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He’d happily argue with her all day if it meant making up with her tonight.
But she didn’t feel the same. Reading the scorn she didn’t bother to hide, he felt something shrivel within him. He blinked. She wasn’t just angry but contemptuous too.
He spoke slowly, grappling with that. ‘I’m trying to protect you, Elisabeth.’
She shook her head so vehemently, her dark ponytail lashed around her shoulders. ‘It doesn’t matter what you’re trying to do. I won’t accept that excuse. Ever since we met, ever since we married, you’ve made every decision, expecting me to follow wherever you lead. But I’m not accepting that anymore, Jack. From now on I make my own decisions.’
Jack stared. ‘Excuse? I don’t need an excuse to try to protect my wife.’ Didn’t she understand he had her best interests in mind?
‘I prefer to protect myself. And to make my own decisions rather than be dictated to.’ Her belligerent stare was a direct provocation.
As ifhewere the enemy here, rather than the one running interference between her and the paparazzi. His heart raced and his stomach churned, rejecting the idea. Leaden silence settled as he took that in.
‘You really want to go to your flat?’
He’d seen a photo of the place. Insufficient security. Minimal escape routes to escape the photographers.
She folded her arms over her chest. ‘I do.’
Jack pressed the intercom and spoke to the driver. ‘A change of direction.’ He gave Elisabeth’s address, watching her eyes widen as she realised he knew where she lived.
‘You never told me.’
Her mouth flattened. ‘Never told you what?’
‘That you don’t like me protecting you. Being decisive and—’
‘It’s more than being decisive. It’s not respecting me enough to make my own decisions, and I did tell you, in Paris.’
Jack scowled, searching his memory and crossing his own arms, mirroring her combative attitude. He felt combative himself. He’d been accused of many things but never of bullying women. That would be too much like his father’s behaviour and one thing he’d always prided himself on was how different he was to his old man.
‘I don’t recall any such complaint.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘The night you told me you’d married me for my pristine reputation and you didn’t want it marred by my friendship with Lara.’
‘I have no recollection of you saying that.’
That night was a blur of pain. He had minimal recall except of his blinding headache, annoyance that the evening had gone badly and an expression on his wife’s face that he’d never seen before, one he never hoped to see again. Distress combined with hurt and anger.
She stared as if trying to read the truth in his face. Slowly he shook his head. ‘I’m not lying, Elisabeth. I’ve never lied to you.’ He let that sink in before continuing. ‘Whatever it was you accused me of that night, I didn’t take it in. Nor,’ he added, impatience building, ‘did you tell me this in the Caribbean.’
His molars clenched as he recalled her abrupt departure, just when he thought things were finally right, better than right, between them. ‘Instead of running away,twice, you could have done me the courtesy of explaining.’
Colour flushed her cheeks and throat. ‘I did explain in my text. That physical passion isn’t enough for me. You and I want different things in a marriage. That’s what matters.’ When he didn’t say anything she went on. ‘I heard you on the phone that day to Leanne, planning our return to Paris and a move to Berlin, even organising what I should wear. But I’m not a doll to be dressed up and paraded around. I’m awoman!’
As if he wasn’t fully aware of that fact.
Even bristling with negative energy, and with her every word widening the gap between them, Elisabeth’s femininity spoke on the most primal level to the most masculine part of him. He wanted her, not just sexually, but in ways he couldn’t explain.
The enormity of that need was what had brought him from Paris to rescue her. That and the connection between them that heknewstill existed, despite her furious words.
He still wanted to rescue her, though she looked as if she’d like to bury him.
Too bad. They had things to discuss, important things, like the child she might be carrying. His pulse quickened on the thought, but this wasn’t the place for that discussion.
‘If you’d stayed around to talk I would have explained that I was trying to make things easier for you.’ He paused, holding her gaze. ‘I didn’t want you stressed trying to prepare in such a tight timeframe for such a prestigious event with all the world’s eyes on us. You missed the worst of the press attention while you were gallivanting off to Africa and Asia, but the gossip was relentless and brutal. I thought it my duty, if you came back with me,’ his voice grew rough, ‘to shield you as much as possible. At least to give you the armour of a fabulous couture outfit for the occasion.’
Her eyes widened and for a moment he’d almost swear he’d taken her by surprise. But instead of accepting his word she tightened her mouth and looked away. When she turned back her expression was so devoid of warmth he felt a chill skate across his bones.
