When he said nothing more, she said, “You didn’t really commiserate, did you?”
“Why are you so curious about our conversation?”
Uh-oh. Retreat.
“No particular reason,” she said.
“Hmm.” Hawk’s shrewd expression did not bode well.
Fi swiftly changed the subject. “I told my friends about our talk this morning. About my, well, insecurities.”
“And?” Hawk asked gently.
“It felt good to talk about it. They were surprised,” she mused. “I suppose I’m rather good at bluffing.”
Hawk tipped her chin up. “You never have to bluff with me.”
The truth pounded in her heart, quivered upon her lips.I am investigating a case of a missing woman. And I want to tell you all about it. But I’m afraid…so afraid you’ll try to stop me from doing what I love. But as soon as this case is over, I am going to tell you and pray that you won’t make me choose between my two greatest passions.
“I hope you feel the same way,” she said.
Longing and some other emotion she couldn’t name flashed through his eyes.
“I am more myself with you than I have been with anyone,” he said quietly.
“Including Caroline?”
Greeted by silence, she regretted her rash question. Regretted even more the flaw in her character that made her feel competitive with a ghost. Intellectually, she knew that his past marriage had no bearing on their present; it should be enough that Hawk was falling in love with her now. Yet she yearned to be the great love of his life. The way he was hers.
“I was a different man during my first marriage.”
His somber reply heightened her embarrassment.
“I am sorry. I shouldn’t have pried—”
“But you want to know. And I want you to have what you need,” he said steadily. “Without compromising Caroline’s privacy, I can say that I was an inexperienced lad when I first wed. I had a rather idealistic notion of love, and for a time I seemed to have found that in my marriage. But soon after we wed, Caroline developed…an ailment.”
“She was ill?” Fi asked in surprise.
This was the first that she’d heard of Caroline being in frail health.
Hawk gave a curt nod. “She didn’t like fuss and wanted it to be kept a private matter. Through no fault of her own, the illness worsened, making it difficult for her to participate in life and in our marriage. It frustrated both of us. I wanted badly to help, yet there was little either of us could do to change the situation. The so-called cures prescribed by physicians did nothing. Although I took care of her as best I could, her condition overwhelmed us both. When she died, I was ashamed of the relief I felt. The relief that her suffering was over. That…that my caretaking was over.” He let out a harsh breath. “To this day, I bear guilt for not having done more for her.”
“Knowing you, you did everything you could. You were a good husband to Caroline, and neither of you deserved the hand you were dealt.” Hating the lingering pain in his eyes, Fi said wretchedly, “Forgive me. I should not have dredged up the past. It is small of me, I know, to make comparisons—”
“I understand.” Hawk caressed her cheek, his easy acceptance of her faults making her eyes sting. “To answer the question I think you’re truly asking: what I felt for Caroline was a different kind of love than what I feel for you. It was a young man’s love, tempered by disappointment and guilt. After the experience, I did not want to open my heart again.”
Fi nodded, understanding now why he’d agreed to a marriage of convenience. Knowing Hawk—how protective he was—it must have killed him to be powerless to stop his wife’s suffering, which sounded like it had gone on for years. No wonder he’d wanted to avoid intimacy again.
“But you came along.” His features were fierce with emotion. “With your courage and boldness and saucy proposition of marriage. I did not think I had anything left to give—especially not to a spirited young chit pursued by every bachelor in town—but you showed me otherwise. Showed me what it is like to have a partner in passion and in life. I did not think I would love again; I never thought I would find the love of my life.”
“Oh, Hawk.” Emotion clogged her throat. “You are everything to me.”
He bent his head and kissed her. A joining that went beyond lips and tongues, that melded souls. When they broke apart, they were both panting.
“About your earlier suggestion that I enjoy myself this eve.” His gaze molten, he wound one of her ringlets around his finger. “I realize that I haven’t yet made love to you in a carriage. An oversight I intend to rectify.”
With a flush of embarrassment and regret, she said, “I’m afraid I can’t tonight.”
