He loved that she wanted to please him. He loved that she hadn’t questioned or nagged him about the way he was acting. Most of all, he loved the way she’d held him after their passion was spent, touching his face as though he were precious to her.
She’d given him everything and asked for nothing in return.
But all these things only made him more determined to send her away. He wanted to remember her exactly like this—flushed with desire, instead of pale with fury. He couldn’t stand to watch the love in her eyes turn to disgust and dismay, couldn’t bear to watch the slow and inevitable destruction of their marriage.
Better to end it now, while he still could.
* * *
Natalia laid content in the circle of Dylan’s arms, her back pressed against his chest, his thigh flung over her hips. She’d never felt so safe, so loved.
He still hadn’t told her what had been bothering him, or why he’d arrived home so late, but she was confident he would. Their lovemaking had gentled him, perhaps even exercised his demons once and for all.
She knew it wasn’t easy for him to admit to any weakness. He found it impossible to ask for help. But she was certain if she just kept showing him how much she cared, eventually he’d realize she would never use his secrets against him.
He shifted restlessly against her. To her amazement, she felt him hardening against the cleft of her bottom. Smiling, she turned to face him, only to have the smile fade from her lips as she saw the troubled look on his face.
She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but somehow, she restrained herself. He was obviously struggling to find the words to begin. She didn’t want to say anything that might dissuade him.
He would tell her in his own words, in his own way.
Holding his gaze, she brushed a few strands of silky black hair out of his startling gray eyes and prayed she’d be able to say the things he needed to hear. It was time to put the past behind them. She was desperate to rekindle their fledgling friendship, which had been crushed so brutally back in London.
“So,” he said at last. “Do you still think I married you for your dowry?”
It was the last thing she’d expected him to say. For some reason, she hadn’t thought their marriage had anything to do with his troubles. She’d assumed something had happened to him while he was down in the village, something that had reminded him of the terrible tragedy of his mother’s death.
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think that. Not anymore.” It was the truth. Sometime, within the last few days, she’d come to realize he wanted her for more than her money.
She wasn’t sure what she’d done to make him care, but she no longer doubted he did. Beneath the spoiled, self-conscious girl she’d been, he’d somehow seen the passionate loving woman she’d always wanted to become.
“You don’t?” He seemed surprised and more than a little annoyed. Frowning, he turned on his back and stared up at the ceiling. “Well, you’re wrong.”
“What do you mean?” A cold chill traveled down Natalia’s spine. He was pulling away from her, and not just physically.
“When I met you, I had nothing. I had no money. No future. No hope. I was almost thirty years old, the earl had written me off, my commission was gone, and I was about to be thrown out of my shabby little apartment down by the river. The only dream I’d ever had—to run an estate of my own—seemed as unattainable as the moon.”
She’d known all this, of course, but it made her uncomfortable to hear him say it. She’d never known that sort of desperation, had always had the security of her name and fortune to carry her through rough times.
How naïve she’d been.
“Then I made that wager with Jonathan, and I started thinking you were exactly what I needed. A rich wife would solve all my problems. If I had your dowry, I could buy the finest estate on the market. I’d never have to worry about money again.”
He glanced at her through his dark lashes, as though to check that his words were having the desired effect. Natalia met his gaze, refusing to even blink, lest he know how badly he was hurting her.
Something was very wrong. These things he said might hold truth, but she knew him well enough now to realize his motives had never been so cut and dried. He wasn’t a heartless man.
No.Dylan cared about people far more than he wanted to. He wouldn’t be doing this unless he had somehow gotten it into his head that by pushing her away, he was protecting her.
“You’re lying,” she said, with utter certainty. “That might have been why you approached me at your father’s ball, but it wasn’t the reason you agreed to meet me in the garden.”
“You’re defending me now?” He shook his head. “Just a few short days ago, you were more than willing to believe I’d married you in order to get my hands on your dowry.”
“A lot has changed since then.” She placed her hand against his heart, loving the slow steady beat. “Seeing you here, at Aldabaran, I’ve come to realize that a home is far more important to you than any amount of money could ever be. And you knew this place was yours before you met me in the garden.”
“As far as I knew, Aldabaran was a crumbling ruin,” he told her stubbornly. “I thought I might need your money to rebuild it.”
With every cold, calculating word Dylan said, Natalia’s confusion grew. What was he trying to do? It seemed as though he was trying to hurt her on purpose.
