Why should she assume he suffered from anything more than wounded pride? He had essentially bought her.
He only knew that he did suffer. And though the church, the law, and his vows said she was his, he realized he hardly felt he had the right to his own suffering.
His pride had stopped him from telling her how thoroughly, swiftly, unreasonably she had conquered him because he’d never wanted to see anything like pity in her eyes.
And now he was glad he’d never told her. Because that left him a shred of pride.
“I would caution you against attempting to tell me that man is nothing to you.”
“No.” Her voice was frayed. “I can’t say that. But I ended it with him the moment I accepted your proposal. He is my past. Iswearto you.”
“He knows you are married?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.” It was a whisper.
He could see the pulse beating in her creamy throat. He’d imagined laying his lips there tonight, in bed, as he made love to her for the first time. As he showed her the pleasures that could be had from the joining of their bodies.
Would she have been imagining this man instead?
He could not believe this woman he’d so admired—whom, despite all his wisdom to the contrary, he’d elevated to a sort of pedestal—had stood up in church next to him and taken a vow this afternoon, only to break it hours later.
“How long has this affair been—”
“Half a year. It was over before we were wed, I swear it. I made certain of it. I do not think... I do not even think I would call it an affair. We never made plans of any kind. We never intended to... I never intended to...”
“Perhaps you have a different definition of ‘over’ than I do. Is it your first affair, or do you make a habit of kissing men in the garden?” he said relentlessly.
She jerked as though he’d slapped her.
“First,” she said hoarsely. Giving up.
“Has he done more than kiss you? Has he made love to you?”
Scarlet rushed her cheeks. “No.Never.” She sounded hoarsely horrified. “He has never before even kissed me. I swear on my life. How can you think... No! He has never kissed mebefore tonight. I have never kissed anyone before tonight.”
He stared at her in rank amazement. He’d just caught her in a clinch in which she’d participated enthusiastically.That’show he could “think.”
But he believed her. He knew exactly what he’d seen: her shock.
Followed by her ardent capitulation.
And then...
And then her grief.
He would never have known he’d married a woman who was grieving another man.
How well, how stoically, she had hidden this.
He understood he was being hateful simply to punish her. He was tormenting her because there was no other place to put his fury or pain. He hadn’t known himself capable of it. He despised the sort of man who lashed out rather than planned or resolved.
He pulled in an involuntary breath as he recalled her fingers touching that man’s face so tenderly. He didn’t think he would ever forget it.
Another heartbroken man was out there in the dark.
“Magnus...”
