Except the woman he’d married.
He avoided eyes that held no accusation, just tortured curiosity. Shame rose like bile. Sometimes his shame was so suffocating, he thought it would kill him.
His voice was toneless as he unleashed the mortifying truth. “Not one damned thing.”
Even without watching, he knew the tension drained from her. He braced for a volley of questions. But she didn’t speak. Which somehow forced him to explain.
“I couldn’t. I thought…” God above, this was humiliating. His hands formed f
ists at his sides. He gulped for air, which seemed in short supply in the dark room. “I thought…I think I’ll hurt you when I…when I bed you. I thought if I could take the edge off, it would go easier for you. I’d give up my life before I…I hurt you.”
Good God, he stammered like an embarrassed schoolboy. Heat prickled his neck.
He risked a glance at her. Astonishingly, her lips curved in a faint smile although her eyes were still somber. “I’d rather you hurt me than you went to another woman.”
He’d expected hysterics, rage, tears. Shock sent him tumbling headlong into speech. “I’d hoped to manage the act with a professional. I haven’t willingly touched anyone since Rangapindhi. And you’ve seen what happens to me when I do touch someone. I’m in a damnable state to bed an inexperienced girl. I’d hoped…if I could touch a stranger, I’d be able to touch you, manage the act without too much pain or clumsiness.” The final sour admission surged up. “But using that woman felt too much like betrayal.”
Her smile widened as if he’d done something wonderful instead of shabby and sordid. Devil take her, what was wrong with the girl? Nothing he said or did, no matter how vile, made her despise him as he deserved.
He couldn’t bear to look into her face any longer. Its beauty, its honesty, its love scourged his soul. On feet heavier than lead, he crossed the room to stare out the window.
The sky outside turned gray. His wedding night was over. And his bride was still a virgin.
She padded across to stand beside him. “It’s a new day.”
“We’ve got nothing but darkness ahead,” he said grimly, glancing at her.
“I don’t believe that.” She sounded tired but sure as she looked at him. The honesty in her eyes always cut right through him.
“You will.” He slumped onto the window seat. He felt empty, lost. He had no idea where they went from here. Not for the first time, he wondered if in marrying Charis, he’d inflicted worse harm on her than her stepbrothers ever could.
She stood too close, but at least she didn’t touch him. “Do you want to come to bed?” she asked hesitantly.
“No.” In the strengthening light, he saw her face more clearly. She looked exhausted, devastated. “You go.”
She shook her head and knelt on the thick red-and-blue rug at his feet, pulling his coat more securely around her shoulders. “You’ve had less sleep than I.”
“I’m used to it.”
She drew her knees up and linked her hands around them. With her loose hair tumbled around her, she looked absurdly young. Except the expression in her eyes spoke of heartbreaking experience. She’d changed in the last hour, taken on some of his darkness.
What he’d dreaded had come to pass. The poison of Rangapindhi had infected her bright spirit. And there was no antidote.
Her gaze was somber as she stared across the room at the burning embers in the hearth. Instinctively, Gideon lifted his hand to stroke the soft fall of her thick hair, to offer a moment’s comfort.
Then he remembered that such natural gestures were forever denied him. His heart contracted in agony as his hand dropped away from her.
Fourteen
Wearing only her shift, Charis waited alone in the big bed. It was late, past midnight, and the weather had turned colder during the day so a fire blazed in the grate.
No sound came from the parlor behind the closed door. She knew Gideon was in there, steeling himself for what he must do. She’d been steeling herself all day too. In her belly, huge ugly toads of fear somersaulted over each other. Her trembling fingers crushed the embroidered edge of the fine linen sheet.
Could consummating their marriage push him further into darkness?
Darkness hovered perilously close. She’d recognized that last night, when he’d told her about Rangapindhi. The magnitude of his suffering beggared belief.
Could she heal him? Could anyone?