“She was understanding. She knew it wasn’t my choice.”
“Do you still see her?”
“Now and again. She married a friend of mine. She’s happy.” He sighed. “It was all a very long time ago.”
“And you and she have never…”
“No,” he said quickly. “Her husband is my friend, and anyway, she is not like that—she is the most faithful of wives—”
He broke off, and there was a lengthy, uncomfortable pause. Eventually, Rose gave a little laugh and said, awkwardly, “Unlike me.”
He shifted beneath her, his shoulder rising under her cheek, urging her to look up. “Eve—”
She stayed stubbornly where she was.
“Eve, this is your first time with someone other than your husband, is it not? And you do not live with him anymore.”
She ignored that. He wasn’t to know she was being anything but unfaithful with him. “Why did you want to forget about the wedding?” she asked instead, determined to know the worst. “Was it so very dreadful?”
He did that humourless laugh again. She hated the sound of it. It was mirthless, a parody of laughter.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Gil was silent for so long that she began to wonder if he was going to answer her at all. And then he said, his voice bleak, “My wife showed me what I really am.”
It was so terribly unexpected that she lifted herself up to look down at him, too curious as to his expression to hide her own any longer. He met her searching gaze with eyes that were troubled. The wide, mobile mouth that had been smiling all last night was grim and unhappy. Unthinkingly, she brought a hand up to stroke the side of his face comfortingly. She had been ready to hear him say how ugly his wife was. How it had taken every bit of gall in him to bed her. Not this.
“What do you mean, she showed you what you are?”
He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The truth is, I hate talking about her. I’ve spoken about her more to you than I have to anyone else in the last five years.”
She stared at him, not understanding. Did he hate her, or just talking about her? Did talking about her just make him think about the woman he’d lost when he’d been forced to marry her? Or was it more personal than that, a physical disgust of how she’d looked then?
But what did it matter? She had learned enough to know that the chances of him agreeing to a reconciliation were nonexistent. And she didn’t think she even wanted it now. Knowing the truth about her “dowry” changed everything.
“Have you had many lovers since your marriage?” she asked, returning the conversation to a strangely less painful topic.
“Enough,” he said, and his gaze grew serious. “But I did not feel for any of them what I am feeling at this moment, Eve. For you. I didn’t think I could feel like this ever again.”
“I think you are mistaken,” she muttered unhappily. “You don’t know me.”
“No, I don’t. But I look at you and I feel as though I am two and twenty again. Full of hope and belief.” His voice was wistful, and when he saw the expression on her own face, his mouth twisted self-mockingly. “Ridiculous, aren’t I?”
She had been determined to tell him who she was. Have it all out with him. And now she couldn’t bear to. His words gave her a power over him she didn’t want, and she knew now that he would hate her if he learned the truth. Hate her even more, that was. She swallowed back the tears that threatened to fall.
“Not ridiculous,” she said, smiling. “Just sudden. Surprising.”
His expression softened, and she leaned down and kissed him.
“I want you again,” he breathed against her mouth.
“Then have me,” she sighed. “Once more before we rise.”
Chapter Ten
The second time began slow and tender. Dreamy. Gil uncovered Eve’s body in the soft dawn light and explored every dip and dale, every ridge and crevice. With lips. With fingertips.
Earlier, when she’d asked about Tilly, he’d thought of the contrast between them, Tilly’s pink-and-gold perfection against Eve’s subtler, darker beauty. And there had been no comparison. Not that he’d ever look back on his youthful love with anything but affection, but the draw of Eve was entirely different. Eve drew him with her own desire. Sweet, innocent Tilly had never displayed anything so vulgar.
He kissed his way up Eve’s back, adoring her shivering response and the tiny moan of pleasure that escaped her. On her shoulder blade, she bore a small, round, white scar. More of them on her neck, under her hair. He kissed them too. Even her imperfections were delightful to him. She turned in his arms as he drew level with her and captured his lips with her own, murmuring passionate pleas into his mouth and wrapping her legs around him. And suddenly, his patience was gone.