Page 76 of Better Love Next Time
He called to his wife’s slim back as she moved toward her room. “Why did you leave?”
Silence followed. She halted, her hip leaning slightly on the gaming table.
“What happened between me departing for Southampton and you deciding to see the world?”
She bent her head, exposing the smooth skin of her nape. “I had to go.”
“Why?”
“I must find Father Dunlevy.”
“Why? Are you afraid of him? Did he hurt you? Did he threaten you? By God, I will kill?—”
“No! He did not hurt me.”
“Then why?” He was nearly shouting now. He wanted to tear something to pieces. Hurl her, his past, the fucking hurt he thought he had conquered, to hell. “Why did you leave me?”
“You are so angry.”
“Ah, well. My apologies. I am now all cordiality.” He threw up a hand, though what did it matter? She had her back to him still. Couldn’t look at him.
More silence. Did she ponder his question? Would she answer honestly or invent a response to fit what she thought he wanted to hear?
She steadied her shaking hand on the card table. Her fingers curled into a fist. “If I tell you…” She lifted her face to the ceiling, breathing deeply. “Yes, I know I must.”
He strode toward her, turning her around and bracing her upper arms. “Tell me, goddamn it.”
Tears welled in her rounded eyes. “I was afraid!”
“Of what?”
“Of—” Groaning, she clenched her eyes shut. If not for his hold upon her, she might have dropped to her knees.
He followed her as she dipped. “I deserve to know the truth.”
“Yes, I?—”
“Tell me!”
“I was a-afraid of what might become of us if we married. We were so young. I feared you proposed to me because it was expected or because of Anthony. You always made it clear you never wished to marry. I wanted you to be free to make good your dreams.”
“Free? Damn you for putting this on me. It was you, Kitty. You who left. You. Did you find what you were searching for? Did you find your happy ending in Paris? Venice?”
“No. I did not.”
“So you came back.”
“Sir Jeffrey insisted. And—and I lied about seeing the world. And not loving you. But it was the only way to let you go. I never went to Paris or Venice. I went to Scotland with Father Dunlevy.”
Swiftly, he removed his hold and stepped back. He shook his head, attempting to make sense of her confession. Looking back on their travels, he accepted immediately her veracity. She hadgazed upon the Continental sights as one who had never before, wide-eyed with wonder.
“You lied to me.”
She hung her head. “I promise you, I did not want to. I would sell my very soul to have the chance to do it over again.”
She caught a sob and hurried into her room. He stalked after her, catching her as she neared the bed. Hooking an arm about her waist, he yanked her firm against him.
His voice was thick, gritty with regret. He buried his mouth at the curve of her neck. “I am sorry. It was wrong of me to shout.”
