Her shoulders drooped, and the hurt in her voice was acid poured over his skin. Why was she so despondent? This seemed to go deeper than experiencing the reality of a surgeon’s tent.
Entrenched on the threshold of her chamber, neither in nor out, Hawk opened his mouth, but no words came.
She hugged herself, looking away. “I don’t think I’m fit company this evening, my lord. Perhaps you should return to your dinner.”
She had just given him a way out. He could retreat. The tulle-draped girl before the mirror was the chink in his armor. And he had no map, no plan, no practiced maneuver to lead her out of sorrow.
Still, he closed the door and stepped inside.
The door clicked softly. Hawk’s footsteps rumbled under the soles of her feet. How could she face him when her heart was crumbling? Celeste looked instead at her body, draped in tulle illusion. At the ballet studio, she had always admired her reflection. But today it felt like a poorly made fantasy. No wonder Hawk had rejected her. While he resided in a world of battles and lost limbs, fighting for the destiny of thousands, she lived in a makeshift dream, plotting romances fit only for a foolish girl’s diary.
He came closer. The heat of his chest warmed her back. He placed his hands on her shoulders. It was a wonder that her knees held her.
His eyes found hers in the mirror. “It is a beautiful gown. And it will make your husband the luckiest man in the world.”
But it won’t be you. He didn’t say it, and she was too afraid to voice it, but it hovered between them, weighing the air, and rasping against her throat. A tear rolled down her cheek.
He brushed it away.
“I don’t want you to be sad. What do you need to feel better?To smile again, to laugh and make merry?” He sounded gentler than usual. A thread of hoarseness, of helplessness, coated his consonants.
She drank in his gentleness and felt some childish glee at the helplessness. It meant he didn’t understand her. The all-powerful general could not figure out how to please his wayward ward.
She looked away.
He pulled her face back, searching her eyes.
What could she say to him?
Oh, Alexander, quite unexpectedly, you became the villain and the hero of my story, who hurts and soothes, for whom I feel the height of bliss and the dregs of despair, whom I want to obey and rebel against, whom I look after for everything.
I love you, and today I realized that no fantasy can breach the chasm between us. My heart is breaking, but I need you to kiss the pain away.
She turned in his arms. What a fright she was, with wet cheeks, lips trembling. “Make love to me.”
Once the words were out, she kept her chin lifted, daring him to retreat. Typical Celeste, bold on the outside, terrified within.
He ran a hand through his hair. “You know that it is impossible.”
Her spine bowed as if she had been wounded, a wound not all the bandages of the surgeon’s tent could heal. Which was foolish, because didn’t she know beforehand he would deny her?
“Let’s pretend. Just this once. That this is my wedding night,” she whispered.
Another illusion. Was she not living in them forever? She was even cloaked in one. Anything to keep him close. She could live in a dream if that was all she could get from him.
His eyes fell shut. “This won’t help, it will—”
“Please.” She hugged herself, her fingers digging into her arms. “If I know what to expect when the time comes for me to marry, I won’t be so afraid.”
Hawk groaned.
The sound of his resignation made her heart ache. He could not stand her fear, could he? But what else could she say that would convince him? Juliet had lied to her parents. Viola had worn a man’s clothes. Portia had argued the law in disguise. But none of them had stood before the man they adored and used his need to protect against them. Perhaps she was no heroine after all, but how she needed him by her side, if only for an illusion… If she had to be born without the traits to be courageous, why did she carry such a need to be loved?
She took his large hand in both of hers and kissed the center of his palm. Her lips lingered, brushing softly against his dry skin.
He closed his eyes, and she felt him shudder.
“Let us play this play, just for tonight. Let us forget the ending.”
