“You know, I should leave you.” He started to turn toward the corridor. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
To her surprise, she found herself saying, “No, stay.”
She found the courage to take his arm. He went rigid as a gatepost under her hold, apart from that awful trembling. She had no idea what he’d been through, but she knew enough to understand that whatever had happened to him left him stretched to the absolute limit.
He didn’t look at her. “I’m not fit company tonight.”
She made a disgusted sound. “I’m your wife. You don’t have to be company.” She almost spat out the last word.
He leveled a flat gaze on her. “I wasn’t sure you remembered you were my wife.”
A spurt of temper briefly overcame her lingering guilt. “It’s been five years, Robert, and everyone was certain you were dead.”
He looked startled, as well he might. So far, she’d been a bit of a mouse in the face of his antipathy. “I remembered you for five years,” he said harshly.
And I remembered you, my love.
She didn’t say it. Now wasn’t the time for declarations of love. Although she was heartened to hear that he’d never stopped thinking of her. “There are things you need to know.”
Those marked black brows contracted in a scowl, and a muscle jerked in his cheek. “Let’s leave the confessions until tomorrow, Morwenna.”
This was the first time he’d spoken her name since his return. She wished those straight white teeth didn’t bite it off like something unpleasant.
It was her turn to frown as she assessed what he’d said. She’d referred to Kerenza, not to any misbehavior in his absence, although he must wonder about her engagement to Garson. “I wasn’t...” she began, but he silenced her with a wave of his hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said, without sounding particularly apologetic. “I have no right to carp. You’d had confirmation of my death.”
“You have the rights of a husband,” she said.
His lips twisted, but not in a smile. “A dead husband has no rights.”
“Robert...”
He stepped out of her hold and at once, she missed the contact, despite the tension rising between them. “You should have let me leave you alone tonight.”
She met his stare, again wishing she was sure of herself with him. One thing she was sure of—she’d never seen a man look so lonely. Despite the way his family had welcomed him, isolation clung to him like an icy shroud. “Do you want to go?”
He didn’t reply, but the quickly concealed hunger in his eyes was answer enough. Not the hunger of desire, but something else. She could only think it was a hunger for warmth and human contact.
Her lips tightened. His pride was familiar. W
hen she’d first come to know him, his pride had surprised her. After all, he was accounted the most agreeable of fellows and always brightened any gathering.
But a core of steel lurked beneath the geniality. That core of steel had helped him rise through the naval ranks with unprecedented speed. She also suspected that core of steel had kept him alive through whatever torments he’d endured.
Which didn’t stop her from wanting to slap him for the way he currently held onto his foolish masculine pride. But at least he became less a stranger with every minute.
Downstairs, this hollow-eyed wanderer had revealed little trace of the man she’d married. Now her confidence revived when she saw that despite time, distance and untold suffering, her Robert existed in there somewhere.
“Then for heaven’s sake, stop playing the martyr and come into the room,” she said with asperity. Still, she was wise enough to move fully inside and leave him space to make his decision.
After a second, he edged through the doorway. She sucked in a relieved breath. She felt like she coaxed a wild creature close enough to eat from her hand. A game of advance and retreat, requiring endless patience and calm.
Robert came to a halt in the center of the pretty, feminine room with its pink silk curtains and graceful furniture. He looked as out of place as a stevedore in Almack’s.
Warily he surveyed his surroundings, until his eyes met his reflection in a cheval mirror. He winced and looked away. “You must think me a complete vagabond.”
He spoke more easily now, she was grateful to hear. Each word no longer seemed to hurt. In the ballroom, she’d noticed that he’d relaxed a tad as the crowd left.