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Numbness set in. Their wedding had been the moment she thought things had truly started to change. But now, to find out it had all been someone else’s idea, made her feel like the biggest fool. Hadn’t she just been asking why she couldn’t be happy with what she and Alaric had?
“Clara, I’m sorry—”
“Briony, it’s not your fault,” Clara interrupted as she laid a hand over her sister-in-law’s. “And it’s not Alaric’s, either. It was a lovely ceremony, regardless of who came up with what idea. I made an assumption and it surprised me to find out differently, that’s all.”
Briony watched her nervously. “Are you sure? You two seem so happy. I’d feel terrible if I ruined it with my big mouth.”
Clara looked across the room as Alaric conversed with Cass. As if he’d sensed her watching him, he glanced over at her and smiled. Could she really hold a grudge for something that hadn’t been done out of malice or hurt? Worse, how could she be upset with him when she hadn’t been entirely truthful about her own past?
She had a husband who worshipped her in bed, made her breakfast every morning and had once more begun to treat her like a partner in work. She would be a mother before the year was out, and welcoming a niece or nephew, too.
She breathed in, her resolve strengthening. The wedding ceremony may not have been Alaric’s idea. But she had so much more than she’d ever thought possible. She certainly had more with Alaric than she’d ever had with Miles.
Even if her husband didn’t return her love, she had his affection and his respect. It would be enough.
It had to be.
“You didn’t ruin anything, Briony.” She smiled at Alaric before turning back to her sister-in-law. “I’m very happy.”
Briony accepted her words with a relieved sigh and another apology before turning the topic back to baby names and nursery themes. She seemed to accept Clara’s words.
If only Clara could accept them herself.
Alaric closed the door to Clara’s room and turned, his body already anticipating finding his wife in bed waiting for him.
The bed was empty.
He glanced around the room, his pulse kicking up a notch. Clara had been fine until after dinner. After he’d finished talking with Cass and they’d rejoined their wives, she’d seemed a dimmer version of herself. Aloof, withdrawn, more like the Clara he had worked with for the first few years.
She’d engaged in conversation with Briony, chatted with Cass about the treaty, leaned into his touch as he’d sat next to her on the couch.
But something was different. As soon as Briony and Cass had bid them good-night, insisting on staying at a hotel in Geneva so as not to interrupt the honeymooners, she’d disappeared upstairs.
The muted sound of rushing water met his ears. He moved toward the bathroom door, pulling off his clothes as he went. It wasn’t just desire guiding his steps. It was the unsettling notion that had flared up every now and then when he would catch Clara looking at him with sadness in her gaze, or staring at something in the distance, a haunted look in her eyes.
He needed to ask her. Part of him didn’t want to press her or risk upsetting her. Yet he wanted to hear her answer, be reassured that she wasn’t concealing something from him. The possibility that after all he’d shared with her, she hadn’t trusted him with something created a gaping void in his chest that ached just at the thought of her not being honest with him.
Perhaps this was the result of giving in to his emotions more and allowing himself to experience his growing feeling of affection for his wife. It was hard not to wonder when this period of happiness would come crashing down and the next scandal or hardship would burst through the haven they’d created on the wintery shores of Lake Geneva.
He dismissed his worries as he opened the door. He moved to the shower, savoring the sight of his wife’s nude body through the wavy glass. Her head was tilted back, wet hair plastered to her back as she stood beneath the waterfall stream, skin glistening. Suds clung to her full breasts as her hand drifted down, a bar of soap in her fingers.
Dear God, he was jealous of a bar of soap.
The door to the shower creaked as he stepped inside. Her eyes shot open, her lips parting in surprise before they tilted up into a small smile.
“Hi.”
He stepped beneath the water and kissed her as if they’d been apart for hours instead of just minutes. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her wet body against his in an intimate manner that made his hard length throb with need.
“Clara,” he murmured against her lips. “Are you all right?”
She pulled back, her hands resting on his chest.
“I’m tired, but yes. It was nice seeing your sister and Prince Cass... Cass.”
He chuckled at the slight wrinkling of her nose.
“It’ll take some getting used to.” His hand drifted up to smooth a wet tendril of hair back from her face. “You seemed down after dinner.”
