Page 13 of Journey to You

He squinted, saw a pink window like a hundred others, and shook his head. “Sad, more like it. Having to stay behind closed doors while the kings got to strut their stuff. I don’t think many women would tolerate that these days.”

She stiffened, her smile fading, hurt flickering in the rich green depths of her eyes. “Maybe some women find it easier to give in to the whims of their husbands than live with callous indifference every day.”

Realisation dawned and he thrust his hands in his pockets to stop from slapping himself upside the head.

Had she inadvertently given him a glimpse into her marriage to Richard, confirming his suspicions that Richard behaved differently behind closed doors?

He’d seen Richard like that at work. All smiles and jovial conviviality, but if things didn’t go his way or someone dared have a different opinion to King Dick, he’d freeze them out better than his Bombe Alaska.

Would he have treated his wife the same way?

Hell.

Ethan hated thinking this warm, vibrant woman had been subjected to that, had possibly tiptoed around in order to stayon Richard’s good side, had put a happy face on a marriage that would’ve been trying at best.

She didn’t deserve that, no woman did, and the least he could do now was distract her long enough so she forgot his unintentional faux pas and enjoyed the rest of their day in Jaipur.

“I’ve seen enough palaces for one day. How about you and I hit some of those handicraft shops the guide mentioned earlier?”

He leaned towards her ear, aiming for an exaggerated conspiratorial whisper. “By your footwear over the last few months, I’d say you collect boots on a weekly basis so I’m sure the odd bargain or two wouldn’t go astray.”

She flashed him a haughty glare while her lips twitched. “I’ll have you know I only buy a few pairs of boots a year. Melbourne’s winters can be killer on a girl’s feet.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” He smiled, thrilled his distraction had worked. “So, are you up for some shopping?”

“I’m up for anything.”

Their gazes locked, and for a long, loaded moment he could’ve sworn he saw a flicker of something other than her usual reticence.

“Come on then, let’s go.”

As she walked beside him, he mulled her revelation. He had no idea what sort of a marriage Richard and Tam shared. Once they got hitched, he’d preferred to make himself scarce whenever she appeared. He’d cited interstate or overseas business whenever she hosted a party, and avoided all contact if she dropped intoAmbrosiato see Richard. In reality, his blinding need to avoid her at all costs meant he preferred not to see them interact and had distanced himself deliberately.

Maybe he’d read too much into her comment about tolerant wives and their private battle to keep the peace? Probably a passing comment, nothing more. Then why the persistentnagging that there could be more behind her fragility than ongoing grief for a dead husband?

Jamming his hands into his pockets, he picked up the pace. The sooner they hit the shops, the sooner she’d be totally distracted and the sooner he’d lose the urge to bundle her in his arms, cradle her close, and murmur soothing words.

He shouldn’t get involved. Her marriage was her business and the less he thought about it, the better. Remembering she once loved another man enough to marry him didn’t sit well considering how much he wanted her.

Besides, it would be dangerous for Tam to become emotionally attached to him and that’s exactly what would happen if he started delving into issues that didn’t concern him and offering comfort.

He didn’t do emotions. Hated the wild, careening, out of control feeling they produced, which is why he dated widely, frequently, and never got involved.

Better off sticking to what he knew best: work. He understood work. He could control work. He could become the man he’d always wanted to be through work. That suited him fine.

As for Tam, he’d concentrate on keeping things light and sticking to his original plan.

These days, what Ethan wanted he got, and he had his sights firmly fixed on Tam.

Six

Tamara had never been good at faking anything, so pretending like that kiss never happened was taking its toll.

She knew why Ethan had done it—out of comfort, maybe even pity—but it didn’t change how she reacted. Like she wanted more. So she’d been doing her best to ignore him ever since.

However, her plan to freeze Ethan out had hit a snag. A big one, in the shape of one super smooth, super charming, super likeable, pain in the ass.

Why did he have to be so damn charismatic?

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