“It’s a vow,” she said, hating what her confession would most likely do to the bond they’d just forged.
“What sort of vow?” His voice was low, a touch thinner than usual.
“It doesn’t matter,” she tried. Turning onto her back she reached for him, attempted to pull him down for a kiss, desperate to somehow distract him from what could only be a destructive conversation.
“Considering the fact that you’ve whispered it every night since we left London, I’d like to argue that point.” Pulling back, further away from her, he sat. And then he asked, in a voice devoid of emotion, “Have you been pledging yourself to Timothy while I’ve been lying right there, in the next bed?”
Put that way, anyone would think her the worst sort of person in the world. And all she could think to say was, “I’m sorry.”
There was a pause, a moment of brief hesitation, and then he was on his feet and dressed. She’d no clue how he managed to accomplish the task so swiftly without light to guide him. Under different circumstances, she would have stopped to admire the skill, but at this moment, all she could focus on was the rising panic. It reached inside her and grabbed her heart, squeezing it until she gasped with despair.
“What are you doing?”
“I need to think.”
“Devlin, I—”
“Don’t!”
She shrank back. The anger infusing that one simple word was like a shot fired straight at her breast.
“Dev…”
She’d hurt him. She’d known she would the moment she chose to be honest. But she hadn’t expected this – hadn’t thought he’d react with quite so much vehemence toward her.
“You are my wife, Cass. A vow was made in church. To me. Me! And by God I’ve tried to be patient and understanding with you. Hell, I never expected you to love me. Not after you told me I shouldn’t hold out any hope of ever sharing your bed or even a kiss for that matter. But now we’ve had this – a moment I hoped for but never dreamed possible – and you’re telling me that all the while we’ve been married, you’ve deliberately stopped yourself from even giving us a chance?”
“No. It’s not like that.”
“Then how is it, Cass?”
How could she possibly explain what her heart had been forced to endure or the pain she’d suffered every morning when she’d woken and remembered Timothy no longer lived, that another day had passed to increase the distance between them? And how could she make Devlin see that she’d finally found the strength to try and move on without him wondering if she was merely pretending?
“I’ve been saying that vow for thirteen years.”
He responded with a disdainful snort. “How wonderfully reassuring.”
“But I haven’t said it since you kissed me. The other night on the deck. I haven’t said it since then because it felt wrong.”
There was a pause and for a second she believed she’d managed to persuade him that she considered Timothy to be her past and Devlin to be her future.
But then he told her with nothing but bitterness lacing his words, “Of course it did. After all, you were being unfaithful to him.”
“Devlin please. Let’s—”
The door opened, then promptly slammed shut as he quit the cabin, leaving her alone and miserable in the dark.
God damn her!
Devlin could not recall the last time he’d been so furious. Perhaps when he’d walked away from his father and never looked back? No, even then he’d not felt this blinding rage, this need to destroy something with his bare hands. Because it wasn’t anger alone that was wreaking havoc on him, but the hurt she’d caused him. After sharing the most spectacular evening together, she’d practically reached for a dagger and sliced him open.
Gnashing his teeth, he stomped his way up to the main deck and muttered a few cutting words of greeting to the crew he found there. They seemed to sense his dark mood without any problem and quickly removed themselves to the parts of the deck where he wasn’t. Shoulders tense, he walked to the side of the ship and looked out across the ink-black water. If he could only bring Timothy back from his grave and punch him, Devlin reckoned he’d feel a touch better.
Gripping the railing, he muttered a curse he’d not uttered in years. She was his wife, for God’s sake, and yes, he’d practically coerced her into marrying him, but given their history, he’d thought she’d at least make an effort. What he hadn’t imagined was for her to do the exact opposite. And why the devil did he care so bloody much?
His heart thumped, forcing a new revelation to the front of his mind.
He shook his head. No. He couldn’t possibly be jealous of a dead man, could he?
