For being a selfish ass. For not realizing that my pleasure meant your pain.
“I hurt you.” Self-loathing roughened his voice. “I’m sorry, Penny. I never meant to.”
“Hurt me? Oh…” Her lashes lowered. She bit her lip. “It wasn’t that bad. Truly.”
“I don’t want it to be bad at all. You know that, don’t you?” He tipped her chin up, relief and tenderness bursting in his chest at the love and trust he saw in her violet eyes. ThankGodhis carelessness hadn’t damaged her faith in him. Humbled, he vowed, “I swear it’ll get better. I’ll make it better for you.”
She smiled at him, and he didn’t know how she could after he’d been such a brute—so consumed by his own desire that he hadn’t sensed that she must have been hurting. In truth, he’d believed that she’d enjoyed their lovemaking every bit as much as he had, those little moans she’d made, the sweet bite of her nails against his back—
“No time like the present, darling.” She stunned him by rising on her toes, putting her arms around his neck, and whispering in his ear, “There’s plenty of time before breakfast.”
The memory faded, but this time it wasn’t poignant gratitude that it left in its wake but a bitterness that wouldn’t recede. Bile lingered in his throat, his hands clenching around the arms of the chair.
I adored you, thought you were my soulmate. Damn you for deceiving me. For making me the world’s biggest dupe.
“What is the matter with you, Blackwood?”
Carlisle’s words punctured his silent seething.
He pulled air into his lungs. “Nothing.”
“You look like you swallowed glass.”
“I’m tired. It was a long ride,” he said curtly.
“Which you took on horseback, without valet or belongings. No protection either—even with the risk of highwaymen lurking about.”
Perhaps he ought to have gone somewhere more welcoming. Perdition, for example.
“Never known you to pry,” he said, his jaw taut.
“Never known you to arrive unannounced on my doorstep looking like something the cat dragged in.”
“Thank you for your hospitality.” Marcus shoved up from his chair. “I’ll be on my way—”
“Don’t be a damned fool. Sit. If you don’t want to talk, fine.”
“Fine.” Marcus returned his arse to the seat, staring moodily into the flames.
After a moment, his host said, “How’s the lovely Lady Blackwood?”
“Devil take you, Carlisle.”
“Probably.” The viscount raised an inquisitive brow.
With his elbows on his knees, Marcus dragged his hands through his hair, tugging at his scalp. Suddenly, it was all too much for his alcohol-infused and sleep-deprived brain to contain.
“I’ve left her,” he blurted.
“Ah.” Carlisle didn’t sound too surprised. “Any particular reason?”
She was a bloody spy. Slept with three men that I know of. Lied to me—about everything… God, was our marriage a mere cover? A way for her to hide from her past?
His mind reeled, his gust twisting at the possibilities, all of them ugly. “Our relationship is based on a lie,” he said starkly.
“That’s marriage for you. Fidelity, death-do-us-part, promises to obey.” The other’s mouth had a cynical edge. “All vows meant to be broken.”
In his early thirties, Carlisle remained a stalwart bachelor.
