Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

" W here have you been?" Matthew thundered.

He looked like a wild animal to Cressida, and it shocked her. His hair was in disarray, and as she stood there before him, frozen in place, he raked his hands through it furiously and she saw how it had gotten that way.

"I've been—I was at my father's house," she said. "I told you I was going."

"Do you know what time it is?" He stabbed a finger in the direction of the clock that stood in the foyer. "Do you think you can just stay out all night without even telling me of your plans? Do you truly believe that what you've done today is acceptable in any way?"

He paced back and forth, hands in his hair again. Cressida glanced at the maid who stood beside the door that led to the kitchen. Her eyes were wide as saucers.

"We've never seen him like this," she whispered. "He's gotten angry before, but it's never been like this."

So even the staff was taken aback. Cressida knew that perhaps she ought to back away—it was frightening to see him this angry. And yet, at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to do it.

Instead, she stepped closer, feeling a sort of fearless abandon. "I told you where I was," she said. "You can't say that I didn't tell you of my plans."

"You told me you were going to visit with your father and your sister for the afternoon ." His voice was practically a growl, so low that she wouldn't have recognized who was speaking if she hadn't been able to see him for herself. "You told me a few hours . You should have been long home by the time I returned from work. And instead I come home and find the place empty, my wife nowhere to be found? How could you allow this to happen, Cressida?"

"What on Earth do you mean? Nothing's happened!"

"You told me, when I agreed to marry you, that you would be a suitable wife. You made me believe that a marriage to you would be a responsible choice. That you would be dutiful. You were not supposed to add worry to my life."

He turned away from her so that she couldn't see his face.

"I'm not trying to add any difficulty to your life," Cressida said, striving to keep her voice even and patient. "I would never want to do that, Matthew. You know I wouldn't. But you also know that I have to see my father."

"And when you do, I expect you to return home at a reasonable hour!"

"Well, I'm sorry! My sister was away in town and I wanted to wait for her. I haven't seen her since the wedding, you know. Perhaps you can't understand what that feels like because we've been able to see your sisters. Mine was closer to me than any other person from the day she was born, and now, suddenly, it's as if we hardly see one another. I was in the house where she lives. Of course I was going to stay until I had the chance to see her. Obviously I was going to do that."

Matthew shook his head. "No," he said. "When you tell me you're going somewhere, I expect you to tell me what time you're going to return, and I expect you to be punctual about that. And from now on, you're going to have to tell me exactly when you mean to return from every place you go."

"You can't expect me to know that exactly ," Cressida said, feeling frustrated. "What happens if I'm wrong by five minutes?"

"Don't be wrong. Leave early to make sure you arrive home on time. It isn't that difficult, and I'm perfectly entitled to make a request like this of my wife."

"It doesn't sound like you're making a request at all. It sounds like you're issuing a command."

"Well, I'm within my rights to do that too."

"You won't even look at me," she said. "If you're going to command me, you should be able to look at me. And if you can't do that, I can't think why I should want to obey."

He spun around to face her.

She was stunned by the anger on his face. His eyes were like dark coals, and she could only imagine they must be burning in his head. His fists were clenched and his jaw worked furiously. He was obviously struggling to keep himself under control.

"It doesn't matter if you want to obey," he said, his voice so tight that it seemed as if it might somehow snap in two. "It doesn't matter if you think you should have to comply with what I'm telling you, or if you think that it's a good idea. It doesn't matter if you think I'm being unreasonable. You must do this."

"You need to control everything," Cressida said. "You're not happy unless everything is under your thumb. I've noticed it every day from the moment I entered this house! It's the reason you won't allow me to move any furniture or so much as glance at your ledgers—you can't tolerate it when one thing is outside of your control. Well, I may be your wife, but I am not something you can control. And you may have married me for the sake of convenience, but I am not a servant you can command."

She could hardly believe she had spoken up to him like that. Of course, she was unused to being ordered around. Her father had rarely tried it. But no one had ever faced her with the kind of fury she saw on Matthew's face now. It changed something within her, made her want to draw back from him.

And still, she didn't pull away. She faced him determinedly, needing him to know that she could not be controlled or commanded. Matthew's need to have power over everything was something he would have to master, because he would not master her.

"You understand nothing," he snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Do you truly believe that I'm trying to control you?"

"It's exactly what you're doing, telling me where I can and cannot go and how I must behave! It frustrates you when anything defies you. It offends you."

"I'm not offended. " He raked his hands into his hair again, and this time clenched them into fists. "Cressida, for God's sake—I was worried for you."

Heat flooded Cressida's face, though she wasn't sure exactly why. "What?"

"I didn't know where you were or what might have happened to you. I was about to saddle up a horse and start for your father's house, and I was so worried that I might find you lying in the road along the way." He moved close to her and searched her up and down, and Cressida had the sense he was trying to make sure that no harm had come to her. "Don't you understand? I couldn't breathe , you had me so afraid. You know what it's like to be so afraid you can't even?—"

He turned away again, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

And Cressida's heart swelled with sudden comprehension—and affection.

This was something she could understand.

Not just the fear. She knew he had been thinking of her fear of thunderstorms, comparing his current terror to that, and she thought that was probably a fair thing to do. But she could also relate to the feeling of worrying so desperately about another person that you didn't know what you would do. She had felt it so many times for Victoria. She had felt that way when she had first seen Victoria out alone with the baron's son, and she knew she had expressed a great deal of anger on that occasion. Could she really fault Matthew for having done the same thing now if that was the way he was feeling?

But how could that be the way he was feeling?

She had believed in his need to control her because it had aligned so well with everything else she had observed about him. He did have a powerful compulsion to be in control of his surroundings. He loathed to have his things touched or moved without his express consent.

But this—the idea that he might simply care about her—it didn't match what she had believed she knew of him at all. How many times had he told her that theirs was not to be that sort of marriage? That that wasn't what he wanted?

Tentatively, she raised a hand and placed it on his shoulder.

She felt him freeze. His whole body grew tense and rigid beneath her hand.

He inhaled once, sharply, then exhaled shakily.

But he didn't pull away from her, and he didn't whip around again to demand to know what she was doing or order her away.

"Matthew," Cressida said quietly. "It's all right. I'm home safely."

He didn't move or speak.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry I worried you. You're right. I won't stay out this late again. I'll let you know where I am. I didn't mean to worry you. It didn't occur to me that you would worry."

"Of course I worried." His voice was still tight, as if he was having trouble getting the words out, but some of the anger was gone, and Cressida understood that what she was hearing now was anxiety. She'd felt it often enough—the way it could build up in your body so that even when the thing you feared had passed and you knew that everything was all right, it was impossible to relax for a good while.

She circled Matthew so that she was standing in front of him and gazed upward until he relaxed enough to look into her eyes. She rested her hands on his forearms.

"I'm safe," she assured him again. "I'm fine."

"Anything could have happened," he said again. "I don't even want to tell you the things that were in my head. I don't want to say them out loud." He reached out and touched her wrist lightly, almost unconsciously, as if needing to reassure himself that she truly was standing in front of him and that everything was all right.

"You don't need to," she assured him. "There's no need. I understand. You don't have to explain it to me any further, I promise you. I hear your worries, and this won't happen again."

For a moment, they just stood there, gazing into one another's eyes. Cressida could feel that Matthew was still reassuring himself of her safety, and she let him, sure that at any moment he would give her a curt nod and step back, and she would go to her room and think about this encounter for the remainder of the night.

But that wasn't what happened at all.

His eyes blazed suddenly, with an intensity that matched the anger she'd seen there moments ago. For a split second, it alarmed her—was he angry again? If he was, what would he do?

He inhaled sharply, and Cressida couldn't help it—she reached out to him, her hand brushing his arm. She wanted to comfort him, but she didn't know how.

Perhaps it would be best to simply leave him in peace. Perhaps that was what he needed from her now—not more comfort and reassurance, but time to process his feelings.

His fingertips were still brushing her wrist, though, sending sparks through her body, and she didn't want to pull away from. She wasn't truly sure that she even could. The idea of separating herself from him felt like taking wing and flying off the face of the Earth—some force that was larger and stronger than her kept her near him.

She waited for him to pull away instead.

But then he grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her.

The kiss was fierce and powerful, like nothing she'd ever experienced. It seemed to light her up from within. He held her firmly against him, and yet his arms around her were tender and gentle at the same time.

She melted into it, understanding fully for the first time why men and women did this. Her heart fluttered as if it was about to burst out of her chest, and her stomach seemed to tie itself in knots.

Far sooner than she would have liked, he pulled away from her. His eyes searched hers a moment longer.

Then he put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you're safe," he said quietly.

He turned and walked away, leaving Cressida's mind in turmoil. He was glad she had come home safely…so he had kissed her? And kissed her with a passion like nothing she had ever experienced before in her life?

Was it possible that, in spite of his own intentions, he was beginning to develop feelings for her after all?