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CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ASTHENIGHT wore on, the nerves in Tessa’s tummy grew tighter, more frantic, so when he went to draw her with him to his bedroom she stood where she was, feet planted on the floor.
On Epíneio, they’d shared a bed every night. There’d been no suggestion of anything else. But here she had her own room, her own space, and if she was to give that up, without knowing how he felt about her, she’d be lost, completely. This emergency marriage that had been entered into as a form of salvation would instead become a silent torment, one from which she could never escape. Because she didn’t want to leave Alex. Even loving him as she did, and believing that love to be unrequited, she couldn’t turn her back on him. She’d sooner endure the pain of that unreciprocated love than live without him.
‘I’m exhausted,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘I’m going to my own room.’
He arched his brow with such mocking curiosity that she was reminded immediately of the painting. ‘You think I can’t be trusted to keep my hands to myself?’
Her heart lurched. ‘I think you’re as big a risk as I am,’ she responded lightly, even though her heart was coiling tighter and tighter.
‘I like it when we share a bed. Tell me you don’t,’ he challenged.
‘I do.’ She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘But it’s not really—it doesn’t make sense.’ Her gut twisted.
‘Why not?’ His nostrils flared. ‘We are married. We were doing it on Epíneio and the world did not end.’
‘That’s different. The island is different.’
His frown deepened. ‘But we are the same people, no?’
She pulled a face. ‘Don’t be difficult about this, please.’
‘Difficult?’ he responded, dragging a hand through his hair. ‘Two hours ago, we made love as though it was essential for our very survival. Now you are saying you don’t want to so much as rest your head on one of my pillows, yet I’m being difficult?’
She nodded slowly. ‘That’s how it has to be here.’ She felt as though she were drowning.
‘You’re not serious? This again?’
‘What?’
‘The rules?’
If anything, his derisive response hardened her resolve. ‘Nothing’s happened to change them.’
‘Everything has changed,’ he responded, briefly giving her hope. She felt it flare and tried to tamp down on it, but hope was a powerful force and it rolled through her body now.
‘Has it?’
‘Of course.’ He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. ‘Look at how much better we know each other, Theresa. When you came to my office and we negotiated that damned contract, you were someone from my past.’
‘A mistake,’ she interjected with a hint of bitterness.
He ignored that. ‘And now you’re my wife.’ The last word was growled with possession and heat, so her body startled, but she stood still, holding her ground.
‘And what does that mean to you?’
His exasperation was obvious. ‘That we are married. A team. A good team.’
Her heart pounded with nerves. ‘That’s not enough for me,’ she whispered, terrified but knowing her instincts had been wrong: she couldn’t put this off, even when she was scared of what he might say. Somehow, knowing he didn’t love her would be so much worse than wondering if he did or not, and yet she wanted to have that answer.
‘What do you want, then?’ he asked, perfectly still, his expression unreadable.
She lifted a finger, toying with the strap of her dress, searching for words. ‘I want...’ She frowned, still so very anxious. ‘I need—’
‘Tell me,’ he urged, moving closer, the words laced with intensity.
‘I want this marriage to be real,’ she said finally, eyes lifting to his.
