He tasted her tears upon her cheek.
She’d been giving, but also quiet, and now he understood why.
However, God help him, he could not stop. Not now.
Gavin drove both of them then. He was demanding and hard. She must trust him. He would do all he could for her. She needed to have faith in him . . . and yet, he, too, knew this would not work.
Some women flaunted their independence. They didn’t need the solace of husbands or lovers. Sarah was not one of them.
In turn, there were men who easily separated the threads of their lives. They had no difficulty giving pieces of themselves to many others and appeared at peace with the matter.
Gavin was not that sort. Nor should Sarah accept a lesser place in his life.
He recognized the fact as he felt her release and carried her with him on his own. This was no mere act of animal mating. It never had been for the two of them. When Gavin held her, when he was this connected to her, it was as if their souls merged. They were one.
In this moment of complete fulfillment, he understood her almost better than he did himself.
For long moments, they held each other.
And then she said, “I shall shut down the play.”
“No, it opens tomorrow evening. You can’t stop now. Your play is important.”
She was quiet, and then whispered, “No, Gavin, nothing is important now.”
“Trust me, Sarah.” It was his last plea.
She turned to him then. “I can’t be that other woman, Gavin. I know what that life is like and I won’t live it.”
He sat up abruptly, ran a hand through his hair. His heart was a heavy stone in his chest. He knew she had made up her mind.
She didn’t say a word as he dressed.
He stood at the foot of the bed, waiting for her to call him back, and knowing she wouldn’t. The mattress they shared now appeared cold and empty save for her glorious hair spread across the pillow.
“You will open the play,” he said. “It is your future, Sarah. You must take the chance.”
On those words, he left.
As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard the sound of her crying. His strong, resilient Sarah. She was broken.
And yet, she would survive. They both would. They had no choice.
He left the house as if the hounds of hell were after him, and perhaps they were.
Chapter Eighteen
Gavin did not go home to Menheim. Instead, he walked. There was an hour or so before dawn but time had ceased to matter. He didn’t even care where he traveled.
Eventually, he found himself in front of his club. He went inside, nodded to the steward, and made his way to the dining room. He had some idea to break his fast. He wasn’t hungry but he knew he must go through the motions.
Today would be a long day. There were his usual duties, and then, of course, he would attend Sarah’s play. He’d purchased the most expensive box in the theater. She’d wanted to give it to him for free, but he’d insisted on paying.
She might have protested further; however, her friend Lady Baldwin, herself a former actress, was managing the seat tickets. She’d been happy to accept Gavin’s money.
Now, he didn’t know how he was going to live through the evening. He’d been seated close to the stage. He’d be able to see her every gesture and know that she was leaving him.
He would do it for Sarah. Their liaison was so well known, his not being there would be noticed. Her play should not suffer because of their personal relationship.
