All The Ways To Ruin A Rogue(77)

            Aurelia would want it all. The kind of happy marriage that Will and Dec had with their wives. He couldn’t do that.

            “More than my blessing actually,” Will clarified, his magnanimous tone a knife to his heart. “I’m happy about this. I’m happy that the both of you have found each other. You’ve been like a brother to me all these years. I know you’ll be the man my sister deserves.”

            Will be.

            A knot formed in his stomach. Even Will knew he wasn’t that man presently. Nor could he ever be. Crushing guilt weighed on his chest. How could he tell him not to have such high expectations? Max couldn’t change. Not even for Aurelia. True, he did not want her miserable. He’d take care of her. She’d want for nothing. Except love.

            He downed the last of his glass, hating himself right now. Hating himself for letting this happen. For being so weak.

            As much as he loathed pretending with Will, this wouldn’t be the time to make a confession on the true nature of their marriage. Not hours after he had just wed his sister. Hopefully, Aurelia would find contentment enough in their match. She didn’t have to move in with her Aunt Daphne at least.

            “Thank you,” he replied numbly, because he knew some response was expected. Words of some manner. “I will try . . .”

            He would try not to crush her heart.

            He wasn’t good enough. He’d seen to that a long time ago. He’d given himself away. Any bit of him that had been good or noble, he had lost long ago. Even if he could be a real husband to her, there was nothing left for her.

            Dec rose and refilled his glass, watching him intently, as though he had an inkling of the turmoil inside him. He had said very little while Will talked, after all.

            And that turmoil only churned stronger inside of him as he thought of Aurelia asleep upstairs. Alone in a bedchamber that adjoined his room. She was his for the taking. His wife and the woman who filled his every lust-filled fantasy. He could persuade her . . . seduce her. She was so responsive, and he knew what she liked. He could do it. It would be natural. Expected. The proper way to begin a marriage.

            Not to mention that being with her, having her, was all he craved.

            And yet, as insane as the notion was, he would not venture into her room.

            He would not touch her. He would not allow himself that slice of heaven.





            Chapter 19

            Her first week of marriage passed uneventfully. Each morning, Aurelia arrived ahead of Max to the dining table. She was usually sipping from a cup of steaming tea by the time he entered the room. Polite greetings were exchanged followed with intermittent conversation of only the most banal, meaningless subjects. Of course there was an undercurrent of tension that hummed as tight as a drawn bowstring. The eighth morning of her marriage began in much the same manner.

            “Good morning,” he greeted.

            “Good morning,” she returned, watching him over the rim of her cup as he seated himself. A servant stepped up and placed a plate before him as though by magic. She eyed his eggs and kippers. The same breakfast every day. He reached for the blackberry jam and began to liberally slather it on his toast. The same habit there as well. She was learning all his quirks.

            It felt intimate, watching him go about his breakfast. This was his regimen, and now she was a part of it, eating her porridge with honey and sipping her tea across from him, trading pleasantries. Almost like husband and wife. Almost. But not quite.

            They weren’t truly husband and wife. They were more like . . . housemates.

            “Did you sleep well?” he asked into the silence of the room.