She closed her eyes briefly, tightly, before turning away once more. She simply stared at the floor and he watched her lovely profile, never more pained by anything in his life. He wanted to comfort her so badly but knew that would be a mistake. He couldn’t touch her; they had to work their way through this and it was not going to happen if he could not control his urge to feel her.
Slowly, he stood up and went to the fire again, pretending to stoke it when it was already a roaring blaze. It was safer if he stayed away from her at the moment, at least until he got himself under control. As he poked at the fire, he began to hear the soft strain of painful sobs.
“You are right,” she whispered, followed by a huge guffaw of agony. “God help me, you are right. I do not want you to be right but I know that you are.”
He turned to look at her as she folded forward on the bed, her head buried in the dirty pillow. His heart shattered as he watched her sob, her slender body heaving with sorrow. His hand tightened on the poker and he turned back to the fire, shoving at the wood with increasingly harsh mannerisms. The more she wept, the sharper his movements became. He knew that if he let go of that poker, all would be lost. He would go to her and take her in his arms to soothe her and then he would not be able to control himself.
“I am sorry, Rhys,” she was speaking to him as he struggled. “I am sorry I have asked you to compromise your honor. I am sorry I have pressured you and pushed you to accept something that you know is not right. Truly, I am sorry. You must think me a horrid woman.”
He was gripping the poker so tightly that he was shaking. But he turned to look at her, a risky move. “I do not think you horrid,” he said softly. “You are brave in that you seek what you want. You do not surrender easily and that is a noble quality.”
He was making her sound far more honorable than she knew she was. He was making excuses for her behavior and it made her love him all the more.
“Nay,” she shook her head, looking away from him. “I am like Eve in the Garden of Eden. I have tried to tempt you into doing something wrong. Only there is no serpent involved. I am the serpent as well, evil and unkind. Forgive me.”
His mounting resolve against her was weakening again. “There is nothing to forgive. You have done nothing wrong except follow your heart.”
She turned to look at him again, studying the powerful lines of his face. It occurred to her that all of this truly had to end. After what he had just told her, the threat that would follow them the rest of their lives should they give in to temptation, she knew that she could no longer entertain any hope. And suddenly, it was if a flame just blew out. The light went out of her.
“But to do so would condemn us both,” she murmured, wiping at the remaining tears on her face. “I could not do that to you. I do not, in fact, care what happens to me, but I could not do that to you. I could not destroy who you are. Please forgive me for unreasonably tempting you. I had no right.”
He saw something die in her eyes as she said it and something went out of him, too. But he realized that he did not want it to die, this powerful emotion that had consumed him. He had spent the better part of a week trying to reason his way out of it, discouraging her from feeling the same. Now that it was leaving, he didn’t want it to go. He was not sure what, exactly, he wanted, or where this could truthfully end up, but he did not want it to die. It was far too precious.
“You did not unreasonably tempt me,” he stood up, poker still in hand. “For everything you are feeling, you must realize that I am feeling it too.”
She nodded her head slightly, then shrugged. It was a weary gesture. “Let us speak no more of it. If we are ever to forget this, then we must ignore it.”
He sighed heavily and leaned the poker against the wall. Before he could reply, there was a knock at the door and he opened it. The serving wench entered with a tray of food; brown bread, crumbly white cheese, cheap wine and some kind of cold meat. She set it all on the small table and left the room with another seductive glance at Rhys; he wasn’t even looking at her. He shut the door so fast that he smacked her in the bottom with it. Then he threw the bolt.
“I am sure I cannot vouch for the quality of this food, but at least it is something,” he said, going to the table and pouring two cups of wine. He extended one to her. “Here.”
She shook her head and lay down, rolling onto her side so that she was facing away from him. “Thank you, I am not hungry.”
He watched her cozy up against the far wall, rolling into a ball. “You have not eaten since this morning,” he said. “You must have something.”