong and clever and honorable. That is why I love you.”
Those words... sweet cruelty when they were all he wanted and could not have.
“You’ve a loving heart, Emma,” he said roughly. “You could love anyone.”
“That’s untrue.” She stared at him, gnawing on her lip. “If my love doesn’t convince you, think of all the other ladies who have wanted you through the years. From what I’ve heard,” she said, her tone dry, “that accounts to hordes.”
“What do they know about me?” he said with a dismissive shrug. “They see the title, the money. They do not see me.”
“I see you,” Emma said fiercely, “and I love you.”
She’s going to find out sooner or later. Better to face her disappointment now. She’ll hate you less in the long run…
Bracing himself, he said, “Laura claimed that I wasn’t capable of love. That I took her love for granted. The last time we argued she said I’d only understand if… if I lost everything. That was why she took Charlie with her when she left.”
The last time Alaric had come to the cave was after Charlie’s funeral. Alone, he hadn’t been able to shed a single tear. Had just sat there as cold and numb as the surrounding stone. What kind of a man didn’t weep over the loss of his boy?
I failed you, Charlie. Because I couldn’t love you enough.
He forced himself to say what history had proven. “The truth is, I’m not deserving of love—because I’m not capable of giving it.”
The dark walls surrounded him, closed him in.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Emma’s heart broke at the pain, the unrelenting guilt in Alaric’s voice. He couldn’t even look at her, his gaze fixed on the wall of the cave. His expression was worse than ravaged, it wasresigned: as if this were a stone prison that he could never escape.
A more refined lady might have approached him with caution, politely given him time to collect himself.Emmawas too forthright, too furious to hold her tongue.
“For God’s sake, you can’t honestly believe that drivel?” she demanded.
His head snapped up. “Pardon?”
“That self-serving nonsense your previous duchess fed you.” She glared at him. “You cannot think it is true.”
“Well, I…” He broke off, blinking.
“You married her, remained faithful to your vows even when she did not. You could have divorced her or abandoned her, but you didn’t. You stayed and gave her the protection of your name.” Emma poked him in the chest. “What is that, if not love?”
Alaric stared at her. “It was... my duty. She was my wife. My responsibility. And even if I’d once had feelings for her,”—he shook his head—“they died.”
“Becauseshekilled them. She didn’t deserve your love—which, by the by, isn’t just about words.” Emma was working herself into a fine rage and didn’t even care. “It’s about actions. It’s ridiculous that you think you aren’t capable of love when you show it every single day.”
“I… do?”
“Of course. You haven’t said you love me, but I’m quite certain you do. Because you demonstrate your affection for me in ways other than words.”
He looked dumbstruck.
“Alaric,” she said in exasperation, “you’ve filled my closets with finery fit for a queen, given me more jewelry than I could possibly wear in a lifetime, installed me in a castle—”
