Page 95 of Princess of Pride
He tucks his hands into his pockets. “No.”
What? “You didn’t even consider it. You usually get quiet and think for a little while. I prefer it.”
“You know me pretty well,” he says as if impressed.
“Not really. You’re not exactly an open book.”
“What do you want to know?” He gestures to the chair in front of me. I eye him wearily and watch as he unbuttons his suit jacket and sits on the chair closest to him. “You said you wanted to talk. Let's talk.”
I did say that, didn’t I? And here I hoped he’d just agree, and I could be on my way.
I sit on the chair beside him and rest my hands on my knees.
He follows the movement and leans back, placing his elbow on the armrest, his fingers near his lips. It’s very seductive, like he wants my eyes on his mouth.
“What do you want to know?” he repeats.
I don’t know why this comes out of my mouth. “Tell me about you and Tessa.”
He inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, his composure at ease. “There isn’t much to tell. I met her through Wes. I hired her after I graduated from university. When I moved to America to finish my MBA, she stayed working here. About three years ago, we started sleeping together. It was sex, nothing more. I made that clear from the beginning. She said she wasn’t looking for more either.”
He says it with zero emotion, like it was a temporary transaction. Maybe to him it was.
“Have you ever offered more to someone you slept with?”
“No.”
While I’m at risk of falling, he’s at risk of nothing. “Have you ever loved anyone?”
He lowers his hand from his mouth to the armrest. “Love isa weakness. It means death. My mum’s love for my dad got him murdered. Ewan’s love for my mum got him killed. My mum’s love for both of them caused her to take her own life. Loving you is the worst thing I can do for you. It’s a death sentence.”
So this is his perception. I can’t say I blame him, given the tragedy surrounding his life brought on by love. Instead of making me angry, it softens me more toward him. This insight is profound in my understanding of Lachlan. He’ll never believe love isn’t all about death unless he experiences it in a different way that doesn’t result in loss. What a challenge that would be—and what a risk.
Have I come around to love so much that I actually want to bother? I just asked to leave him, which won’t help him change his viewpoint at all. Some sliver of hope inside me believes he could romantically fall for someone. Maybe even me. He cares for people regardless of his reasoning. He loved his parents. He loves Rory. Does he not realize he’s capable of love?
It would be a lot to give this a try. More than the research I haven’t finished for my bookstore. It would also go against everything I said I didn’t want when I agreed to this marriage.
“You’re awfully quiet. No more questions?” The way his eyes penetrate mine almost has me walking—or crawling—to him. I bet he’d like me on my knees again.
“Is your reason for keeping me here to protect me? Because you think it’s safer than some place in New England?”
He raises his hand again, his elbow on the arm of the chair as he rubs his finger and thumb together while considering his response. “To an extent.”
“What is this extent?” I sit forward.
“I don’t trust anyone to protect you as well as I can, as I’ve said. I also don’t know if you’re ready to be near your family without knowing more about the truth of your birth.”
I’m not sure about that either.
“And I can’t fuck you if you’re in a different country.”
The way he just throws that out there… I hate that his tenacity turns me on. “You can’t fuck me now.”
His eye twitches. “I can do many things to you. Maddening, pleasurable things that would have you screaming at the top of your lungs.”
“Or passing out.”
His jaw muscles flex. He lifts his phone and texts something. A swoosh sounds and my phone dings in my pocket. He nods at it. “That’s a link with everything about your birth mother and brother. If you choose to read it and still want to return to New England, I’ll consider it with one stipulation.”
