“I’d rather you not take that chance.”
“But you would be there.” She reached out, laying a hand on his chest. He stiffened. Persephone forced herself to stay as she was, despite the disappointment she felt at his apparent displeasure. Why had he grown so suddenly distant? Had she only imagined him warming to her, at least a little?
“That is no guarantee—”
Something about that admission, about the vulnerability in his voice, tugged at her heart. She tipped her head up and laid a soft kiss on his lips. He didn’t pull away but didn’t seem to be returning the gesture. Hoping against hope that he wasn’t as disinterested as he seemed, Persephone reached up and touched his face with her hand.
Fast as a flash of lightning, Adam had hold of her wrist and pulled her hand from his face. She stepped back from him, surprised but mostly disappointed.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, hurting at his rejection of her affections.
Adam released her wrist and turned away. “The bath should help,” he muttered as he walked away. “And the ointment.”
“Adam,” Persephone called after him.
He didn’t turn back.
Persephone sighed. Obviously she’d misinterpreted his concern. She’d most certainly misunderstood his kiss the day before. He’d kissed her with what she’d falsely interpreted as tender feeling. That he didn’t welcome her kisses had just been made painfully obvious.
In those brief moments when Adam had held her after her accident, Persephone had felt stirrings of affection. But he’d pushed her away. She didn’t understand him, didn’t know what to think about Adam, about their marriage.
She’d always thought that affection would grow between them. She’d hoped that the tenderness she’d seen in him just moments before would remain. Instead he’d grown distant and cold. She’d taken a risk and reached out to him, only to be rejected.
It wasn’t in her nature to give up entirely, but for the life of her she couldn’t help feeling discouraged.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adam threw off his blanket and sat up in bed. The wolves had been howling for nearly an hour. Where the deuce was Persephone?
He got out of bed. She ought to have come in already. She’d never waited so long before. Adam crossed to the connecting door but turned back without touching the handle. He was being ridiculous. Persephone was probably sleeping.
She hadn’t come down to dinner. Maybe her fall had been more serious then he’d realized. Adam crossed back to the door again but stopped directly in front of it.
If Persephone wanted to come in, she would have. She certainly wouldn’t want him going into her room. Adam shook his head and stormed back to his bed.
“Ridiculous,” he snapped at himself, flinging himself down.
Adam closed his eyes, determined to fall asleep. But he couldn’t clear his thoughts of Persephone. Gad, she’d scared him half out of his wits. He and Harry had been back from their ride for a quarter of an hour, and instead of going straight to the castle like he should have, Adam had stayed to watch Persephone ride.
He’d been impressed seeing her on a more difficult mount than Atlas. Then that blasted horse had thrown her. Adam didn’t think he’d ever run as fast in all his life. When she didn’t get up right away, he’d panicked.
What a sap he’d turned out to be. He should have handed her over to one of the grooms, should have kept his distance like he’d told himself he would. But he’d been worried.
Adam opened his eyes again. ’Twould be pointless to pretend he was going to sleep. Persephone was cutting up his peace. Seeing her lying still on the ground of the paddock had been more unsettling than the letter he’d received about Harry’s illness. It had been more panic-inducing than the dream he still remembered so vividly about the wolves.
She’d kissed him.Shehad kissedhim. At first he’d been too surprised to do anything but stand there, smelling her. Then she’d touched him. Touched those blasted, bloody scars, exactly the way Mother always had when he was little. She would run a finger down the longest one, the one that followed his jaw. “My poor boy,” she’d say.
Adam wanted no one’s pity.
“I’m sorry,” Persephone had said. She might as well have offered a “my poor boy.” A man comes to his wife’s aid after she’s thrown from a horse, and what does he get in return? Pity. He’d all but carried her back to the house, but Persephone didn’t see him as her champion. All Persephone saw were the scars.
“It is too blasted quiet in here,” Adam grumbled, sitting up again.
A howl sounded outside. Adam watched the door. It didn’t open.
“This is ridiculous.” Adam got to his feet again. He couldn’t sleep, and he knew deuced well it was because Persephone wasn’t there.
He hadn’t had insomnia since childhood. The first few weeks after Mother had moved to London, he hadn’t been able to sleep. Nothing Nurse Robbie said or did had helped. He’d eventually learned to force himself to sleep—not an easy feat for a six-year-old.
