Leonie went up the stairs ahead of him. She limped slightly as if she’d hurt her foot in the ruckus. Well, the next time, she should put on shoes. Then he noticed she had one shoe on. The other was probably on the floor downstairs.
He uncorked the bottle and took a healthy swig for himself.
His wife looked back and caught him. The small worry line between her brows that marked when she was uncertain was there.
As it should be.
She reached the door first.
“It is open,” he said.
Leonie went inside.
He stopped and stood for a moment, staring at the open door.
What sort of hell had he entered?
Less than an hour ago he’d believed himself the most fortunate of men. Now he feared his wife would be an iron weight around his life. He’d opened his heart to her.
She had the power to pull him down, defeat him... she’d almost done it once.
He could not let that happen.
Roman walked into the room, shut the door, and locked it.
Leonie was horrified at almost being raped again, and ashamed. Oh, yes, so very shamed.
But all would be fine. Roman had rescued her and she would learn from this lesson. She didn’t like gin at all and she shouldn’t have been where she was. However, she would apologize and praise him and vow never to wander off again in that manner.
She walked straight to the washbasin. There was water in the bowl from when she’d prepared herself for bed. She did not look at herself in the glass hanging on the wall. She couldn’t. She knew she looked a fright with her runny nose and with bruises swelling her face. The roots of her hair hurt where that monster had tried to drag her out of the inn. She’d like nothing better than to crawl into bed and pretend nothing happened.
Still, she owed Roman an apology and an explanation.I only went downstairs for a moment of privacy...
That was true. She’d say that.
He lit a candle off the dying coals. Light filled the room.
Leonie forced a smile on her face without meeting her eye in the mirror. The cut by her lip hurt. A wall of tears threatened to overtake her. She struggled to hold them back. Roman would not admire her blubbering. She prepared to turn—
“I believed you when you said you drank to excess at our marriage ceremony because you were frightened of the wedding night. That you had to erase the memory of what Paccard did to you, but that wasn’t true, was it, Leonie? You just drink.”
Leonie forgot excuses. She faced her husband, her hand holding the towel dropping to her side.
“I do have bad memories of Arthur.” Couldn’t he see how her life had been affected?He, of all people, should understand because he had come to her rescue that night... as well as this one—
Her own culpability stunned her into silence.
Roman lifted the bottle he held in his hand. Even from here she caught a whiff of that tantalizing, sweet spiciness and felt a familiar yearning.
Her husband’s gaze watched her.He knew.
“Your hands shook slightly earlier,” he explained as if he knew what she was thinking. “I thought you had some maidenly apprehension about tonight. I didn’t want to believe there could be another reason.”
“Iwasapprehensive.” Her mouth had gone dry. It hurt to speak. Or was that because of the tightness in her chest?Everything will be all right, she told herself.Just smile.
But everything wasn’t going to be all right and both she and Roman knew it.
“What are you going to do?” she dared to ask.
