He hadn’t thought he could hate his father any more. He’d been wrong.
To brutally raise Ivy’s hopes like this, all in the hope of tricking her into taking his unicorn…even for his father, it was beyond cruel.
“I don’t think he is, Hugh.” Ivy twisted her gloved hands together, her face pale.
She’d been evasive and on edge all day, but he’d put that down to apprehension about the ball this evening. He knew how much she feared crowds. But now it was clear that something else had been on her mind. Something much worse.
“Your father showed me some documents from your family archives this afternoon, while you were busy working on Hope,” Ivy continued. “Stuff from the time of the third Earl. Private love letters, calling his wife my mate. And one single letter from a friend, thanking him for healing a relative. Written three years after the Earl married. Your father has evidence that supports his theory.”
“He has lies!” His fists clenched, as though he could physically fight the false hope rising, treacherously, in his own mind. “It’s a trick. Forgeries. It isn’t true. It can’t be true. He just wants an heir for his precious estate. He’d say anything to dupe me into providing one.”
“Hugh, he…” Ivy stopped, as if she’d thought better of whatever she’d been about to say. “Never mind. Look, forget about your dad for a minute. What does your unicorn say?”
He didn’t want to turn his attention inward, for fear of what he might find. Taking a deep breath, he made himself do it anyway.
Well? he said to his inner animal.
Its sapphire eyes were as steady as always. She is our mate. We are her mate.
“You bastard beast, that’s not an answer!” He realized that he’d roared the words out loud, and forced himself to moderate his voice. “Are we torturing ourselves for nothing? Is it true that you wouldn’t be destroyed if we mated? That I’d still be able to heal?”
The great head bowed. The light from its horn dimmed a little, like a cloud passing over the moon.
I do not know, his unicorn said softly. All I know is that she is our mate. Nothing else matters.
“It does!” Unable to restrain his frustration, he slammed a fist into the wall, caving a hole into a decorative plasterwork panel. “Damn you!”
“I take it that wasn’t a productive conversation,” Ivy said.
He shook out his hand, his knuckles stinging. “My mother is going to be bloody furious about that molding,” he muttered. “Workmen who can repair eighteenth century plasterwork are rare as unicorns.”
With a sigh, he sat down on the bed next to her, before he damaged any more irreplaceable architecture. “My animal’s no damn use whatsoever. As usual. What does your wyvern say?”
She went still, her green gaze focusing inward. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment.
“That we will never hurt you. Because you’re our mate.” She pulled a face, wrinkling her nose. “But this is the animal who wants to breathe acid over people who cut in front of me at the bus stop, so I wouldn’t count on it for good advice.”
“So we’re right back where we started. We only have my father’s word for it. And I can tell you how much that is worth.” He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his temples, trying to control the turmoil in his mind. “I can’t risk it, Ivy. I just can’t. If he’s wrong—if he’s lying—I’d lose everything. We’d lose everything.”
“I know.” She stared down at her knees. “I wasn’t sure if I should even tell you. But I didn’t want there to be secrets between us. I’m sorry.”
His anger leeched away at the stricken remorse in her expression. He put an arm around her tense, hunched shoulders, drawing her to him.
“No, I’m sorry,” he said. “You were right to tell me. I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us either. Not ever again.”
She leaned against his side, face turned into the hollow of his shoulder. Her arms wrapped around his waist, clinging onto him with desperate ferocity. He buried his own face in her hair. As always, her storm-rain scent spiked longing through his blood.
How easy it would be to pull her into his lap. To feel her sweet heat straddling him, soft thighs wrapped over his hips. To nip and nuzzle lower, following the beckoning curve of her neck. To unbutton her top and lose himself in the intoxicating curves of her lush breasts, pulling wordless sounds of pleasure from her mouth with every lick and suck…
With a sound that was half-sigh, half-sob, Ivy pulled away from him. Her flushed face betrayed that she too had been having much the same line of thought.
“Sorry,” she said, abruptly getting off the bed. “I can’t—it’s not safe for me to be so close to you. I’m not in control tonight. I know you’re right, we can’t risk it, but I can’t help thinking about it.”
He knew what she meant. His own head was a raging maelstrom of emotion. Anger and desire, fear and bitter rage, and winding through it all was still a stupid, stupid thread of hope. Even now, as he looked at her, some treacherous corner of his mind was still whispering what if, what if…
Ivy twitched her shoulders, as if physically shaking herself free of some unwanted thought. “I think I need to get some fresh air and cool off. It’s been a while since I shifted, and that always puts me on edge. Is it okay
if I go out for a bit?”