The clock chimed twice. Two o’clock in the morning. Rose rolled away from Gil and onto her back.
She would not allow herself to think about the future anymore. Not until she had told him who she was.
Gil woke around dawn just as the sun began rise, its rays penetrating the cracks between the drapes and illuminating the bedchamber with dull, grey-washed light. He shifted onto his side, propping his head on his palm, and looked down at the woman sleeping at his side.
He wanted her again. And again. He wanted to keep her forever.
He knew he was being hasty. Yesterday morning, he’d have said that devoting himself to a single woman was an absurd idea. But now there was Eve, and meeting her had changed everything. Nothing would ever be the same again.
He wanted to tell her how he felt. He wanted her to know that she’d caused this revelation within him. Perhaps, when she woke, he’d try to broach the subject. Surely she felt this too?
He didn’t know how long he watched her, but when she finally shifted and sighed, daylight was fairly streaming through drapes, the sun well and truly risen. She yawned and slowly opened eyes, her eyes widening almost comically when she realised he was staring down at her. He smiled warmly. “Good morning.”
She recovered herself then, smiling back shyly. “Good morning.”
He leaned down and kissed her, gently. She seemed taken aback for a moment; then the tension left her, and she gave herself up to his kiss, her mouth opening beneath his. His hand came up to brush her silky hair back from her face, exposing the tender column of her throat and the fine shape of her collarbone. Unable to resist the lure of those hollows, he moved his mouth to trace over the smooth, creamy skin.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured.
“So are you,” she whispered.
He laughed lightly against her skin. “Beautiful? I’m no beauty, darling. More of a beast.”
“You’re blind,” she said, and he laughed. She smiled sleepily and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging him up to kiss him again.
He let her initiate that kiss, and it was…beguiling. Bold and tentative all at once. A study of his mouth. He moaned lightly as her lips drifted over his, and he felt her light, huffing laughter at his reaction, her slender fingers stroking the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Eve, Eve,” he murmured against her lips. “Am I falling in love with you? Can it happen so quickly?”
In an instant, she went stiff, pushing him away and staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.
“Sorry,” he whispered. That was a lie. He wasn’t sorry. Disappointed at her horrified reaction, yes. Worried that his words might drive her away. But beneath that, there was an oddly joyous certainty and a passion for confession. He’d never felt so clear in his own mind about anything. He wanted to say the words again, and he felt almost sure of the answer to his own question. With difficulty, he remained silent and drew her down to rest against his body. She laid her head on his shoulder.
After a brief silence, he said, “Tell me about your husband.”
She lifted her head, regarding him warily. “What do you want to know?”
“You said you were estranged. Do you never see him?”
“No,” she said her voice clipped. “Never.”
“And why is that? Has he ever—” He broke off. “Has he ever hurt you? Physically, I mean?”
She looked surprised by the question, staring at him for several long moments before she jerkily shook her head.
He wasn’t sure he believed her. Her expression was guilty. But then she shook her head again, more definitely this time. “Not physically, no. He has never laid so much as laid a finger on me. I swear. He is merely—distant.”
Gil shifted position, turning onto his side so they were face-to-face. “You needn’t ever go back to him, you know. I could set you up. We wouldn’t be able to marry, but I could get you a house of your own.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded. “This is very sudden,” she said at last. “What about your wife?”
“My wife and I do not live together,” he replied. “We never have, and that’s not going to change.”
“Not ever?” Her voice came out in a thready whisper.
“No.” The word emerged without the slightest hesitation.
“But you have no children,” she pointed out weakly. “No heir.”
“I have a younger brother,” he said. “He is my heir.”
Rose stared at her husband.
He’d rather die childless than come near me.
She knew that if she had more courage, this was the moment to tell him: I am Rose. I am your wife. But she found she could not do it. Instead, she whispered, with morbid curiosity, “Do you ever see her?”