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A sudden grief constricted around her heart as Castor guided them around the gallery, greeting people, answering questions and receiving congratulations on their marriage.
She glanced up at him, the discomfort she’d had coming in deepening. His handsome features had become hard, almost cold, his gaze relentlessly scanning the room. She noticed the black-suited men moving through the room too, fanning out around her and Castor like a protective shield.
He’d been living like this for a long time, pretending to be someone else, pretending to be as awful as the people he associated with. And that had to have affected him. If there was one thing she’d learned about him in the past two weeks, it was that he was a protective, caring man and capable of great kindness. What had all this pretence done to him? Was he tired of it? Did he want to lay down the burden of having to do this just once?
If he was anything like Annabel and how she’d felt while caring for Glory, then yes, he probably did. Because that’s why he was doing this, wasn’t it? It was for his sister’s sake.
The constriction of grief tightened inside her. It wasn’t fair that had happened to him. And it was clear the night he’d told her what happened that he blamed himself for it and had been spending the last twenty years of his life trying to make up for it. Why else would he be driven?
She wanted to help him, but she didn’t know how. He had a right to his feelings and she wasn’t anything to him but one of his lovers. Who was she to try to give him comfort? When she hadn’t even been able to comfort her own sister?
Still, she could perhaps try, in her own small way.
‘Castor,’ she murmured as they threaded their way through the crowds. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to disappear or anything.’
He glanced down at her, his gaze narrowing into smoky amber slits. The charming man he’d been just seconds before vanishing and leaving behind a dangerous-looking stranger. ‘What are you talking about?’
As she’d told herself a number of times tonight already, an exclusive gala wasn’t the place for such a discussion. But she couldn’t stay silent. He was alone in this, she knew that. He’d told no one else, which made her the only one here who could offer any help. She couldn’t turn away from him, no matter how little confidence she had in her ability to comfort him.
‘You,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re incredibly tense and you haven’t let me go all evening.’
He looked away, giving the room another survey, his grip on her hand tightening. ‘This place isn’t safe for you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I had word that some of the guests here are part of that Eastern European trafficking ring.’ He scanned over the crowds yet again. ‘They wanted to see my bride for themselves, which means I have to protect you.’
Glory knew that should frighten her, but it didn’t. What frightened her more was the tension in him. ‘I’m okay.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘You don’t have to—’
Very suddenly, before she could say a word, he pulled her aside into the shadow of a gilded column, out of the way of the rest of the crowd. Then with firm hands he pushed her up against a wall and caged her there with his body, his palms on either side of her head as he looked down at her, his gaze blazing.
‘Don’t question me,’ he said in a low, rough voice. ‘You’remywife. I am responsible for your care and protection, and I will do it as I see fit.’
The ferocity in his voice shocked her as did the burning look in his eyes. He was staring at her as if he was furious with her, looming over her, his powerful body keeping her caged. And if she hadn’t known him, hadn’t known about his sister, she would have been frightened.
But she did know him and she wasn’t scared. Because he wasn’t angry. He was afraid for her. He was trying to protect her.
It’s not about you, come on. He’s still trying to save his sister even after all those years.
Her heart ached with a complicated kind of pain. Pain for the grief that still had a hold on him. Pain for how hard he drove himself. And pain for herself, that it wasn’t her specifically he was afraid for, because deep down, she wanted it to be.
But what a selfish thought that was. This man had too many burdens to bear already, he didn’t need her adding to them. What she should be doing was lightening the load.
So she reached up and cupped his hard jaw, trying to reassure him. ‘It’s okay. We can go home if you like. If that’s easier for you.’
The expression on his face didn’t change, his fierce gaze burning into hers for one long, unaccountable second.
Then he leaned forward and took her mouth.
Castor knew this wasn’t the place for such displays—not that he’d ever let it bother him in the past—but he couldn’t stop himself.
Her hand was on his jaw, her touch a sweet relief, and she smelled so warm and sexy and familiar. And right here, in the circle of his arms, no one could touch her, no one could hurt her. She was completely his. The dread that had gripped him the moment he’d had word that people from the Eastern European ring were here to take a look at Glory themselves.
Three weeks ago, it wouldn’t have concerned him. He knew his security was faultless and that she would be safe. But that was before he’d spent two weeks with her in his bed, holding her. Two weeks of her smile and her wonder and her simple joy at all the new things he’d introduced her to. Two weeks of taking care of someone and watching how it made a difference to them directly, instead of wondering if anything he did helped anyone. Because no matter how many people he helped, there were always more.
She gave him hope, that was the problem. For the first time in years, the weight he carried felt lighter when she was around, and that was dangerous. Because eventually he’d have to pick it back up again and he had to be strong when he did so. He couldn’t afford any weakness, any chink in his armour.
He’d thought he was fine though. The gala appearance was to solidify Glory’s presence as his wife, and his contact had already told him to expect an invitation from one of shadowy heads of the trafficking ring, which meant his ruse was working.
