Chapter Eight #2
“And now Egypt,” she echoed. “It is the culmination of everything I’ve dreamed of, everything I was denied when my father forced me to marry Richard.
” The fervor in her voice startled even her, a reminder of how long she’d kept it subdued.
But she wanted him to know that she hadn’t married Richard willingly.
“Was he cruel to you?” Max asked softly. “Your husband?”
“He didn’t beat me, if that’s what you mean.
” She bit her lip. “But there are other types of cruelty. I didn’t realize that he had no interest in a real marriage.
” Heat crept up her face, but she pressed on.
She needed him to know... all of it. She didn’t want him to think she’d moved on from him, that she’d ever shared herself with anyone in the ways she had with him.
“What do you mean?” he asked, a dangerous edge to his voice.
“He... had no interest in women,” she said in a rush.
“I didn’t know at first, had never even conceived of such a possibility.
I didn’t understand why he didn’t want to consummate our marriage.
.. When I finally gathered the courage to discuss it with him, he told me that he didn’t find me pleasing. ”
Tears stung her eyes at the admission. She didn’t think she could ever adequately convey how much that had hurt her and shattered her confidence.
For years, she’d thought she was to blame.
That her gangly limbs and bright red hair had made her too hideous to touch.
And he’d let her believe that. She feared he’d even taken pleasure in it.
He leaned forward and brushed a tear off her cheek, his fingertips lingering, a strange look on his face. “Are you telling me that... he never once touched you?”
She nodded, and suddenly he was on the bunk beside her, pressing her head against his broad chest, his arms wrapped around her. “I was furious when I heard you’d wed, and to another younger son, nonetheless. I wanted to kill him. I couldn’t bear the thought of you being with another man.”
He pressed his lips to her temple and pulled back enough to meet her shocked gaze. “I hate that he made you feel like you weren’t good enough. Don’t you know that you’re perfect? Memories of making love to you have haunted me all these years.”
Her throat locked up, refusing to allow a single word to escape. All she could do was snuggle back against him and bury her face against his chest once more. His scent, sandalwood, cloves, and sea air, overwhelmed her.
She’d missed him so much.
He seemed to sense that she was completely undone, and he didn’t say anything else. He just leaned back against the bulkhead, a pillow tucked behind his head, and held her against his chest, his hand lightly stroking her hair.
The storm persisted, relentless in its fury. Yet within the cramped confines of the cabin, Eden felt a shifting, a loosening of the emotional walls she had so carefully erected.
Max was here; he obviously still cared. He thinks that I’m perfect.
All those long years of doubting herself, doubting her worth as a woman, faded away.
In this moment at least, she had her best friend back.
As the night wore on, he told her of the terror and loneliness of his years in the army, of all the terrible things he’d seen and done.
He’d been badly injured in the Zulu campaign, slashed by a spear, which explained the scar she’d seen when his shirt had been off.
It had gotten infected, and he’d spent a miserable month in an army hospital.
In return, she finally found the words to tell him what her marriage had been like. How Richard and his father had refused to allow her to pursue her interests, how they’d undermined her at every turn.
“I wanted a family so badly,” she admitted. “It killed me when I realized that I’d never have that. My father must have known I’d spend the rest of my life alone and barren, but he didn’t care.”
“I’m so sorry, Eden,” he whispered. “I wish I could have saved you from all of that.”
He could have. If he’d just stayed, just spoken to her before he ran away to the army, she would have told him that she didn’t care about her dowry. She hadn’t cared about anything but him. She would have run away to Gretna Green with him if he’d only asked. She’d have gladly been a soldier’s wife.
But there was no point in saying any of that. The past was the past. They couldn’t change it.
“What about you?” she asked hoarsely. “Didn’t you ever want to marry and have children?”
“The life of a soldier is not really conducive to a family,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t think children were ever in the cards for me, Eden.”
He didn’t want children. Of course, he didn’t.
As he said, his life would not really allow for a stable family life.
His life was in Egypt, Greece, or Turkey.
Wherever there were discoveries to be made.
Disappointment flared within her, even though she told herself it was stupid.
What had she expected? That he’d spend a few days with her and suddenly decide to give all this up and return with her to England?
Besides, she’d long ago accepted the fact that she’d never be a mother. She had her studies and now this expedition. It had to be enough. She was determined to live in the moment and just enjoy the time they had together.
They spoke long into the night. The more they shared, the less alone she felt. How had she survived without him? She couldn’t believe her father had denied her this, that he’d thought that it was better to spend the best years of her life with a man who hadn’t cared about her at all.
The first rays of dawn found them still cuddled on the narrow bunk.
The storm had spent its rage, leaving behind a calm, unbroken sea.
Max had finally drifted off to sleep, and Eden gazed at him as he dozed fitfully, snuggled up against him.
His face was softened by sleep, and her heart swelled with tenderness.
Egypt waited for her, vast and unknowable, but in this moment, the reawakening of an old and complicated bond occupied her thoughts.
And for the first time in as long as she could remember, Eden wondered if there was a possibility that she and Max could somehow find their way back to each other.