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They’d been drunk with passion, and in the heat of that limitless pleasure, he could have taken all of her—body, heart, soul, and blood. She would have surrendered everything she was. Without even knowing what a future together might look like once the handfast was over and they left the cocoon of the villa.
She would give it all to him now too, clear-headed and sober.
Not at the end of their eight nights, but now.
And as much as it scared her, she had to let him know what he meant to her. Even more terrifying, she had to know if what she’d read in his tormented eyes a few hours ago was anything close to the depth of emotion she felt for him.
If he loved her too, then nothing else mattered. They would find a way to blend their lives and form their future together.
But as she rounded the corner of the corridor and overheard some of his conversation, all of her hopes faltered, then fell away. He wasn’t talking to Marcel. She hung back, out of Jehan’s sight as he spoke with one of his fellow warriors.
“I appreciate your understanding, Commander. I’m eager to be back in Rome to assemble my team and put the new mission into action. I’ll be there as soon as my obligation here is over.” He paused to listen to the warrior on the other end, then exhaled a heavy sigh. “No, I haven’t made Seraphina aware of my decision. To be honest with you, sir, my mind is made up where she’s concerned. I don’t intend to give her any room to disagree.”
He chuckled as if he and his comrade had just shared a joke. Meanwhile, Sera felt as though she’d been punched in the gut.
He was going back to Rome. Eager to get back to his team there.
As for her, he’d just disregarded her as if she didn’t matter to him at all.
Sickness roiled in her stomach, in her heart. She shivered, suddenly self-conscious of her nudity in the center of the romantic villa. Silently, she retreated back to the kitchen and dropped the half-eaten peach in the trash.
What a fool she’d been to let herself think this was anything more than a joke to him. It had been from the start. An obligation he felt compelled to fulfill.
One he just admitted to his commander that he would walk away from as soon as it ended.
Thank God she hadn’t let herself look even more idiotic by confessing her feelings for him.
Now she had several more nights of torture to look forward to, knowing that Jehan couldn’t wait to be finished with the handfast and leave her behind.
CHAPTER 16
Complaints of a headache had driven Seraphina outside to the sunshine for most of the afternoon. Jehan had tried to persuade her that another vigorous round of orgasms might make her feel better instead, but his attempt at humor—and seduction—had failed miserably.
If he wasn’t mistaken, her escape to the daylight on the patio seemed no less deliberate now than it had that first full day they’d spent together at the villa. When she’d gone there in an effort to avoid his company.
Had he done something wrong?
Or had she realized how close he’d been to burying his fangs in her carotid the last time they’d made love and was now determined to steer clear of him?
Whatever it was, it bothered him that she didn’t seem interested in talking to him about it.
Roaming around the villa alone while she avoided him outside was maddening. He missed her, and she had only been away from him for a couple of hours.
How empty would his life feel if she was gone from it for good?
That was the question that had ridden him most of the past twelve hours—ever since their escape from the danger at the camp. Now that he’d had Seraphina in his life, in his arms, how would he ever be able to return to his existence without her?
He thought he’d known the answer, but maybe he was mistaken.
As twilight fell outside and she still didn’t come inside to face him, Jehan decided he had to know. If she didn’t feel the way he did, then he was ready to call off the rest of the handfast and try to save some shred of his sanity, if not his dignity.
He was stalking toward the patio doors when a knock sounded on the villa’s front entrance.
Diverted from his mission, Jehan swung around and went over to see who it was.
Marcel stood there in the moonlight, grinning like an idiot.
And beside him—clinging to his arm with an equally besotted smile on her face—was Leila.
