Page 53

“My sweet.” He smoothed her hair back from her face. “I fully intend to exhaust us both, despite knowing neither of us will be at our sharpest for tomorrow’s negotiations. But before I do...” he drew back. “Tell me. What frightened you?”

He trailed a knuckle down her cheek when her gaze grew distant. “You were prepared to surrender your hard-won autonomy over the yard. That is no small thing for anyone. But for you...” He shook his head. “It’s an untenable sacrifice.”

Gwen stiffened beneath him, so he shifted onto his side, studying her face. Waiting for her to let him in. Her lashes lowered, and guilt curled sickly in his stomach at having fractured such a perfect moment. But he could not have left this untouched. It was only too clear that she had not invited his partnership out of some sudden change of heart. Fear had driven her there.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” he offered, keeping his tone deliberately light. “Certainly Lionel would not protest were you to meet with him on your own tomorrow. And when you’re finished, and he’s all but begging you to build his ships, I’ll be waiting at home, eager for every detail.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed, and when she finally met his gaze, she looked every bit as guilty as he felt.

He frowned. “What is it, my pet?”

“I’m afraid I owe you an apology.” She bit her lower lip, and Michael had to restrain himself from kissing the teeth marks away. “I didn’t mean to listen, exactly. I was on my way to my chambers to lie down... It was wrong of me to intrude upon your privacy. I only wished to ensure...”

Her voice faltered, but he had no difficulty supplying the words she could not.

She’d wanted to ensure he was keeping his nose out of her yard… hadn’t trusted him enough to simply accept his word and walk away, and yet she cared enough about his feelings that she was reluctant to admit her lack of faith in him. That mattered as well.

He nodded his understanding. “You were handed a tactical advantage and you took it.”

Her actions, cast in that accurate but perhaps unflattering light, made her cheeks flame red, confirming his suspicion. Michael’s eyes tracked the colour as it climbed from her throat to her jaw, then her cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured.

But how could he be angry with her for the fears he’d planted? Not when he understood better than anyone how uncomfortable it was to offer trust, even under the best of circumstances. It would take time to rebuild the faith he’d squandered, but he was prepared to wait however long it took. He would never ask for more than he deserved.

Michael took her chin between his finger and thumb, redirecting her gaze so she could see for herself that he was not upset. He could not, however, recall exactly what he’d said to Smythe that night that would have led her to believe he was unhappy—with her, with their marriage, or with the limited role he played in the yard.

“Truly. I understand entirely, and you needn’t worry. But which part, exactly, convinced you to offer me a permanent reprieve from sanding ship hulls?” He arched a brow. “Was it the part where I told Smythe I was more content than I’d ever been? That I found your competence… intoxicating? Or the part where I said that no amount of money or inducement would persuade me to turn from my wife or the life I’m building with her?”

Her lips parted, then closed again. “I didn’t actually hear that part.”

He chuckled, running a hand over his face. “Well, I suppose you have now.” He met her pleased smile with a bemused smirk of his own. “What then? Something Smythe said? He’s an idiot.”

Whatever pleasure his confession had wrought drained from her face. “Idiot or not, he knows you well, I think.”

“In some ways, I suppose.”

“In this way, I think. You may be content now, but…” She looked away, and this time he let her. “But Michael, you’re accustomed to a certain degree of challenge in your work. And if you’re forced to spend your days watching from the docks with nothing meaningful to occupy yourself while I…” Her voice trailed away.

She pressed her lips together, then looked back at him. “Eventually, you’ll resent it all. Coming here. The shipyard… Me.”

Promises would be meaningless in the absence of proof, so he bit back the urge to reassure her. Instead, Michael tucked her close and stared at the ceiling, giving her concerns the same careful consideration he would in any business negotiation.

Hers was not an illogical conclusion to reach. Michael had, after all, never been content to while away his days without meaningful occupation and she had no way of knowing that the companies he owned were more than merely passive investments. It was past time to lay open the pages of his ledger and let her read her fill.

“I own three businesses apart from the ventures Smythe and I share. I think I’ve mentioned them before in passing.”

“Indeed, you have… while trying to convince me that Llanelli would be in capable hands with Lord Michael at the helm.”

He flashed her an unrepentant grin.

“Lord Michael is rather well liked by his employees. I’ve no doubt the yard would have found him perfectly tolerable.”

“Can we please stop referring to you in the third person?”

“You started it.”

She blew out a breath that sent the wisps of her hair fluttering.