Page 179 of Rogue of My Heart

Just in case she acted on the impulse, he said, “Shut the door, please.”

He thought he heard her sigh, but she did as he asked. He gestured to the settee. “Have a seat.”

She sat, her back ramrod straight, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Damn. He walked over to the mantel and leaned against the marble, his glass dangling from his fingertips. He watched her for a time, and she met his gaze unflinchingly. Without any clue as to what might have gotten under her skin, he decided it would be best to address the issue directly.

“Have I done something to offend you?” he asked bluntly.

If possible, she stiffened even further. “Why would you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he scoffed, taking a deep swallow of his brandy.

“Maybe it’s because ever since that single glorious night you’ve acted as though I don’t exist.”

“Have I?”

He wasn’t about to believe that innocent query. “You know you have.”

She remained irritably mute.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Alby.”

* * *

Those hazel eyes lit on him with such dislike that he felt as if she’d punched him in the stomach. “You have no right to call me that.”

“Don’t I?” He gave a bark of laughter, devoid of humor. “You’re my wife, even if you might not like the fact.”

She set her jaw. “Indeed. And as your wife, I would think that her husband shouldn’t keep secrets from her.”

Now he was completely lost. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play me for a fool, Michael!” She stood up and turned her back on him, as if trying to keep her composure. “I know about your mistress!”

The deafening silence that followed her accusation caused his grip to tighten on his glass.

When she spun around to face him, her eyes were sparking with anger and unshed tears, the color growing higher on her cheeks. “I overheard you talking to that messenger in your study the morning after—” She broke off, as if unable to even remind herself of the night that had changed everything for him.

Apparently, it had done nothing for her.

“So instead of believing that you made a mistake,” he said quietly,

“you choose to stand there and paint me as the villain, condemning me for a snippet of a conversation that you know nothing about.”

She crossed her arms. “I know what I heard.” She tossed her head.

“Besides, it’s not as if you’ve been living a life of celibacy while we’ve been apart.”

Michael felt a blistering rage boiling up inside of him. For the past five years, he had been faithful, waiting for the only woman he’d ever loved to return to him. But now, to have her throw all those years of torment in his face?—

He threw his glass into the fire, ignoring it when it shattered, sending sparks from the liquor blazing in the hearth. “Damn you, woman!” he roared. He pointed an accusing finger at her. “I have stayed in this house for the past five years, yearning for the one thing I dared to let go. I know you won’t believe me when I tell you that I have not taken a lover in your absence, nor will you believe that I still love you.” He snorted. “But obviously love is nothing more than a poison that rots the mind, causing mistrust and betrayal to take root. I had hoped that when you arrived, things might be different, but now I can see that we are at an impasse. And while it may be difficult to obtain a divorce, the cost might very well drain my coffers, I now know that is the only way to ever make you happy.”

* * *

With nothing else to be said, Michael left the library, slamming the door on his way out.

Albina jumped at Michael’s departure. In all her life, she had never seen him so angry. She actually feared that he might strike her; his eyes were blazing with such a swirling mixture of pain and fury.