Captivated By Her Convenient Husband. Bronwyn Scott

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СКАЧАТЬ another reason for withholding her heart. She didn’t need to engage it in order to have what she needed from him—the name of a living husband.

      ‘Abandonment? That’s ludicrous.’ Fortis laughed at the notion. ‘He never could have won that.’

      ‘Couldn’t he? There were six years of unanswered letters,’ Avaline argued quietly, not for Hayworth’s sake but for hers. It was proof Fortis cared so little for their marriage, for her. That disregard had nearly cost her everything.

      ‘Well, I am here now,’ Fortis answered gruffly, his jaw tight. She immediately felt terrible for making the accusation, yet she couldn’t help riding that little crest of anger she’d allowed herself. He’d endured years of war and a year of who knew what hardships. But so had she. In her own way, she’d gone to war, too, alone and unarmed against Hayworth, against a world that talked about her behind her back without knowing the whole truth; that she’d married a man she didn’t know when she was little more than a girl in order to save her estate and herself from marriage to Tobin Hayworth years ago. The marriage hadn’t been a love-match as the Treshams had put about, painting it as a whirlwind romance during Fortis’s leave to explain the haste. It had been a marriage of convenience, pure and simple. Only it wasn’t so simple any more. Fortis was back and the past must be dealt with. Resuming a marriage with a man who didn’t want her was the price for thwarting Hayworth.

      ‘Yes, you are here now. For how long?’ The question came out sharply. Other than putting her beyond Hayworth’s intentions, what else did his appearance mean for her? For them? Was he home to stay? Or simply to lend her the protection of his name once more before he was off on new adventures?

      Fortis’s brow knit in perplexed question or maybe shock that she’d asked such a thing. ‘I am home to stay, Avaline. I am resigning my commission, of course.’ He was staring at her as if he couldn’t believe she’d not already concluded such action was a natural progression of events. ‘I am home to share the running of the estate, although I dare say there is much you’ll have to teach me. The army isn’t keen on imparting estate management skills.’ He gave a soft chuckle at his humour. ‘I am home to be a husband to you, to have a marriage with you, a real marriage this time.’

      He was acknowledging the imperfections of what had lain between them in the past and his part in that. It was her turn to stare, all her girlish hopes surging to the fore, refusing to be held back. Oh, what she would have given to hear those words from him years ago! Now, she didn’t know what to make of them. If her question about his intention to stay had hindered him, his answer had positively stunned her. A real marriage? With this handsome man who both did and did not resemble the man she’d married in looks and deed?

      What did he think a real marriage involved? Sex? Children? A family? Running an estate together? All of it or just some of it? As she stood in the autumn garden, surrounded by the vibrant colours of the leaves, the sun out, the autumn air crisp, it was easy to be swept away by his declaration, easy to dream. Even now, a nugget of hope blossomed at his words. Was the kind of union she’d always dreamed of within her grasp; one of love and mutual respect, one where husband and wife shared daily life together? The possibilities of what that marriage could hold were endless and tantalising. And frightening. To achieve such a thing would require great risk on her part, a risk she would not contemplate blindly. Broken hearts were not blithe considerations. Did he know what he asked of her with his declaration? How like the Fortis she’d known to consider only his wants without understanding the cost to others. She’d already paid the price once.

      Avaline stepped back. They had drifted together as they talked and now she needed distance. She needed to remind herself she was not a green girl any longer. She’d given her innocent heart to this man once before, naively thinking that marriage inherently included love. She’d been proven wrong. She’d already seen what marriage had meant to Fortis Tresham. Nothing. It had meant absolutely nothing. It hadn’t been worth a backward glance before going out hunting with his friends, or worth a single letter home. To trust that man again would be an enormous leap of faith, one she would not take carelessly.

      He did not miss or misunderstand the movement. Hurt flashed in his blue eyes along with realisation. ‘Avaline, are you sorry I am home?’

      * * *

      She did not answer immediately. He wished she had. He found himself wishing for many things in those critical seconds. He wished she’d flung herself into his arms and kissed away his doubts, that she’d murmured a rush of reassuring words. No, no, no, how could you think such a thing? I’d never want you dead. She’d done neither of those things. Instead, she’d moved away from him, separating herself from him, and that one step back communicated volumes long before she spoke the words, ‘I don’t know.’

      It occurred to him the answer might have been different, better if he’d answered those beautiful letters he’d found in his campaign trunk. What a cad he must have been. But her answer might also have been worse, if Tobin Hayworth hadn’t posed a threat to her. She might have said, ‘Yes.’ Yes, that she was sorry he was home, that he was a disruption to the life she’d carved out. He’d been gone for seven years and his wife wasn’t sure if she was glad he was home, safe and mostly sound.

      ‘You’re honest, I appreciate that.’ But, damn, the honesty hurt, like tearing off a scab and reopening a wound, an all-too-apt metaphor, Fortis thought. Now that the family was gone and the first sweetness of homecoming past, it was time to get down to truths. The first truth was this: he had hurt her. He had hurt this lovely creature with his neglect and his absence. That he had done so was unconscionable. There was no question there. The real question was why had he done it? And why didn’t he know?

      The strength of those realisations sent him stumbling backwards to the stone bench set on the pathway and he sat down hard from the shock of it, the consequence of it. Avaline’s dark eyes were shuttered and wary when they should have been full of warmth and hope. That’s what he wanted to see when she looked at him. The intensity of that desire surged in him, strong and powerful, a testament to how much he wanted it. He wanted, he needed, his wife’s approbation.

      ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’ Avaline looked suitably horrified. That was some consolation, he supposed, but he didn’t want it at the expense of a lie. He wouldn’t let her undervalue her own feelings to save his.

      ‘Of course you should have. What you should not do is pretend that everything between us is suddenly perfect after a seven-year absence, any more than I should simply absolve myself by saying we never had a chance.’ It would be so much easier if they could, though, if they could just start afresh as Fortis and Avaline. ‘But this, my dear, Avaline, is an apology, if you’ll accept it. I’m sorry I hurt you.’ He was sorry, too, for why ever he’d done it. He hoped in time he might understand his reasons. ‘We’ll take this homecoming slowly. We will figure out what we can be together if you are willing to let me try again, although I’m bound to make mistakes.’ He gave her a hopeful smile. He would try to make her happy. He would try to be a better man than the one he’d been before, a different man, one whom she’d be proud to have at her side.

      * * *

      Who the hell did Fortis Tresham think he was, crashing a party to which he was not invited and then assaulting the host? His actions were nothing short of barbaric. Tobin Hayworth nursed his jaw with a juicy slab of raw steak while he gingerly sipped an afternoon brandy. Eating luncheon had been out of the question. His jaw hurt twice as badly today as it had last night—something he’d not thought possible. He’d barely slept from the pain and he certainly hadn’t attempted to chew anything. He still wasn’t convinced his jaw wasn’t broken, although the doctor, whom he’d roused in the middle of the night, assured him otherwise.

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