“All right,” she agreed, tired of arguing. “You married me for my dowry. But that doesn’t mean our marriage can’t succeed. Many marriages start this way.”
Dylan pushed himself to a sitting position, his back against the headboard, one knee drawn up to his chest. He gave her a brooding look. “I don’t think I’m ready for this. To have you here in my life every moment of the day. Perhaps it would be better if we found you a house in London.”
Natalia felt as though she’d been slapped. He didn’t want her in his life? She sat up as well, careful to keep the sheet drawn up to her chest, feeling a sudden resurgence of modesty. “You don’t want to be married to me? Are you suggesting a… divorce?”
Divorce was practically unheard of. If Dylan actually went through with such a thing, she’d be a social pariah. No one would receive her.
But that was the least of her worries. If Dylan were to do this, to reject her with such cold finality, she would die. She couldn’t bear the thought of living without him.
Dylan shook his head, his gaze shuttered and distant. “I didn’t say anything about a divorce.”
Natalia’s hurt faded, replaced by a wave of searing anger. “Then perhaps you need to be a little clearer, Dylan. Because I don’t know what the hell youaretalking about.”
He looked a bit taken aback by her profanity. “I think we should live apart. You don’t belong here.”
If he’d meant to destroy her, he couldn’t have chosen a better weapon. She already loved Aldabaran and couldn’t bear to think of leaving it. “I don’t know how you can decide that so quickly. Give me a little more time. We’ve only been here a few days.”
He shook his head and slid out of the bed, crossing the room to gather up his discarded pile of clothing. His golden skin gleamed in the firelight. She looked away, ashamed by the way his broad shoulders, slim waist, and long, lean flanks could still make her heartbeat accelerate.
“You were made for the glittering lights of London, Natalia.” As he spoke, he pulled on his breeches, fumbling in his haste. “And I’ve been alone for far too long. I can’t imagine having you underfoot day after day.”
“Have I done something wrong?” Natalia hated herself for asking, hated the way her love for him had made her weak.
The man had just told her he didn’t want her. She should be walking away instead of trying to figure out a way to make things right.
He paused for a moment and turned to face her, his shirt gaping open across his broad chest. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be, love. You’ve done nothing wrong. It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“So, I’m to go running back to my father? Tell him I made a mistake?” Natalia squared her shoulders, determined not to let him know this was killing her.
“Of course not.” He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “The dowry is yours to spend as you see fit. Buy a fashionable home. Become a bluestocking if you wish. Don’t you see? You’ll be free to do whatever you want with the rest of your life.”
He was the one who didn’t see. All she’d ever wanted was here, at Aldabaran. She wanted to raise a family with the man she loved, grow old and die with the sound of the ocean in her ears.
“Will you visit me from time to time, at least enough to keep the gossips at bay? Will you promise to be a decent father if these nights we’ve already spent together result in a child?” Pride be damned. She couldn’t bear to lose him completely.
He shrugged. “I’d rather not. But if that’s what it takes to get you to leave, I suppose I could manage an occasional visit.”
His indifference managed to hurt her more than his cruelty. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked to keep them at bay. “You bastard. I’ve done nothing to deserve this.”
Dylan shook his head and left the room, leaving her alone with the shattered remnants of her dreams.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The next day dawned gray and gloomy, a perfect setting for Natalia’s mood. She’d cried herself to sleep, and when she awoke, her head throbbed, and her eyes burned. Clad only in a robe and slippers, she drifted to the narrow window and stared down at the churning sea. A storm was brewing, which meant Dylan wouldn’t be able to send her away just yet.
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
No matter how many times she replayed all the horrible things Dylan had said last night, she couldn’t believe he truly meant them. Everything he’d said and done had been so out of character. She couldn’t help thinking she’d missed something.
There must be an answer. There must be a logical explanation. Unfortunately, she was no closer to finding it now than when he’d walked out the door on her last night.
A movement on the cliffs far below caught her attention. She leaned forward, peering through the glass to identify the source. Frowning, she watched as someone walked out on a slim finger of rock and then stood on the very edge, staring down at the crashing waves while the wind whipped at his dark clothes.
Dylan.
Unreasonable panic mounted within her. What was he doing down there? Did he realize how dangerous his position was, especially given the growing intensity of the storm?
Perhaps he didn’t care.
