“I think it’s a mistake,” Cecily said. “You should just talk to him, Aurelia.”
He had said everything there was to say. Theirs would be a marriage without love. Without children. She shivered, thinking of his reaction when she revealed that one part of his grand plan was no longer even possible.
“Perhaps,” she allowed, looking her friend squarely in the eyes, and shrugged. “But then it wouldn’t be my first mistake.”
Max returned home early. He couldn’t help himself. Staying away from her a moment longer felt like punishment, and he wasn’t keen on punishing himself. He’d never been one to refrain from taking his pleasures where he saw fit, and it turned out that his wife was a great pleasure indeed.
He nodded to a footman positioned in the foyer near the base of the stairs as he headed up the steps to his chamber, his boots biting into the plush runner with dogged resolve. Silence hummed through the house. The dinner hour had passed. Aurelia would likely be in her chamber by now.
Entering his room, he tugged his cravat loose with an aggravated yank. Things could not continue as they were. Avoiding her during the day. It was ridiculous. He wanted her. She wanted him. They were married. There was no reason why they couldn’t be enjoying each other more frequently.
He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. God knew he didn’t want any other woman. He’d tried. He hadn’t returned to Sodom, but that didn’t mean opportunities hadn’t presented themselves in the course of his daily customs. Except there was only Aurelia. In his mind. Under his skin. In his blood. He wanted her in his bed. Even after these weeks, they’d barely scratched the surface of all the things he wanted to do to her.
He stopped and caught sight of himself in the cheval mirror. He looked like hell. Eyes red-rimmed. Face drawn, hair mussed from constantly running his hands through it. He couldn’t go on this way. He’d been with many women . . . but none had ever reached inside him. None had rooted so deeply.
The problem was that Aurelia wanted everything. She wanted the fairy tale. She was still the little girl with big dreams chasing puppies. He’d seen that dreamy look in her eyes these past weeks. Even though he had put their relationship into perspective at the beginning. No children. No love. She still hoped for it. He knew that. She wanted what he couldn’t give—the kind of marriage Dec and Will shared with their wives. He wouldn’t be like his father, quick to eat a bullet at the inevitable loss of love. He wouldn’t.
He stopped before their adjoining door. They could still have a good life without love. They could have a life in which they came together and enjoyed each other. Only, perspective must not be lost. It wouldn’t be right for either one of them to come to expect or rely on each other in any regard. Even shagging. It didn’t have to be messy or complicated.
He was certain if they just spent more time together—in bed—he could purge her from his blood. And that would be best. For both of them. He knocked once at the adjoining room door and entered.
“Oh,” Cecily softly exclaimed as he stopped in the threshold. She straightened from where she held a stack of linens, her big brown eyes blinking owlishly.
“Pardon me.” His gaze flicked around the chamber as though he would find Aurelia lurking in some corner. “I was searching for my wife.”
Cecily cast her eyes downward, her hand smoothing over the linens. “She is not here, my lord.”
He took one step deeper into the room. “Where is she?”
“She went out for the evening, my lord.”
“Out where?” he persisted, feeling unaccountably annoyed. This wasn’t what he had anticipated. She was supposed to be here.
She looked at him and away again. “Oh . . . I believe she mentioned a dinner party . . .”