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It was Gavin who took a step back, letting his hand slip from hers. Her heart squeezed. He couldn’t leave. Not when she finally felt as though they were beginning to piece back together what they’d broken.

“I read your article on the Dutch painters,” she called out, as though that would somehow get him to stay.

He cast a wary glance. She wanted to grasp him by the shoulders and shake him until his teeth rattled for even thinking he had to tiptoe carefully around her. When had they ever been anything but completely honest with each other?

“You did?” he asked.

“I read the paper every afternoon over tea as a break from working.” She hesitated. “When did you write it?”

He scrubbed a hand over his chin, the bristles of his stubble rasping. “The night of our wedding. After I left.”

His abandonment still hurt, but she couldn’t help the relief that churned in her. He’d been working, not with the woman from the letters.

“Well, I’d say we should ring for a bottle of champagne to celebrate, but you look tired,” she said.

He smiled sheepishly. “Thank you, I think.”

Inching closer, she went on tiptoe and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Good night, Gavin.”

His hand twitched as though he wanted to reach out to her. Her body leaned into him, unable to resist his pull. Something flashed in his eyes, and she was certain he wanted to kiss her. But then he seemed to think better of it. He let his hand drop to his side, pursed his lips, and silently walked out of the room, leaving her clenching her fists tight in frustration.

They had to get back to where they’d started. These long pauses and her own awkwardness were becoming too common. There was no wiping away the fact that sex had changed them, but they needed to find a way back to one another.

Ina set about undressing, hoping it would keep her mind off of Gavin, but as she fumbled with the clasps that held her skirt together, she imagined him stripping her of it. Her shirt, ordinarily utilitarian, felt sensual against her heated skin. When she released the front hooks of her corset, she couldn’t help the ache in her breasts to feel his hands on them.

She ran a stiff-bristled brush over her hair again and again, removing a day’s worth of marble dust that had no doubt settled in the strands. As she counted strokes, her eyes kept wandering to the door that connected their rooms. She couldn’t cross that barrier and risk his rejection again, but when she was done she went to unlock the door just in case he might prove to be the braver of the two of them.

Gavin stood in the dark, staring at the door to his dressing room that kept him from Ina. He’d stood there unmoving since he’d returned to his bedroom. All he could think of were Ina’s soft lips on his cheek just on the other side of that door.

He should’ve kissed her. He should’ve kissed her and carried her to bed and lost himself in her. He was almost positive she wanted him to, and yet he’d done nothing.

He was sabotaging himself and his reasons why were becoming dangerously few.

Somewhere between the Lothian offices and home, Eva’s words had lodged themselves in his brain. He’d believed with absolute certainty for so long that Ina felt nothing deeper than friendship for him, and yet he didn’t know, because he’d never asked her. Even worse, he’d never shown her what he wanted.

He’d just placed his hand on the brass door handle when the tumblers turned. She’d locked the door, shutting him out.

“Idiot,” he murmured, dropping his forehead against the cool wood. If she’d called to him, he would’ve gone running. He couldn’t make her feel what he felt, but maybe he could have something close to it. If she wanted desire and passion, he could give that to her, but instead she’d shut him out.

No. The thought rocketed through him. No, he didn’t want to give up this easily. He’d done that too often with Ina. It had always been easier to pull back and tell himself that their friendship was too important to risk, but now they were married. Everything was different, and he’d been a fool to try to convince himself that he could continue to shield them both from any change in their relationship.

He was done pretending that she didn’t matter to him. That his world didn’t center around her. He just had to figure out a way to show her.

Chapter Ten

INA STOOD, HANDS planted on her hips, staring at the sculpture that was slowly, steadily emerging before her eyes. Two days ago, she’d carefully sketched out the lines of Hero and Leander in chalk on the stone and begun to chisel away the marble, keeping a careful eye out for imperfections in it that might cause it to crack or, even worse, split if she tapped the wrong way.

It was only now, late into the evening, that the block of stone was beginning to resemble a very rough shape of what was in her head. There were shoulders and an angle that would soon become the slope of an arm. One of the points of Leander’s knee canted up, and the rough shape of Hero’s gown pooled at what would soon be her feet.

Setting her hammer down, she ran her fingers along a rough stone that would eventually become Hero’s back.

“You’re making progress.”

Her fingers stilled as Gavin’s voice cut through the quiet of her studio.

“I wasn’t expecting you home so early,” she said.

He chuckled, sending a thrill dancing down her spine.