“Oh, Sebastián.” Isabel’s big eyes began to shine. “Is that why you were so upset with me for drinking last night? I’m not usually like that, I promise.”
I tensed at the mention of last night. Of how I’d dragged her from the party and disciplined her. I hadn’t intended for her punishment to turn sexual, but I’d lost control again. I’d thought her similarities with Maria were what made me weak around her, but I’d been careful not to look into her eyes. Unfortunately for both of us, I was fiercely attracted to my young wife, and it had nothing to do with the ghost from my past.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said. “I shouldn’t have let things go that far.”
To my shock, she placed her hand on mine in a comforting gesture. My skin tingled beneath her tender touch.
“You were having a nightmare,” she reassured me. “It sounds like what you went through on the farm was awful. And with your father…” A tear slid down her cheek, baffling me into stunned silence.
Was she crying for me?
She squeezed my hand in a gentle pulse and wiped the tear away quickly. “I understand why you must’ve had that dream. You were so upset about me getting drunk at the party. I’m sorry that it brought up bad memories for you.”
I shook my head slightly, astounded at her compassion. No one was ever gentle with me. And I never let anyone touch me. Not like this. There was a reason I’d made her grip the bedpost last night when I’d tormented her with pleasure.
“That’s not what I meant,” I clarified, struggling to get the words out right. “I mean what happened between you and me. I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I lost control, and I’m sorry.”
Her cheeks flushed, and her dark lashes lowered to hide her expressive eyes. “I lost control too,” she said quietly.
The door between the kitchen and dining room opened, and Isabel tried to jolt away from me. My fingers closed over hers, ensnaring her dainty hand in mine. Her eyes flew wide, her thick lashes brushing her brows.
“Excuse me.” I was peripherally aware of the chef speaking to us. “I can come back later.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, not taking my eyes off Isabel’s lovely face. I needed to learn to control myself around her, for her sake. I’d sworn to protect her, and that meant protecting her from myself too.
I forced my fingers to unfurl, releasing her hand.
“Bring me a plate too,” I requested, still looking into Isabel’s shining eyes. I couldn’t seem to break away, even though I’d managed to let go of her hand.
“You want to have dinner with me?” she asked when the chef disappeared into the kitchen again.
I nodded, settling into my decision. Avoiding my wife hadn’t done anything to dull my dangerous fascination with her. We’d have to learn to live together. I’d have to resist my most primal urges when I was near her.
“I know neither of us wants to be in this marriage, but we are,” I said. “The least we can do is have dinner together.”
“But I thought you hated me,” she blurted out, then pressed her lips together as though she wished she could take back the words.
My hand twitched to reach for her again, and I barely restrained the impulse. “I’ve never hated you, Isabel.”
Her head canted to one side, and she considered me like I was a particularly vexing puzzle. “But you don’t want to be married to me.”
“You don’t want to be married to me,” I reminded her. “Being unhappy about the arrangement doesn’t mean we have to hate each other.”
Her cheeks colored, and she bit her lip.
Oh. Maybe she did hate me. I couldn’t blame her. Not after everything I’d done to her.
I started to push my chair back. “If you’d rather eat alone—”
“No!” She grabbed my hand, anchoring me in place. “I mean… Yes, let’s have dinner together. You’re right. We don’t have to hate each other.” She said it like the words surprised her.
I ignored the way that made my gut twist. I hadn’t realized that my pretty bride deeply loathed me. I’d been too wrapped up in resenting the marriage to consider how she might feel about me personally.
All the more reason to spend a little time with her, to convince her that I wasn’t a complete monster.
“I meant what I said the other day in the aviary: I will always protect you. I’m sorry that I scared you last night. It will never happen again.” Because we’d never sleep in the same bed again. That’d been a stupid, lust-drunk mistake. “Nothing like last night will ever happen again. Any of it.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks took on a red flush. “Okay. Dinner, then.”
I couldn’t be her husband in every sense of the word, but I could at least try to ensure her contentment and safety. For better or worse, Isabel was my wife, and nothing would change that.