“Are we doing this or not?”
He extended his hand and I shook it, keeping my grip firm and my eyes steady. Inside, I was locked in a battle against myself. Rosalia wanted this and I could give it to her, I could prove that I wasn’t a jealous person and I could control myself. But why I felt so much need to prove that, I had no idea.
Perhaps Rosalia was making me want to be more.
“We can discuss terms and conditions further,” said Merrick. “But for tonight, I’d like to go home before I freeze my ass off. Goodnight, Mr. Calo.”
“One more thing,” I said.
He paused.
“Don’t tell Rosalia this isn’t an exchange for an alliance. In fact, don’t tell anyone at all,” I said. “She needs a reason to not feel guilty or ashamed about her desires.”
He dipped his head.
“Oh, and Merrick.”
“Yes, what is it?”
I narrowed my gaze, studying him. “Is there a slim chance that your Clara looks just a little like my Rosalia?”
He released a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, we’re not delving into my personal life again tonight, Calo. Goodnight.”
I’d gotten my answer, just as I always did. One way or the other. He strode back down the pier, leaving me alone on the riverbank. Down below, the water churned like the mess inside my chest.
I could do this, I could deny myself and fulfill her dirtiest fantasies. This was my shot at redemption, my chance to know that I wasn’t who they’d said I was. A chance at a different kind of cleansing ritual and a hope that this time it would work.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ROSALIA
Peregrine was gone until later the next day and he fell into bed around midnight. For the first time, when he slid beneath the covers, he didn’t reach for me the way he usually did.
Instead, he pulled me against his chest and his warm, naked body pressed to my back. I lay in a stupor and felt his breathing relax until I knew he was asleep. I’d realized early on that he was a chronic insomniac and he struggled to sleep more than three to four hours every night. It felt strange to be awake while he slept.
When I woke, he was already gone despite how early it was. My stomach was hollow as I rose and showered, leaning against the wall under the hot spray. I hated how much I craved his presence.
He was like the sun, and I could deny it again and again, but my face turned to him to soak in his warmth.
Was this what lust felt like? It had to be because it wasn’t love. Love was supposed to be pure, but this was dirty and feral and made my blood thrum like a drumbeat.
We didn’t see much of each other for the next several days. They passed quickly, like the pages of a book flipping. Filled with glimpses of him, snapshots of his body against mine, of him leaving the house in the morning in his suit and tie, of his car pulling up outside the house for dinner at the end of the day. I didn’t hate it, but after our tumultuous first weeks of marriage, it felt empty.
I woke early a week later, finally resigned to having him already gone for the day. I wrapped myself in a towel and went to the window, cracking it to check the temperature. It was crisp and the air smelled fresh and clean with a hint of fall leaves. I let it nip my face and the ache in my body soothed. Maybe I would walk to the academy and get some extra practice in.
I dressed in jeans and a thick, woolen sweater and laced up my boots. Then I went down the hall to the kitchen and stopped short in the doorway. My husband stood by the sink, a mug of coffee in one hand and the newspaper in the other. He wore a pair of Chinos, a dark green sweater, and his brown waves were brushed back over his head. I’d never seen him dressed so casually and it threw me off guard.
“I thought you went to work,” I said.
He looked up. “I worked late last night so I could have a half day today. And I don’t have any meetings till next week.”
For a moment, I just stared up at him and he looked back at me beneath those smoldering, lowered brows. Inside, I was burning up and I didn’t know why. I wanted to go to him and turn my face up so he could kiss my mouth. But I never made the first move so I stayed resolutely still. He laid aside his paper and emptied his coffee.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me?”
My body warmed instantly.
“A walk?” I said, trying to sound casual. “Where?”