“What is going on?” he asked Sinclair as he set the letter behind him on the desk and glared at the intruder to his home.
“No, I think you’ll answer my questions before I answer yours,” Sinclair said, taking an unoffered seat before Duncan’s fire.
Duncan let out a long sigh and joined him, even though it felt like he was coming out of his skin. “What?” he snapped.
“What are your intentions with Hannah?” he asked.
Duncan shook his head. “Intentions? You’re a little late for that, Sinclair. I married the woman.”
“Do you love her? Could you?” Sinclair leaned forward and draped his elbows over his knees.
“You and I don’t know each other like that,” Duncan said through gritted teeth.
“Then call me Rowan and answer the question,” Sinclair said. “Because I won’t answer yours until you answer mine.”
Duncan felt a strong desire to punch the man across from him square in his handsome face. Still, he doubted that would get him answers about Hannah so he held back.
“I love her,” he said simply. “I want to make her happy. I want to make her mine. Not just with a piece of paper filed by the church, not by taking her to my bed. I want to make her mine and to be hers.” He folded his arms. “Happy?”
“Not exactly. But you certainly earned the answer to your earlier question,” Sinclair said softly. “Hannah showed up at my home a few hours ago, utterly hysterical. Apparently she found some note between you and an old mistress. You met with Vanessa Grant today, didn’t you?”
Duncan stared at him as those words sunk in. Those awful, terrible words. “Y-yes. She saw the note?”
He’d found it on his desk when he returned and burned it. He hadn’t even been thinking that Hannah might have come into his study. Seen it. That it could have hurt her.
“She did,” Sinclair sighed. “Here’s the truth: she loves you.”
Duncan jolted at that rifle blast to the heart. “She does?”
Sinclair rolled his eyes. “She wouldn’t be sobbing in my parlor right now if she didn’t. And you say that you love her. And you’re both so wary of the other, both so afraid of getting hurt that you’ve avoided telling each other that. And now sheishurt. So much so that I think she is considering not coming back at all.”
“No,” Duncan whispered. “No, no, no. Shemustcome back. I did go see Vanessa, but I have no interest in her.”
“Save it for your wife, mate,” Rowan said, raising a hand. “Save it all for your wife. Who I will help you see. Because this foolishness cannot go on another night.”
“You would do that?” Duncan said.
Sinclair nodded. “Not a year ago, I almost lost Sophie because I did something foolish, something that bordered on cruel when I began it. If I had…” He trailed off with a shudder. “If I can help, I’m going to do so. Now go get changed and let’s go. It’s going to take a great deal to sneak you into my house without my wife seeing you and committing murder before you can convince Hannah to forgive you.”
Duncan moved toward him, still stunned by this turn of events. “Can I convince her?” he asked.
“If you’re honest,” he said softly.
“Thank you, Rowan,” Duncan said, extending his hand. “If I can pull this off I’ll owe you my life.”
“Pull it off first and then we can talk about repayment.”
Duncan let out a shuddering breath before he hurried from the room to change and ready himself for the most important meeting he would ever take part in in his life. The one where he might win his wife. Or lose her forever.
* * *
Hannah trudged into the lovely guest chamber at the end of Sophie and Rowan’s hall and made her way to the bed at the other side of the room. She didn’t even want to ring the bell for her maid. She just wanted to collapse and sink into oblivion. Not that she thought sleep would come.
“Dratted man,” she muttered beneath her breath.
“Tell me all about it,” said a voice behind her.
She pivoted to find Duncan sitting in the chair by the fire across the room. As she staggered back a step, he stood, outlined in firelight. Almost not real as he stared at her.
