I’m with Marcus. I’m safe.
“After Waterloo, I used to have dreams.” His voice rumbled beneath her ear. Easy and conversational. Lulling. “Bad ones. Of battle. Remember the time I woke you during our wedding trip?”
She’d forgotten, but the memory came back.
“Here, in this bed,” she managed.
“Yes. I woke up terrified. Of the dream, but mostly of scaring you. Of the fact that my bride of five days might think me a lunatic.”
“I didn’t think that.”
“No, you didn’t.” He stroked her hair, his touch as warm and reassuring as his voice. “What you did was hold me and make me talk about it. You listened and never judged. You did that every time I had a nightmare, and eventually, I stopped having them.”
Her pulse sped up; she knew where this was headed.
“Trust me to do the same for you, love,” he said.
“I… I’m scared.”
“Of the dream?”
“Yes. But more so…”—her voice cracked against the hard core of it—“of what you’ll think. Of me.”
“Nothing can change that. You’re my love, my Penny, and you’ll always be.”
“I almost lost you. I don’t want to risk that again—”
“Darling, you couldn’t lose me in Covent Garden on market day.”
That made her lift her head. “That’s not true. If I hadn’t kidnapped you, you might be with Cora Ashley. Our marriage would still be in danger—”
“Hell, Penny, is that what you think?” His eyes radiated genuine disbelief. “I would never go to Cora Ashley—or any other woman for that matter. You’re the only one for me. I’ve told you that.”
He had, in fact. Repeatedly.
At the time, she’d known his assurances were genuine, and she’d believed them… hadn’t she? Confusion and shame rippled through her.Why is it so hard for me to believe?
He sat them both up against the pillows so that they were facing each other. Holding her hands in his, he said, “I acted like a bastard because I was hurt. That doesn’t excuse how I treated you, and you have my word that I’ll do my utmost not to lash out at you like that again. But you must know this: even if my faith in our marriage suffered a brief crisis, my love for you never faltered.”
“How could it not?” she blurted. “I hid the fact that I was a spy. That I… I wasn’t a virgin.”
Instinct made her brace herself. She watched his expression, waiting for it to harden.
It didn’t.
Instead, his gaze unwavering, he said, “I slept with over a dozen women before I met you, Penny. Thirteen, to be exact. Did you know that?”
She didn’t. “No.”
“Are you going to hold it against me?”
“Of course not.”
“Did you sleep with anyone after we met on the Pilkingtons’ balcony?”
“No,” she said cautiously.
“What about after our very first meeting—Christmas at the camp?”
