“You’ve made so much progress in a short time,” she soothed. “You must be patient. The rest will come back soon enough.”
“And if it doesn’t? What if I’m never again the man you were once married to? The husband and father I used to be?”
The vulnerability in his expression arrested her. Lines were carved around his mouth, his eyes stark as a winter’s night. The old Adam had been entirely self-composed. An island unto himself. But this Adam—the husband who was with her now—showed his emotions. He had fears, same as her. Heneededher, and the realization was accompanied by a shock of tenderness.
“Then we will simply have to get to know one another anew,” she said tremulously. “For better or worse.Those were the vows we exchanged on our wedding day.”
“I want to know you, Gabriella.” His baritone had a rough edge. “More than anything.”
On impulse, she reached out and touched his arm. “You may call me Gabby, if you prefer.”
“I do prefer it.” His hand closed over hers, his grip warm and strong. The smoldering need in his gaze shook her to the marrow. “Gabby, will you tell me about yourself…help me to remember who you are?”
He was asking for something he’d never asked of her before. The one thing that was more difficult than anything for her to give. She’d spent most of her life trying to hide, and now he was asking her to walk out into the light. Her heart pounded…yet she couldn’t look away from the yearning that transformed his austerity into something even more irresistible. Even more compelling.
He’s your husband, the man you love.
When he released her hand, she reached for her champagne and took a steadying sip.
With a tentative smile, she asked, “What do you wish to know?”
As Adam led Gabby up the stairs back to her room, he was cognizant of two facts.
The first was that his wife was more than a trifle disguised. In truth, he was at fault for her tipsy state: to ease her nervousness, he’d refilled her champagne time and again during supper. At first, she’d seemed reluctant to talk about herself, but once she got into the flow of conversation, she lost her self-consciousness bit by bit.
He’d led her along with questions. What was she like as a girl? What was her family like? What were her favorite hobbies?
Once she relaxed, he broached more intimate topics. How did the two of them meet? What was their courtship like and how did he propose to her? Who were her suitors before him? (Married or not, it was always good to know one’s competition.)
He’d listened in rapt fascination as, like the Persian queen in Max’s book, she wove a spell with her stories. Her accounts were so uniquelyher, sparkling with the colorful, artless gems of her observations. She was intelligent, amusing, and often self-deprecating. He’d had to hold back a snort when she described their first encounter as that of a sleek panther (him) coming upon a plump pigeon (her).
She spoke candidly of being the only child of a father who spent the bulk of his time at his bank. Adam’s chest tightened when she didn’t blame Billings for his absence butherselffor not being the son he’d wanted or an accomplished daughter. She described herself as a “carroty-haired, pudgy, and bran-faced” girl during her adolescence. Although she didn’t get into the details, other than to say that she “wasn’t popular” with her peers, he saw the pain in her expressive eyes.
He was beginning to see the source of his wife’s shyness. To understand that beneath her sweetness and self-effacing humor lay a core of aching insecurity. And he was rocked by a strong surge of protectiveness.
They reached the top step, and she stumbled, giggling. As he caught her against him, he thought grimly of the second conclusion he’d arrived at tonight.
The man he’d been in the past had been a rightarse.
Halfway through the second bottle of champagne, Gabriella had confided that they’dneverspoken like this before. That the “old Adam” had believed in moving forward and leaving the past where it was. And being “ever so honest,” he’d apparently told her from the start that he didn’t believe in sentimental notions of romantic love.
Flummoxed and disgusted in equal measure, he, the present Adam, couldn’t fathom spewing such nonsense. He’d only known Gabby for a month, and already he knew that she was a rare treasure. God’s blood, she was the kind of woman that any cove with the good fortune to find would hold onto with both hands and fight to the death to keep.
He’d taken a blow to the brains, but he stillhadbrains.
“This was ever so much fun.” Snuggled under his arm, Gabby smiled dreamily up at him. “We should do this more often. I don’t know why we haven’t.”
Because I used to be an ass, apparently?
How had he allowed her to harbor such misconceived notions about herself? A woman like Gabby should see herself as a queen. She should know that she was beautiful, one of a kind. And if she didn’t, then it was his damned duty as her husband to convince her of her worth. Just as she conveyedhisworth through her attention to his every need, her tenderness as she’d nursed him, and her unconcealed pride in him and his accomplishments.
He tucked her closer, guiding her to the door of her bedchamber. “We’ll do this as often as you like, sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart…that’s lovely.” Twin lines appeared at the inner edges of her eyebrows, making her look like a puzzled faerie. “You never used to call me endearments. You don’t prefer them.”
“Well, I prefer them now,” he said firmly.
He led her inside, where her maid was waiting.
