But the factors that made him an unsuitable consort for this glorious girl remained as stark as ever.
Whatever private bliss life with his wife now promised, he was still a physical and mental wreck. His immediate strained reaction today to St. Helier’s bustle confirmed that. The frail seedling of hope that had uncurled inside him this morning had shriveled as he’d felt the old, crushing, sick reaction to the crowd. Painful reality had crashed down upon him in all its inexorable grimness.
What a fool he’d been to believe this temporary reprieve meant a permanent cure to his ills. He’d never lead a normal life, he’d always have to hold himself apart, isolated. He couldn’t lock someone like Charis away from the world and hoard her like a miser hoarded his gold. It wasn’t fair, and eventually, he knew, she’d chafe at the restrictions of life with a recluse. He couldn’t bear to see her bright spirit flicker and go out.
She said she loved him. But for all her sweet passion and determination, he wasn’t convinced she suffered anything more than a particularly virulent case of hero worship. What he was firmly convinced of was his complete unworthiness. He’d failed so many times. He couldn’t bear to contemplate failing her. As he surely would. Better he set her free to find the man she deserved.
He bit back his agony at the idea of her falling in love with someone else. He had to think of her future and not his own selfish desires.
Except that right now, his own selfish desires were paramount, unstoppable. He should leave her to sleep alone, but he already knew he wouldn’t. The astonishing joy he’d found in her arms, when he’d thought any joy at all lost forever, made restraint impossible.
St. Augustine’s self-serving prayer flickered through his mind. Lord, grant me chastity and continence. But not yet.
Charis lifted her wine but didn’t drink; instead, she stared into the red depths with a troubled expression. “If you’re sure it’s an almighty mistake, why did you kiss me?”
Ah, smart girl, to pick the kiss as the betrayal of his principles rather than this morning’s volcanic lovemaking. He told her the simple, incontrovertible truth. “Because, God help me, I can’t resist you.”
Startled, she looked up, and a smile of utter delight curved her full lips. “Really?”
She was so pleased with herself, he couldn’t help laughing. Although he was a villain to encourage her belief that they could find happiness. It was a role he suspected he’d become accustomed to in coming days. Because, having tasted her, there was no way on this earth he could keep his hands off her while they shared these rooms.
Still, even as he acknowledged her power, his reply held an edge. “Yes, damn you, really.”
“Well, that’s all right, then.” She put down her wine, stood, and rang for the servants.
Surprised, he turned in his chair to watch her. “Is that it? No more inquisition?”
“For the moment.”
He heaved a sigh of masculine relief although he didn’t trust this sudden docility.
As the maids cleared dinner, tidied the room, built up the fire, prepared the bedroom, he stood beside the mantel, holding himself apart. Just this much activity around him, and his sinews tightened with revulsion.
No, he was far from cured, God damn it to hell.
The chilling knowledge seeped into his bones. Briefly, he closed his eyes, trying to summon will to deny Charis—and himself. But will was putty against the potent lure of desire.
He and his wife would make love tonight. Anticipation fizzed in his veins. He sipped at his claret, wondering when he’d last spent an evening with a lovely woman, knowing they’d end up in bed.
She looked across from where she sat, pretending to read a book, and sent him a secret smile. She knew how the night would end too.
Gideon drew a deep breath as the door closed behind the last servant. Now just he and Charis remained, and the air suddenly seemed clearer, cleaner. He ignored the howl from his conscience that he had no right to touch his wife when he was such a disaster.
His eyes fastened on Charis as she set aside her book. He stayed where he was, enjoying the crescendo of expectation. His hands itched to drag her close for a drugging kiss. To discover what marvels lay under her lovely red gown.
She stepped up to him and took his wineglass away, her fingers brushing his gloved hand. Even that much contact would have once set him shaking and sweating. Now it just aroused sizzling need. Her carnation scent drifted out to whisper promises of paradise.
“Will you do something for me, Gideon?” she asked softly.
A dim warning sounded. In his besotted daze, he hardly heeded it. “It depends.”
Her lips tilted upward as she placed the glass on the mantel. “That’s hardly gallant. A true gentleman would obey my slightest whim.”
“I’d say that gentleman didn’t know you very well.”
She laughed softly, and the husky sound made his gut churn with longing. For all his brave words, he’d lie down and die if she asked him.
“So suspicious.”