Dark circles were emerging beneath his eye. He shaved less often as though he couldn’t spare the time. Just as he had so little time for her.
The only time they truly came together, the only time she really had his attention was when he came to her bed at night. Then she relished the moments, savored them, devoured them.
She was so lonely, so in want of attention that she felt rather pitiful about it. “Sebastian, what do you say to our having a picnic tomorrow?”
“I haven’t time for such nonsense,” he said gruffly.
She felt as though shards of glass assailed her. “Am I nonsense then?”
That seemed to get his attention. He looked up to study her. “I’ve never known you to be one to whine.”
She didn’t know why she’d bothered to ask for a picnic. Of late, food wasn’t agreeing with her. She seemed to have little energy. Tears came with no provocation. So did irritation. “I’m not whining. I’m simply going out of my mind. For all the freedom you give me, I might as well be locked in the tower.”
Not that a lock would do much good. He’d managed to knock out a good portion of the wall. He often hammered at it late at night which left them with weary servants during the day. Of late everything he did revolved around Pembrook. Even when they made love, she felt as though she didn’t have his undivided attention. Afterward, he rolled off her and stared at the canopy, one hand shoved beneath his head. Eventually he would leave and several minutes later the crashing of stone would start.
“Tell me something that I can do to help you. Surely there are papers I can read or—”
“See to the affairs of the manor.”
“I do, but even I need to do something fun from time to time.”
“Fun? It’s not a game here, Mary. He tried to have my brother killed. He wants Pembrook and he shan’t have it. If it takes the remainder of my life, I shall see him ruined!”
And what of my life?she almost asked.Ourlife?
Sebastian wasn’t certain what woke him. When he rolled his head to the side, he saw Mary standing at the window, wearing her nightdress, a lamp on a nearby table casting her in soft silhouette.
He swung his legs off the bed, snatched up his trousers, and jerked them on. He crossed the room to her, placed his arms around her, and drew her into the curve of his body. She didn’t relax against him with a sigh as she once had. She remained stiff, unyielding. He lowered his head, pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot below her ear. “Come back to bed.”
“I want us to leave Pembrook.”
He stilled, studied her partial outline in the glass of the window where rain pattered. “Take a holiday?”
“Permanently. You have five other estates. We can make a home in one of those.”
“My home is here.”
She broke free of his hold and swung around to face him. “Did you hear what you said?Myhome. What ofourhome?”
“This is our home.”
“No, Sebastian. It’s not a home. Our life here is you reading through dusty old ledgers—”
“I’m striving to find proof of what he did.”
“Do you honestly think he was stupid enough to write it down? What do you think you’ll find there?”
“Perhaps someone he paid for very little work. Something that doesn’t add up. The name of a friend. Someplace he might go. I don’t know. But there must be something.”
She shook her head. “When you’re not in your library, you’re in the tower, hammering away at it. I understand why it must go, but hire someone to do it.”
“Imust do it. Every stone must feel the weight of my wrath.”
“You’re no different than your uncle.”
Fury shot through him with a vengeance. He took a step toward her. He didn’t know what his face showed, but she flinched before squaring her shoulders.
“I am nothing like him,” he ground out.
