Page 41 of The Rules of Matrimony (The Matchmaking Mamas #4)
“You what?” Ian couldn’t believe it. Had Amie left her head at home this morning?
Amie put her hand on the oversized Bible on display in the corner of the library. It was a rather rare edition, with gleaming brown English leather and gold-leaf embossing, and it looked like it had never been touched. Yet she had fled directly to it when they’d entered the room. “I wanted to start a conversation between you and your father.”
“By sharing something personal I told you?”
She inched closer to the Bible, almost using it as a shield. “I don’t normally betray secrets, and I feel terrible about it, but I honestly hoped it would help.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “How? How would making my father angrier during his illness help anything?”
She grimaced “He didn’t act terribly angry.”
“Shock will do that to a person.” He shoved his jacket back and set his hand on his hip. “I don’t have time to speak with him about this. Sir James wants me to gather with them at a club in Town to go over his speech for tomorrow. I can understand your intentions, but my father doesn’t deserve your compassion. He’s not like the maid who broke her leg or the sick neighbors. He’s a grown man who must reap the consequences of his actions.”
Amie was almost behind the Bible now, the book solidly between them. “I didn’t do it for him.”
Ian ground his teeth together. “Then, why?”
She ran her finger along the Bible’s lettering, avoiding his eye. “I did it for you, Ian. I don’t want to see you hurting anymore.”
He sighed. What could he say to that? “Come here.”
“I prefer to stay here.”
“Why?”
“So the Bible might remind you to forgive me.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I will keep it in mind.” He took her hand off the precious relic and carefully led her around it. “But please, don’t try to fix things between my father and me. Nothing will ever change, trust me.”
A wave of sadness passed over her eyes like a filmy cloud. “Never?”
“Never.”
A sheepish smile tugged at her lips. “Then, I was a fool to believe I could ever be your wife in more than name only.”
He dropped her hand like it was a hot coal. “What?”
She shrugged, her cheeks coloring. “I thought if you reconciled with your father, you could finally heal. Maybe whatever it is that keeps you from me would disappear.”
Why did he feel as if someone had gut-punched him? His next breath tore from him. “I can’t, Amie.”
She blinked rapidly but not before he noticed the sheen of tears. “But why?”
He looked at the wall beyond her. “Because.”
“Because why? Why can’t you let me in? Just yesterday, you said that you couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone but me. I believed you.”
Couldn’t she leave things how they stood? They’d sorted matters with her mother and had developed a gratifying friendship—one in which he felt safe making a flirtatious comment or two and relishing every blush—but that was all this could be. He met her gaze head on though it killed him to do so. “I was putting on an act.”
She shook her head. “You’re lying.”
How did she know him so well? “So what if I am? Speaking the truth won’t make this any easier.”
“Tell me anyway.”
He threw his hands up in the air. “If you really want to know, it’s because loving you means I’m one step closer to turning into a monster like my father.”
His sharp words could have stabbed her for the pain that passed across her face. She looked away, her eyes not really settling on one thing. “I don’t understand. Being with me would make you a monster?”
“No, Amie.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re twisting my words. I can’t and won’t love you because I do not want to perpetuate the life of my grandfather, father, uncle, and who knows what other relatives who were unfaithful to their wives. I won’t break your heart as my father broke my mother’s.” He heaved a sigh, the words tearing from him. “I do care for you. I care enough that I can’t let you get close to me again.”
She swatted at a tear escaping. “Can’t or won’t?”
His voice lowered to a near whisper. “I don’t trust myself.”
He meant it. Those humbling, self-deprecating words. She should have stepped away. She should have let bygones be bygones. But she shifted closer, reaching for his hand. “But I trust you.”
Her fingers grazed his, and he froze. She wouldn’t let the matter go this time. How could she ask this of him? She’d known from the start where he stood. He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t hurt her. But despite his well-meaning intentions, he was already wounding her more than he ever dreamed.
Her touch was gentle and hesitant. She was being so brave, and he wanted to reward her efforts with his own and say all the reassuring things she deserved to hear. But what if he tried and failed? He wasn’t like his friends. He’d always known that. He was gruff and surly and meant for arguing politics, not growing a family. One mistake and the innocence he loved about Amie would disappear forever.
Along with her beautiful smile.
He snatched his hand away from her, hating himself for causing the vivid pain to fill her eyes. This was who he was. A little hurt now would prevent far more later. It had to be done. Her trust wasn’t enough to save him from himself. “I married you for one reason, Amie. For my inheritance. Nothing more.”
He stepped away from her, slowly yet purposefully.
Her eyes begged him to come back to her, to want her, to love her. How he longed to do just that. But what she didn’t know was that he did love her. And this was how he was proving it to them both.