Once Touched, Never Forgotten - By Natasha Tate Page 0,64

my fists, and Father had a good lawyer on retainer who was able to protect my inheritance from the Whitfields until I was old enough to protect it myself. But it was not a happy time in my life. I spent much of it scared and alone.”

“Oh, Stephen.” She understood now. She understood his stubborn refusal to love and be loved. He’d never known the benefits of love; he’d only known the pain. “I’m so sorry.” Her heart twisted within her chest and she lifted a hand to his upper arm. As foolish as she was, it was impossible not to touch him.

He shook her off. “Mum had been the world to Father, his reason for living, and he didn’t know how to function with her gone. I saw how his need for her made him miserable, how losing her incapacitated him and made him weak. He couldn’t even look at me after she was gone because I reminded him of what he’d lost.” He swallowed and lifted his gaze to the glass behind her head. “I swore that I’d never let a woman do that to me or any children I happened to have. I swore I’d never be so blind that I chose a wife with my heart instead of my head.”

Her heart sank. “So you chose me.”

“Yes, I chose you. And I told myself it was with my head. I told you the same thing, praying you’d believe it. That you wouldn’t run away. You were smart, you were a good mother to our child, and you worked hard. I liked you and you weren’t needy. I respected you and I enjoyed your company. You seemed like the perfect choice.”

She remained silent, bracing herself for the truth.

“But I lied,” he said, his flinty blue gaze returning to roam over her face. Her body. The distance between them became charged, like the expectant silence suspended between the strike of lightning and the clap of thunder. He closed the distance between them, his breath hot against her ear. “I lied to you and to myself. Because my head had nothing to do with my choice.”

An awful shaking took up residence in her legs.

“Tonight proved it to me. When I thought I might lose you. When I saw myself repeating the mistakes of my father and not caring.” His voice trembled and he braced his arms against the glass behind her, his head dipping low against her cheek. “I married you because I’d be lost without you. I married you because I need you, more than I think I’ve ever needed anyone. I’ve been blind with needing you, so much that I couldn’t sleep at night.”

A crazy blend of doubt and joy filled her heart, winnowing its way through her body and making her hands itch to touch him, to lift his face so she could read the truth in his eyes.

“But I knew you’d never marry me for me. You deserved better than a wretch like me, and I knew it. That’s why I didn’t hold on to you with both hands when I had the chance. I wanted to spare you the hell of being married to a Whitfield. Of being married to me. But then Emma gave me the perfect excuse to claim you, to take what should never have been mine,” he whispered fiercely. “And I’m sorry.”

“Stephen—”

“It’s not you who isn’t good enough,” he interrupted. “It’s me.”

“You’re wrong,” she said into the trembling silence between them.

He lifted his burning gaze to hers, chips of burning blue ice within a haggard face. A face she loved. “Don’t,” he ground out. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Oh, Stephen, you know I’m a terrible liar.” Forcing lightness to her tone, she reached to cup his lean cheek. “It’s one of my flaws, I’m afraid.”

He closed his eyes, turning his mouth to the center of her palm. He rested his lips against it for a moment, his throat bobbing with his swallow before he straightened. “I know I don’t deserve to ask this, but I’m going to ask anyway …”

“Yes,” she answered, her heart in her throat.

“Yes?” His brow creased with bewildered doubt. “But you don’t even know the question.”

She reached to cup his dear face between her hands. “It doesn’t matter what you ask, Stephen, because I love you. My answer will always be yes.”

“You love me?” he asked, his voice a rough, pleading rasp.

“Yes.”

“But why?” He shut his eyes, and the words worked within his throat. “Why would you love

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