Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
James returned to the cottage, his emotions barely held in check.
At least Evie was where she was supposed to be.
God help him if she’d decided to disobey him.
As she fumbled with the wooden bar to let him in, he reminded himself to remain calm.
To not frighten his wife, who had already been through enough—nay, too much.
More than any lady should have to endure.
He had to approach the situation logically and find the best solution to the unfolding disaster.
Evie opened the door, and he entered, removing his outer garments and shaking off the rain.
“You were gone so long,” Evie said in a small voice. “I was worried something had happened. Did you…did you find the pearls?”
Her timidity raked the coals of his anger.
Now that he knew the root of her insecurities, he wanted to howl with rage.
If Wilmington weren’t already dead, he would murder the bastard—slowly and with great pleasure.
Instead, he battened down the hatches and contained the violent urge that would not help his wife.
“I was too late.” He slapped his gloves onto the table. “The scoundrel must have been watching you, snatching up his prize the moment you left.”
He saw her shiver at the notion of being observed by the villain.
It gave him a horrible satisfaction to know that she did, at least, have some regard for her safety.
Thinking of the risks she’d taken behind his back made him thirst for blood.
Those opposing desires—to lash out and to protect—were tearing him asunder.
He exhaled through his nose. “I also went back to the house. I asked one of the footmen to convey our excuses, so no one would worry about our absence.”
“Of course.” She bit her lip. “That was thoughtless of me, disappearing like that.”
Acting without thinking seems to be your modus operandi.
He wanted to shout at her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her tight. He did neither, going to dry himself by the fire.
Evie drew closer. “Thank you for looking for the pearls. You needn’t have.”
For some reason, that was the straw that broke him.
“Devil take it.” The words left him in a roar. “You are my wife. It is my duty to protect you—and it is yours to let me know when you need protecting!”
Seeing her flinch, he bit out an oath and stalked toward the cot in the corner, putting distance between them. He braced his hands on his hips, stared at the ceiling, and tried to find his composure.
“I would never hurt you,” he said finally. “No matter how angry I am. I am not like that bastard Wilmington—”
“I know that. By all that blooms, you are nothing like him.”
Evie tugged on his arm, and he turned to face her.
“You are the opposite,” she said fiercely. “Honorable, protective, and kind.”
“Yet you lied to me.” The betrayal seared through him. “For nearly four years, you’ve carried the burden of this secret. Rather than confiding in me, you chose to suffer in silence. Am I so unworthy of your trust? Did you think I could not help you—that I would not?”
“There is no man on earth whom I trust more.” Her eyes shimmered. “But it wasn’t about you, it was about me. How undeserving I am of you. You already made a poor bargain in this marriage—”
“I won’t have you saying that.” He cut her off with a glare. “Or believing such nonsense.”
“It isn’t nonsense,” she insisted. “You might be blind to the truth, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us mere mortals are.”
He shoved a hand through his damp hair. “What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You are perfect, James.”
He found her tone—and the way she waved at him—oddly insulting.
“Your virtues are countless, and your honor is unimpeachable,” she went on. “How was I supposed to tell you that I am a murderess?”
“Stop calling yourself that,” he snapped. “You didn’t murder that bastard. It was an accident—and, in any case, he deserved what he got.”
“That doesn’t make me any less guilty.”
“It bloody well does.” He checked himself. “You are deliberately missing the point.”
“No, you are missing the point.”
The spark of battle was in her eyes, and strangely, it soothed the beast in him.
“It was wrong of me, beyond wrong, to keep my past from you. I regret it more than I can say, and I cannot begin to apologize for dragging you into this. For betraying your trust and ruining your future. However…”
I should have known a “however” was coming.
“However, why is it that you refuse to see the truth?”
“What damned truth?”
“That I am not your equal,” she shot back. “Not in station or wealth, looks or character. You are Apollo, and I am some lowly acolyte who doesn’t deserve to kiss your feet. How am I supposed to then say, by the by, I killed my stepfather who tried to molest me?”
She was mad, he decided. Stark, raving mad.
“You will cease with this comparison to Apollo,” he commanded. “It is demeaning to both of us.”
“If the sandal fits.”
His blood went from simmering to boiling.
“Fine. If you wish to pursue this ridiculous metaphor, then by all means. You are not an acolyte—if you were, you would be subservient, meek, and adoring, and you are none of those things. What you are is secretive, inconvenient, and reckless. If I am Apollo, then you are bloody Daphne.” He jabbed a finger at her.
“You are impossible to pin down and conceal yourself with plants instead of dealing with reality. I offer you my heart, and you bolt as if I carry the plague. I am tired of chasing you—tired of loving you when you make no effort to love me back.”
His chest heaving, he glowered at her. Evie’s jaw had gone slack, and she was staring at him as if he’d descended from Olympus… Christ, now she had him thinking in mythological terms.
“How could you possibly love me?”
The crack in her voice punctured his self-righteous anger.
“It would be easier if you didn’t lie to me at every turn,” he said shortly.
Seeing the disbelief in her eyes, he threw up his hands.
“Devil take it, Evie. We’ve been through this. Why do you think I married you?”
“Because you felt sorry for me.” She bit her lip. “And we had a physical attraction…but that is not the same as love.”
Knowing her past allowed him to quell his impatience.
Now he understood why it was difficult for her to accept his love—to see her own merits the way he and others did.
Wilmington had distorted her view of herself from an impressionable age, deliberately whittling away her confidence and sense of worth so that he could better manipulate her.
I hope the bastard is rotting in his grave.
“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you holding Lord Thaddeus at knife-point,” James said bluntly.
“You didn’t let on.” She blinked. “Not for an entire year.”
“It took me a while to realize the nature of my feelings. And, if you’ll recall, you expressed no interest in a love match.
” He gave an irritable shrug. “Things were fine between us, and I saw no reason to upset the balance. Emotions are felt, even when not articulated. You weren’t declaring your undying devotion to me…
but your actions conveyed your affection.
You gave me your unwavering support during the trying time with Ethan and Owen and saw to all my comforts.
When I was reasonably certain you felt more than affection for me, I made my own feelings known. ”
“You waited a year.” A tear beaded at the corner of her eye.
“When you could have told me from the start. I fell in love with you, James, the moment you came to my rescue. You defended me when I had only known predators. Showed me respect and care when others had treated me as if I were less than nothing. I knew it was selfish to want you, to love you…but how could I help myself? When I lost the babe, I was overwhelmed with guilt. I believed this was my punishment for killing Wilmington…and for loving you. By marrying you, I cursed you. I think that was why I pulled away. I was afraid…afraid my love would hurt you.”
By Jove. This woman—she destroyed him. Even when she made no sense, even when her logic was knotty and convoluted, she managed to turn him inside-out.
The knowledge that she loved him—had always loved him—reduced his defenses to ashes.
With a growl of frustration, he yanked her into his arms, and she clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder where it belonged.
And finally, finally, he began to calm.
“You are not a curse,” he said. “You are a gift.”
“In the manner of the Trojan horse.” Her voice was muffled against his waistcoat. “All I’ve brought you is trouble.”
“A bit of trouble probably does me good. You keep me on my toes.”
“Why do you have a response for everything?”
“I don’t, always. But I have one now: I have loved you from the day we met, Evie, and I have never stopped.”
She lifted her head, stared at him through tear-spiked lashes.
“Even now? Even knowing what I did?”
“Ad finem fidelis.” He tucked a tress behind her ear.
“But you do know that you are not to blame for what happened, don’t you?
Wilmington manipulated and abused you. Whatever you did was done out of desperation—the desperation of an adolescent girl who’d been preyed upon for years by the man who was supposed to protect her. ”
“I don’t know how I deserve you,” she said in an aching whisper.
“Then I shall tell you. By being yourself: brave, intelligent, and strong—and I didn’t know the half of it.
Not even half, by God.” He held her gaze, wanting her to see his heart and wanting to see hers.
“I admire you beyond words, Evelyn Ashewood Harrington, and I love you beyond comprehension. But I must have your word—your oath of honor—that you will be honest with me from this moment forth. No more deception, no more hiding. There must be only truth between us. Will you give me that?”