Page 50 of Mercy in Betrayal

I’ll make it up to her.

When we were growing up, Carina often acted as irrationally as Rowan is now. I dealt with her emotions in the same way—giving her space. I used to tell Francis I wasn’t walking into the lion’s den; he would laugh and tell me not to let her hear me say that. He could walk into the den and bring out a lamb, though. He had a way with her that I didn’t.

I empty my brandy and glance out the window. The snow has stopped falling, and there is a view of the falls. A huge sinkhole that makes the world disappear beyond it. There’s no way Carina could possibly have known what Luca did. She loved Francis so fiercely.

She’ll thank me when she’s no longer Carina Marzano but Carina Scarpetta again.

Rowan has fallen silent, and I rise slowly, wondering if she’s fallen asleep on the tiled floor. I walk to the door and pause, listening for activity. There’s nothing.

Gently, I raise my hand and knock. A rustle of movement answers me.

“It’s stopped snowing,” I say.

“So?” Her voice echoes low and near, ripe with belligerence. She must be sitting on the floor with her back to the door. Is she trying to keep me out? I breathe a huff of laughter at the idea. She knows she can’t keep me out.

I keep my tone calm. Soothing.

“You’re mad at me. I get it. I’d hate for you to miss this view, though. It’s pretty spectacular.”

Nothing.

“Up to you,” I finally say, slapping my palm against the door. “You shouldn’t cut off your nose to spite your face, though.” I walk away and return to my chair. My hand hovers over the decanter as I consider a refill, but in the end I leave it alone.

I hear her moving around now. I turn my gaze to the window and take in the falls as the door opens. I don’t move my focus as Rowan, with small steps, makes her way to the window. She folds her arms across her chest in a defensive gesture, but nothing can hide the look of pure awe on her face.

I watch her take in the falls. All her earlier anger and fear slowly evaporates from her features, fine-boned but puffy with her tears as she soaks in the view on the other side of the glass. I get out of my chair, moving cautiously as her shoulders stiffen at my proximity. I stand close to her but not too close.

“Do you want to see more of it?” I ask.

A small smile snatches the corners of her mouth before she arranges her features in a frown again. “I’d love to see it when they open.”

My heart thumps at the unexpected smile, and I turn away in annoyance. “Then get dressed.”

“What? Why?” She looks at me for the first time since stepping out of the bathroom, her blue eyes sparkling with greed for knowledge.

“I can show you now.”

She hesitates. “This doesn’t change anything.”

My lip crooks upward. “Just get dressed.”

Done protesting, she moves away to do so.

She comes back out of the bathroom in a green coat that hangs to her knees. The lambswool will keep her warm, along with the wooly gloves and hat in her hands. Her red locks spill like flame across her shoulders, and I have to restrain myself from clearing the distance between us and pulling it through my fingers while I press her mouth to mine.

I won’t hold back for long. She is, after all, my wife.

Turning resolutely away, I collect my coat, scarf, and gloves. “Come on.”

We leave the hotel, the bounce in Rowan’s step that she tries to subdue making me smile. When we leave the hotel’s sidewalk, I reach across and take her gloved hand. After a brief resistance, she relaxes, leaving her hand in mine.

A small outbuilding located right beside the falls conceals the entrance to a tunnel that runs behind the falls. The door has been left open for me, and when I turn the knob, I see another flare of curiosity and excitement in Rowan’s gaze.

I love that she can’t stay angry for long.

It's two in the morning, the area bereft of people and activity. A single light burns inside to illuminate our way, and I keep my grip on Rowan’s hand once the door closes behind us. She reaches up with the other to pull the wool hat from her head, sending a few melting snowflakes to the floor as she shakes her hair out.

I find myself staring as she peers around. Her beauty is rare, almost as much as the falls themselves. Natural and unaffected, with her pale skin and the bright contrast of her hair and eyes.

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