Ethan snorted. “That’s not an accomplishment.”
“It is too!”
“It isn’t. You don’t have to do anything to grow—it just happens.”
Owen’s cherubic face flushed. “I’m going to grow bigger thanyou. Then I’m going to beat you at wrestling and—”
“Boys.” Collecting herself, Pandora went over to join them. Softly, she said, “Don’t beleaguer your Papa when he’s only just arrived home.”
Marcus rose, his gaze cutting to hers. A vise gripped her heart. The warmth with which he’d greeted their children vanished. The eyes that met hers were cold and shuttered.
“Marcus,” she whispered.
“My lady.”
His response, chilly and formal, raised the hairs on her skin. At home, he always called her “Pandora” or “Penny,” the pet name he’d given her. In the past, he would greet her with a kiss, a touch, a gesture to show her that he’d missed her. Today, now, she was greeted with… nothing.
What did you expect? A loving welcome? Find a way to fix this.
Mindful of the children, she shaped her lips into a smile. “Boys, it’s time to start your lessons. You can visit with Papa at lunch.”
“ButMama,” the boys chorused in protest.
At least the three were in agreement upon something.
“Go on, now,” Marcus said. “I need to speak with your mother. I’ll see you all later.”
Reluctantly, their children tromped off, leaving them alone.
“We have to talk,” she began.
“My study,” her husband said curtly.
He turned, his back a wall to her as he led the way. She followed, her heartbeat measuring every step of the way. She sent up a desperate prayer.
God, if you can hear me, please let Marcus forgive me. I know I’m not good enough for him, but I vow I’ll change—turn over a new leaf, do anything at all—to win him back.
~~~
Marcus closed the door, sealing himself and his wife in the dark paneled room. He’d chosen his study because of the privacy it offered and because he conducted his business affairs there. Over the past fortnight, when his anger had finally abated somewhat, he’d come to the grim conclusion that he’d been far too gullible, too soft and trusting, when it came to his marriage. He’d been so smitten with Pandora that he’d let her run roughshod over him. From now on, he needed to approach his relationship with his wife the way he did other aspects of his life: with a cool head and unwavering authority.
He wouldn’t let himself be blinded by love. Not any longer.
At present, he was confronted with the unpleasant task of discerning the truth so that he could make decisions about the future.
He went to his desk. He leaned against the front edge, his boots planted solidly as he gazed down at her. Seated in a chair facing the desk, Pandora was as beautiful and sultry as ever, but she also looked… tired. There were smudges beneath her eyes, her cheekbones more prominent as if she’d lost weight. He steeled himself against concern, against her beseeching expression.
“Marcus, you have every right to be angry at me—” she began.
“Yes, I do.” It took willpower, but he managed to sound calm. “That is neither here nor there, however. The problem that lies before us is the future: that of our marriage and children.”
“If you can forgive me, I promise that I’ll do whatever—”
“You will be quiet and listen to me.”
At his tone, her indigo eyes went wide. Good. She needn’t think that she could manipulate him—as she’d apparently been doing for the entire length of their relationship. Icy fury gripped his gut. He’d no longer be her puppet, an unwitting toy in her games.
“I have questions to ask. You will answer them,” he said. “Based on your answers, I will decide upon our future. By the by, if I detect so much as a hint of a lie, I will begin divorce proceedings and scandal be damned. Do I make myself clear?”
