Watching him closely, she asked, “Which part?” Knowing him, as she was slowly beginning to, the more time she spent with him, she knew there had to be a reason why he was so adamant they live together to raise their child.
“Living here at Redcliff.”
It felt cruel to tell him the truth, but she wouldn’t lie to him. “No. I just don’t think that’s a realistic idea, Sebastian. Parenthood shouldn’t consign one to monastic existence.”
He winced, the expression subtle and fleet, flashing across his face in the blink of an eye, but she caught it. When he spoke, his tone was measured and even. “I didn’t get the impression that sex was that important to you.”
He thought he could nudge her into his way of thinking by using her inexperience and faith against her, but she was savvy enough to not let him.
“You alone know the limits and excess of my interest in sex, Sebastian. That’s not in the least what I meant and you know that, too.”
He looked away from her, sipping his wine and staring out into the darkening canyon. Then he let out a breath and turned to her. “Again, it seems I owe you an apology. That was uncalled for. I am rather turned off by the idea of living apart from my child, even within the confines of a normal custody arrangement. However, I recognize I am not the only one with skin in this game, as they say.”
For a moment, she only stared at him, conscious that the absurd statement was both a genuine apology and an attempt at being humble. Then, doing her best to keep her words neutral, she said, “Well, there’s that at least.”
He looked at her closely before a smile cracked his serious face. “You’re the only one I apologize to, Jenna. Not even the king.”
If he’d intended to metaphysically reach into her chest and squeeze her heart, he’d achieved his aim, the words knocking into her, revealing far more than she thought he realized.
Mistaking her quiet for continued pique, he offered, “Come to the library, we’ll have dessert.”
Did he mean to draw up the ghosts of their past?
She had barely recovered from his casual confession and here he was again throwing off her equilibrium. Heat infused her cheeks.
Awareness lit his eyes, desire adding an edge to the green fire that always glowed there, but when he opened his mouth, he only offered an explanation. “Tea and bonbons in front of the fire. Nothing else.”
There was honest intention in his words, the look in his eyes held firmly in control, no machination behind his invitation. He was committed, she sensed, to charting the course they’d set.
But though she should be relieved, as they rose to put their dishes away and she joined him in making their way to the library, the heaviness in her heart could only be labeled disappointment.