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He frowned. “Because I wouldn’t bed you?”
“Because you are too familiar with them. But yes, that too,” she said sadly and entered her dressing room.
Left alone in her room, Rhys looked around once more. It was completely different from how it had been before.
The formerly dark green and golden hues had been changed to warmer colors, the walls were welcoming, and the curtains calmly fell in waves to the ground. Even the scent in the room was tender and sweet. He suddenly realized that he would rather enjoy spending his nights in this chamber. He only hoped his own room would be just as charming.
He looked at the bed and was reminded of the unpleasant fact that he, too, needed to change his clothing. It was unpleasant because his nightshirt was back in his room. And he did not look forward to returning to the freezing chamber, especially since he had just warmed up.
With a sigh of resignation, he stepped back into his room and quickly changed into his nightshirt. As the cold sank its teeth into his flesh, Rhys’s loins shrunk back to their original size, and his mind cleared from the lusty haze.
Now Rhys could finally contemplate the horrific realization that he wanted his wife. Previously, when he had acted rash and kissed her in the park, he had rationalized to himself that he’d been angry, and kissing her served as an outlet of his rage. He wouldn’t hit a woman no matter what, but the kiss was punishment enough.
He wasn’t naive or foolish, but these thoughts were easy to entertain when he’d had no more contact with her than coming across her in the hall and dining with her twice a day.
Now that he’d seen her in dishabille, he could say for certain that the picture of her, half-clad, with hair down to her waist, was forever engraved in his mind. And as long as he remembered her that way, he could never say confidently that he did not want her.
Because as soon as he entertained that lie, he would immediately reach into the hidden, dark vault in his mind and recollect her image in that blasted nightgown.
When Rhys walked back into his wife’s chamber, he was blessedly frozen to the bone again. As long as his loins were not in any condition to get excited, he wouldn’t do or say anything he’d regret.
Luckily for him, Lady Isabel was already in her bed. Her white, ruffled nightgown peaked out slightly from under the covers, and her hair was collected under a crime of a nightcap.
Lying like that, burrowed in the huge bed, she should have looked absolutely unappealing to him. But his mind retrieved the picture of her alluring physique out of its dark vault and flaunted it in front of Rhys’s eyes.
So the only thing Rhys could see as he looked at her bundled body was her soft, white skin, her leg peeking out of the deep slash of a transparent skirt.
Rhys shook his head and walked toward the bed. He doused the lights and crawled under the sheets.
