Page 64

Her disdain and rejection was like a crawling, growing monster under my skin.

If I could only get her alone. . . if I could only talk to her without Hugo there. . .

As I prowled around the outskirts, my eyes sharp for any vulnerabilities, I saw it.

If I let myself down the cliff, if I could find the handholds, I could make my way under the iron gates and then climb back up once I was past them. And then I’d be inside the grounds.

There was a lot better security than I had expected here. That must be my brother’s doing. What was his goal here?

I waited until nightfall, every muscle in my body aching to move as my soaked clothes dried to my skin. The last thing I wanted was for my officious brother to interfere.

Lucky for Hugo that he never came outside, because I would have been tempted to strangle him with my bare hands.

What exactly was their relationship?

It was impossible for any other man to threaten what Léonie and I had. Even though I had wronged her, with our love for each other, we could work through it.

Unless. . .

This time. . . I’d gone too far.

When it was dark, I swung down the cliff face, waves crashing against the beach below, then moved carefully under the fence and pulled myself up on the other side.

I crept to the house, carefully feeling where the best handholds were, and I began to climb, pressing my body against the stones, moving carefully so I wouldn’t slip.

Léonie wasn’t anywhere on the first floor, and I had to traverse the entire second floor to find her, trying to control my breathing, but when I reached her balcony I couldn’t help it, inhaling her mountain-sweet scent in massive gulps of air.

Peering through the window, I saw the shape of my wife in the bed, the curve of her waist a seductive pull in the moonlight.

She was so trusting, sleeping with such peace on her face that my stomach wrenched to see the damn outline of the léger still written on her forehead.

What the hell had I been thinking? I needed to take that off.

The lock was easy to break, quietly, silently, and I crept forward, my fingers outstretched toward her. I was going to rub that hateful mark off her forehead.

But before I was able to touch her, to my shock Léonie rolled over to face me.

Her expression was completely blank and cold.

“How—"

“It was very reckless of you to come here. But I knew you would. Because you’re reckless. With everything that matters.”

For a moment I was completely stunned. I would have put money on the fact that she was sleeping.

There were depths to my wife that I knew nothing about. . .

But I fucking craved knowing them.

The thin little strap of her tiny nightie fell off her shoulder, and I bent over her anxiously.

“Let me explain, Léonie! Goddamn it, I know I fucked up! Let me get that damn mark off! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

She backed away, one hand on her belly, the other connecting with my thigh.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch me, Étienne!”

I stood there foolishly with my hands dangling, blood throbbing in my cock at the feeling of being so close to my wife after days of feverishly searching for her.