Page 60 of A Bride for the Icy Duke
He closed his eyes against the pounding in his head, the restlessness in his limbs. He was so very tired…
“I wish I could find a way of making you happy,” he finished, the very last of his truths as his mind finally gave up its hold on consciousness and the world went dim around him. The last thing he held onto was Lydia’s floral scent and the understanding, deep within him, that heknewher.
Lydia wasn’t sure at first what woke her. The light outside was the downy gray of dawn, and even the birds had not yet decided the sun had risen enough to announce the coming of a new day.
For a moment, she lay against the pillows, closing her eyes against the sudden wakefulness that had brought her from a dream—a pleasant one in which she and Alexander were lying together, their secrets dead and buried between them.
A low, rasping snore then interrupted her thoughts, sending her heart hammering again. With a gasp, she sat up, the dim light revealing a figure at the end of the bed.
Alexander?
He had slumped half across the bed, half across the floor, and he looked wickedly uncomfortable. Even so, he was asleep, and he was in her bedchamber…
For an instant, she considered ringing for someone. Evidently, he had entered after she was asleep, and she didn’t know for what purpose.
Almost as soon as she entertained the idea, she dismissed it. It would be a shame to disturb him when he was sleeping so soundly. Besides, the fact that he had come in just tobewith her negated any chance of him having done so out of malice. This was, in fact, the sign she’d been searching for. A reason to keep fighting, even after all the terrible things he’d said.
Although she wouldstillbe seeking an apology for that at minimum.
Careful not to disturb him, she slid out of bed and padded softly across to her writing desk by the window. There, tucked under some papers, was the list she had made. There were a few items still left uncrossed, but instead of crossing another off, she took her pen and dipped it in the ink, writing one final item at the bottom.
Visit the place we first met.
Before they gave up on each other for good, she would tell him the truth about everything—because it had by now become obvious he didn’t remember. Then, all of her cards would be on the table. No more lies between them.
None, save for his.
And she would learn those today.
Marching to the door, she locked it from the inside, hiding the key in her dressing table. Now he would be unable to escape without first confiding in her. And if he didn’t, she would keep him here. What else did they have to do with the day? If he had an engagement, he would merely have to speak to her first.
As she stared at his languid body, she felt her heart rate increase, thumping against her ribs. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t give in and tell her everything immediately, so she would have a reason to keep him here. In her bedchamber. Where anything might happen…
She returned to the bed and propped the pillows up, sitting against them and waiting for him to naturally wake.
He took some time to do so, clearly exhausted, but when he did, he started as though shocked he was still here. When he glanced up and found her watching him, he winced.
“Lydia…” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face. “This isn’t what you think.”
She arched a brow. “And what, pray, do I think?”
“That I came here… that I came here with intent.”
“Intent to what?”
He returned his gaze to her. “I think you know.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I did not come here in order to seduce you into forgiving me,” he rasped, his voice unnecessarily harsh.
“A bold assumption that it would take nothing else to forgive me.” She folded her arms. Despite her intentions of giving him one last chance, she was not about to let him off the hook lightly. He had hurt her, and he had done so deliberately, knowing the things he said would cause her pain.
“You declared everything would be easier if I hated you, then proceeded to do everything in your power to make that happen. So, in that case, whydidyou come here?”
He rose awkwardly to his feet, evidently stiff after sleeping the way he had. “Regret,” he said at last, looking down at her. “And with good reason, I’m sure you’ll agree. But I should take my leave—”
“No.”
