The Defiant Wife (The Three Mrs #2) - Jess Michaels Page 0,10

son to further his fortunes. I was a disappointment, but one he felt he could still benefit from, if only I were molded properly,” she said. “So if yours harmed through neglect, mine did the same through an excess of intrusion. They poked and prodded and told me I had to change, do better, be better…until I managed to marry the second son of an earl.”

He shook his head. “Great God. And what a mess that turned out to be.”

“Oh, yes. My father wrote me in a rage while I was in London. He blamed me for what Erasmus did. He…he cut me off. That is why I was loath to speak about them in the carriage.”

He flinched. Here he had hoped he was returning Phillipa to a loving family who could support her in this difficult time. But it seemed he was not the only one alone in the world.

And yet they were the two people who couldn’t reach for each other for comfort.

“I ought not have pried,” he said, pushing his half-eaten food aside.

“Why not? I certainly did,” she said.

“But you are owed answers. My brother lied.”

She wrinkled her brow. “Yes, he did. Often and with great talent. But you never do.”

There was something in her tone that made him focus all the harder on her. They locked stares, and for a moment it felt like everything in the world faded except for this woman. This remarkable woman.

“I’m sure I must,” he said, hating how rough his tone sounded to his ears. Rough with desire, would she mark it? Would she hate him for it?

“No,” she whispered. “Not that I have ever seen. You are…good, Rhys.” His stomach flipped at the use of his first name. “And what you are forced to clean up is not fair,” she finished.

He shook his head as he pondered that. The concept was one he’d done a great deal of thought about the last few weeks and months. “Life isn’t fair.”

“Don’t we both know it,” she said.

He wanted to touch her then. Not take her hand, which could be construed benignly enough, but stroke her cheek. Cup her chin. Draw her into his lap and put her arms around her. Just feel that she was real. Pretend that she was his. An illusion that would vanish when the sun hit it, but who cared? For the moments it felt true it would be amazing.

He blinked and broke the spell. “We have an early morning and it was a long day,” he said, setting his napkin on the tabletop. “Perhaps I should escort you up?”

She dropped her gaze from his. “I think that would be best.”

She stood and he followed her. He wanted to offer her an arm, but didn’t. They walked together, never touching, across the dining hall and through to the stairs that led to the chambers above. She pointed in the direction of her own and stopped in front of a door that was just three down from his own.

So close. Yet so far away.

She managed to look at him again, though she did not meet his eyes. “Thank you for the company,” she whispered, her voice barely carrying even in the narrow hall. “And for the kindness.”

He inclined his head. “You will always have it. Good evening.”

“Good night,” she said, and then turned away, disappearing into the room.

He stood staring at the door for a long moment before he managed to get his feet moving toward his chamber. As he staggered inside, he let out the curse that had been clogging his throat for the entire night.

“Bloody fucking hell.”

The scent of Phillipa was still in his nostrils, he could almost feel the pressure of her fingers on his hand. He wanted, more than anything, to go back to her door, haul her into his arms and learn her taste. He wanted to drown himself in her body until he didn’t even remember all the good reasons that kept them apart.

But he couldn’t, so what he was left with was a rising erection and a longing that would never be quenched except in fantasy.

Which he would indulge in now.

He crossed to the bed and flipped the placard of his trousers down with a flick of his wrist. His cock, half-hard from thoughts of her, bobbed free and he caught it, stroking the length as he leaned against the edge of the high mattress. How he’d love to have her here, watch her fingers clench the coverlet as he undressed her.