Page 416 of The Christmas Wife

I release my hold on her hand and place it back on the wheel.It was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it, but how can I tell her that? When we’re beginning to establish the foundations of a fragile trust that we’ll need if we're going to build this marriage? No, I shouldn’t tell her the truth behind what happened yet. Not until I’m sure she’ll never leave me.

"I met you and knew you were the one. Okay, not me, but my subconscious knew. And I fought it because I was all set for an arranged marriage, after all. But when my father said he wanted me to marry you, I knew it was a sign. All the pieces were falling into place. Of course, it had to be you to run my father’s company. It was always you, Eddie."

I’m aware of her gaze on my profile, of the yearning in her features, of the love that shines in her eyes and, like a coward, I don’t turn. If I do, I'll be lost. If I do,allwill be lost. If I do, I’ll have to confess to her everything that I set in place to bring us here. And I’m not ready yet.She’snot ready yet. I need to find a way to tie her to me, so she’ll never leave. I need some kind of assurance that when I share the extent of my machinations, shewon’t have a choice but to look past it. I need a guarantee, but what?

The silence stretches. I’m aware when she finally turns to look forward. She places her hands in her lap. A few more miles pass, we pass a road sign, she looks at it, then turns to me. "We’re going to Cornwall?"

"Penzance." I nod.

"I’ve always wanted to go there," she exclaims.

"It’s one of my favorite places," I murmur.Another thing I’ve never told anyone. See, I’m sharing more of myself.

"The scenery is so beautiful." She gazes at the forests we’re passing by. We’ve been driving steadily since we left London. After we cross East Devon, I turn onto a B road, and the scenery grows more wild, more untamed. There’s a ruggedness and yet, a desolation, to the terrain that resonates with that darkness I’m no longer able to hide.

I glance toward her. "It is."

She turns, and our eyes meet.

"I want you to know, I’m on birth control. I decided to get a prescription when I realized we were getting married."

Something streaks across the corner of my vision. I hit the brakes, turn to face forward, and the car screeches to a halt. The impact throws me against my seatbelt. I know she’s wearing her seatbelt because I checked before we left, but it doesn’t stop me from throwing my arm out in front of her.

There’s another flash of white as the rabbit disappears into the undergrowth.

"You okay?" I turn to find the color has leached from her features. Her shoulders tremble. I unhook my seatbelt, reach over and take her in my arms. "You’re good. I’ll never let anything happen to you."

She nods against my shoulder. "Wh-what happened?"

"A rabbit ran across the road. I stopped in time."

"Oh, thank god." She burrows deeper into my chest. I tuck her head under my chin and breathe in her scent. My heart thunders in my chest, echoing hers.

"I’m glad you didn’t hit it," she says softly.

"You sure you’re okay?"

"Yes." Her voice sounds steadier. I hold her for a few seconds more, then release her and scrutinize her features.

"I promise, I’m fine." She half smiles.

I reach for the bottle of water and hold it out. She takes it from me, screws open the top, and takes a sip. Some of the water slips down her chin, and before I can stop myself, I wipe it off.

She flushes a little, and says, "Thanks." She hands it back to me, and I take a few gulps. I put it aside, then take another deep breath.

That scared me more than I’d like to admit. If something had happened to her, if she’d been hurt—my heart crashes into my ribcage and sweat breaks out on my brow—I wouldn't have been able to live with myself. But she’s fine; nothing happened to her. And I intend to make sure it stays that way.

I turn to her. "Ready to go?"

43

Mira

I hear my name and open my eyes. I yawn, then sit up and look around. Lights. The entire place is lit up. We’re in queue behind a long line of cars, and the sign on the side of the road says, "Angarrack: Twelve Days of Christmas."

"I’ve heard of this village. It hosts one of the most famous Christmas light displays in the country."

"It does." He nods.

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