Page 79

Simon, with a groan that sounded as if it were ripped from his very soul, yanked himself out of her with barely a second to spare before he spilled himself—as he always did—on the sheets at the edge of the bed.

In a moment he would turn to her and pull her into his arms. It was a ritual she'd come to cherish. He would hold her tightly against him, her back to his front, and nuzzle his face in her hair. And then, after their breathing had settled down to an even sigh, they would sleep.

Except tonight was different. Tonight Daphne felt oddly restless. Her body was blissfully weary and sated, but something felt wrong. Something niggled at the back of her mind, teasing her subconscious.

Simon rolled over and scooted his body next to hers, pushing her toward the clean side of the bed. He always did that, using his body as a barrier so that she would never roll into the mess he made. It was a thoughtful gesture, actually, and—

Daphne's eyes flew open. She almost gasped.

A womb won't quicken without strong, healthy seed.

Daphne hadn't given a thought to Mrs. Colson's words when the housekeeper had uttered the saying that afternoon. She'd been too consumed with the tale of Simon's painful childhood, too concerned with how she could bring enough love into his life to banish the bad memories forever.

Daphne sat up abruptly, the blankets falling to her waist. With shaking fingers she lit the candle that sat on her bedside table.

Simon opened a sleepy eye. “What's wrong?”

She said nothing, just stared at the wet spot on the other side of the bed.

His seed.

“Daff?”

He'd told her he couldn't have children. He'd lied to her.

“Daphne, what's wrong?” He sat up. His face showed his concern.

Was that, too, a lie?

She pointed. “What is that?” she asked, her voice so low it was barely audible.

“What is what?” His eyes followed the line of her finger and saw only bed. “What are you talking about?”

“Why can't you have children, Simon?”

His eyes grew shuttered. He said nothing.

“Why, Simon?” She practically shouted the words.

“The details aren't important, Daphne.”

His tone was soft, placating, with just a hint of condescension. Daphne felt something inside of her snap.

“Get out,” she ordered.

His mouth fell open. “This is my bedroom.”

“Then I'll get out.” She stormed out of the bed, whipping one of the bedsheets around her.

Simon was on her heels in a heartbeat. “Don't you dare leave this room,” he hissed.

“You lied to me.”

“I never—”

“You lied to me,” she screamed. “You lied to me, and I will never forgive you for that!”

“Daphne—”

“You took advantage of my stupidity.” She let out a disbelieving breath, the kind that came from the back of one's throat, right before it closed up in shock. “You must have been so delighted when you realized how little I knew about marital relations.”

“It's called making love, Daphne,” he said.

“Not between us, it's not.”

Simon nearly flinched at the rancor in her voice. He stood, utterly naked, in the middle of the room, desperately trying to come up with some way to salvage the situation. He still wasn't even certain what she knew, or what she thought she knew. “Daphne,” he said, very slowly so that he would not let his emotions trip up his words, “perhaps you should tell me exactly what this is about.”

“Oh, we're going to play that game, are we?” She snorted derisively. “Very well, let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there was—”

The scathing anger in her voice was like a dagger in his gut. “Daphne,” he said, closing his eyes and shaking his head, “don't do it like this.”

“Once upon a time,” she said, louder this time, “there was a young lady. We'll call her Daphne.”

Simon strode to his dressing room and yanked on a robe. There were some things a man didn't want to deal with naked.

“Daphne was very, very stupid.”

“Daphne!”

“Oh, very well.” She flipped her hand through the air dismissively. “Ignorant, then. She was very, very ignorant.”

Simon crossed his arms.

“Daphne knew nothing about what happened between a man and a woman. She didn't know what they did, except that they did it in a bed, and that at some point, the result would be a baby.”

“This is enough, Daphne.”

The only sign that she heard him was the dark, flashing fury in her eyes. “But you see, she didn't really know how that baby was made, and so when her husband told her he couldn't have children—”

“I told you that before we married. I gave you every option to back out. Don't you forget that,” he said hotly. “Don't you dare forget it.”

“You made me feel sorry for you!”

“Oh now, that's what a man wants to hear,” he sneered.

“For the love of God, Simon,” she snapped, “you know I didn't marry you because I felt sorry for you.”

“Then why?”

“Because I loved you,” she replied, but the acid in her voice made the declaration rather brittle. “And because I didn't want to see you die, which you seemed stupidly bent upon doing.”

He had no ready comment, so he just snorted and glared at her.

“But don't try to make this about me,” she continued hotly. “I'm not the one who lied. You said you can't have children, but the truth is you just won't have them.”