That, or the sight of the scars on my back were so sickening that they’ve put you off food.
Obviously, Nathan didn’t say this out loud. Nor would he mention his scars to her ever if he could help it. The fact that she had seen them filled him with shame, and he had to stop his hands from clenching into fists on the table.
Don’t take it out on her,he reminded himself.She would have seen them sooner or later anyway, given that we are married.
Nathan forced himself to focus on Rosalie, who was still watching him. There was something tender in her expression, something he hadn’t seen before, and his stomach clenched.
She feels sorry for me now.It wasn’t exactly how he wanted the woman married to him to feel about him.
“Well, I don’t care if you’re not hungry,” he said instead. “You will need your strength for the rest of the journey tomorrow. It’s a long way to Carramere Castle still. If the pie isn’t to your liking, I can see if the cook will make something else.”
“It’s to my liking,” Rosalie said quickly, and she gave him a forced smile before taking a larger bite of the pie.
He leaned back in his seat, satisfied.She’s not going to get away with not eating in front of me.
This was the main reason he’d wanted to take Rosalie with him to Carramere Castle. He could have gone on his own, of course, and kept her firmly out of harm’s way. While he didn’t fear the new Lord Redfield, he also didn’t know what they might be up against here, and opium smugglers were serious criminals. He’d dealt with some before in the cases he’d worked on with Scotland Yard.
But he’d suspected that if he left Rosalie, she would go back to eating as little as possible and lose the little weight she’d managed to gain since coming to live with him.
“Are you excited to reach the castle tomorrow?” Rosalie asked as she reached for her glass of wine. “It has been a while since you’ve been there, right?”
“It has been some years,” Nathan admitted. He didn’t really want to talk about himself or the castle, but if it kept her eating, then he would.
“Then you must be excited,” she concluded, studying him.
He shrugged. “There are lots of repairs to do. It has fallen into disarray since even before my father’s death. He did not take good care of it or keep it safe from destruction. I am not looking forward to how much time, effort, and money it will cost to make it habitable again.”
“It’s not habitable?” Rosalie’s eyes were wide with worry.
He laughed. “Parts of it are habitable enough. But no, I wouldn’t want us to stay there long term.”
She took another bite of the pie, chewing slowly as she thought about this. “So… you are taking me to a rundown castle that is only habitable in parts… for my honeymoon?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, and Nathan’s stomach twinged.She suspects there is more to this than just the honeymoon.
“It’s my ancestral home,” he said quickly, “and it’s very beautiful, even if some areas need repairs.”
“The repairs might not be so bad to make,” she said after a moment, “but you sound as if you dread them.”
“It is not an interesting use of my time.”
“But as you say, the castle is your family home. Shouldn’t you take pride in it?”
Nathan snorted. He couldn’t help himself. He knew it was rude and dismissive and might hurt her feelings, but she’d hit a nerve.
“Taking pride in the castle would mean taking pride in my family and our history,” he said. “And I find it hard to care about either.”
“Why?” she asked, setting down her fork. He nodded at her food, only resuming once she had eaten a healthy bite.
“My father was obsessed with family, honor, and carrying on our legacy as Dukes of Carramere, but I find that repulsive. I’m not interested in carrying onhislegacy. Anyway, if he’d really cared so much about the castle, he wouldn’t have?—”
He forced himself to stop speaking. Already, he’d said too much, and he could see the curiosity in her eyes.
“He wouldn’t have done what?” she asked.
Of course, she wouldn’t let it go. This is Rosalie we’re talking about. She probably thinks it’s an important backstory, like I’m a character in one of her romantic novels.
“It’s not important,” he said dismissively. “And I don’t wish to speak of it.”
