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Craving Beauty(19)

By:Nalini Singh




This time there were no tears. Hira's face paled under that golden skin   and then she whispered, "And you say you are nice to me? I'm alone and   without family in this land. You know I have no one and so you can say   these things."



His gut roiled, the burst of anger buried under an avalanche of self-hatred. "Hira..."                       
       
           



       



She kept talking. "I thought, maybe, you were a good man but you are just like my father."



He bristled. "I'm nothing like that tyrant."



"My mother always had to beg him for money." She damned him with those   exotic eyes. "Oh, she was given expensive clothes and jewels. Father   made sure they were delivered to her like clockwork. We had to keep up   the-what is the word-yes, image.... We had to keep up the image of the   rich merchant."



Marc just stood there, letting her talk in that soft voice that was so   unlike the vivid woman he'd come to know, feeling more and more   despicable with every word she spoke. Until he'd married, he hadn't   known he had such a volatile temper. No one else had ever made him angry   enough to be cruel.



"But she had to ask him for every cent if she ever needed spending money   or money to buy her children gifts, or even to go out to have lunch   with a friend. Because of their uniqueness, she couldn't sell the jewels   without destroying the reputation of the family, so she was dependant   on him." Her eyes were distant and pain filled, as if she were reliving   the humiliation her mother had gone through day after day.



"He'd sit in his study chair like a pasha and have her stand there like a   supplicant, with no rights. He'd make her beg for money as if it was   not her entitlement as his wife, who worked so hard to make his life   agreeable. As if she hadn't borne him three children, even though she   was a fragile woman whom the doctors had advised to stop with only one."   Sadness filled every word, ripping at his heart. "And yet he made her   beg. Even the lowliest servant was ensured of his weekly wages but not   my mother of her income." Her chest was heaving, the only sign of the   anger she'd subsumed so well.



"Okay," he said. He'd never been a man who ran from the harsh reality of his own flaws.



"I don't understand." Her eyes remained wary, the haunted shade of a   wild creature who'd been captured and was waiting for the pain to begin.



Guilt twisted like a knife inside of him. "I agree that I was a complete   and utter jerk. There's no excuse for what I just said."



She seemed taken aback, "Why do you say this?"



He blew out a breath. "I wish to hell I didn't have a temper but I do.   I'm as mean as the gators that roam the waters around here, and you got   bit. But I can tell you that you aren't ever going to have to beg." The   image of her proud spirit being crushed infuriated him.



The next time he went to Zulheil, he'd ensure that his mother-in-law had   a separate account with enough funds in it to allow her to live in   peace. He knew Amira wouldn't take the money from him but she'd accept a   gift from Hira. Such a gift would likely rock the foundation of Marc's   relationship with Kerim Dazirah, but he didn't give a damn.



He put his hands on his hips in an attempt to keep them off his wife. He   wasn't much good at finding the words a woman needed to forgive a man,   but when he touched his wife, she became his in the most raw sense of   the word. And right now the temptation to make her his was almost   unbearable. "An account was set up for you when we married and money   transferred into it. Monthly payments will be made into it   automatically."



"What is the money for?" she asked quietly. There was such fragile   dignity in her that he knew she still expected to be hurt by him. And   the hell of it was, he couldn't deny that he had hurt her, that she had a   right to look so shell-shocked. But, damn it, he wanted to wipe that   look off her face. He wasn't a saint but neither was he a man who   enjoyed the suffering of others.



Especially not of his wife.



"It's yours to do with as you wish. Invest it, use it for your   education, blow it in Vegas, whatever you like." He could tell Hira   wasn't quite sure how to take this revelation.



"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asked.



"I forgot." The truth was, he'd liked paying the bills for his wife's   purchases, liked the proprietariness of such an act. Liked knowing she   needed him for something. "The documents for your bank account are in my   office."



He began to walk to the house. She followed with barely a sound. Once in   his study, he found the passbook and charge cards and handed them  over.



She gasped when she saw the amount that had already been deposited.   "Husband! This is far too much money." Her eyes were darker than he'd   ever before seen.



He shrugged. "I'm very rich."



Putting the passbook and cards on his desk, she looked straight at him. "You must take it back."



"What? Why? I thought you'd appreciate the independence." He scowled.                       
       
           



       



She didn't back down. "I've done nothing to deserve it."



"You're my wife." A wife he wanted with more than simple lust. The way   she'd held his boys, the way she'd laughed with them, the way she   challenged him with her wit and her honesty, wasn't something he wanted   to lose.



"And yet I do nothing that a wife does," She didn't break his gaze as   she made that confession. "I don't run this house as it is run very well   by the strangers who come in on schedule, do their silent cleaning and   leave. I don't help with your business. I am not the mother of your   children." Her shoulders squared. "My mother isn't a strong woman, but   she does many things to earn her income."



God, he thought, she was so proud and so very vulnerable because of it.   His Hira, his wife, could be hurt by a well-placed barb that would   strike her pride before anything else. Taking a deep breath, he made a   decision that might either save his marriage or expose the cracks in the   foundation to the bright light of day.



"And so will you. Things have been quiet on the business front since we   married, but they're about to heat up." He frowned, thinking of one   particular acquisition. "When negotiations take place in informal   settings, such as this house, you'll act as a second pair of eyes, ears   and even hands, for me."



"I'll expect you to know the finest of fine details and get me any   information I request, ASAP. I won't cut you any slack just because   you're my wife. I'll be demanding as hell and I won't tolerate any   mistakes. Such negotiations are worth millions. Think you can handle   that?"



The offer wasn't just a sop to her pride. A lot of deals were in fact   completed here, away from the often virulent media interest. He'd never   allowed anyone but himself to be privy to the final stages of those   sensitive deals. Until now.



"You would trust me with this?" Nervous excitement glittered in her   eyes, but her words were hesitant, as if she wasn't sure she could   believe his offer.



"I may be a jerk but I'm not stupid. Not only are you too proud to ever   betray my confidence, you're a very intelligent woman." He knew that,   had known it almost from the day they'd married, so why had he hurt her   like that outside?



Was he afraid that she'd discover a tempting new world of academic grace   and forget her bayou beast of a husband? Despite his wealth, he'd  never  quite lost the rough edges of his upbringing, but until he'd  married  Hira, he hadn't given any thought to them. Yet lately he'd  begun to  wonder if his lack of refinement was one of the reasons his  wife  maintained her emotional distance.



Shock that his motivations might be rooted in jealousy and fear made him   curse himself in self-disgust. He'd crawled up so far, and yet he was   still the boy who'd pressed his nose against the windows of the   Barnsworthy house and declared that one day he'd be oh the other side of   the glass. That boy had believed that once you had something, you   clutched at it with all your strength. Setting something free only meant   you'd lose it for good.