Chapter Thirty-Eight

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

The Next Morning

L ucian awoke in his wife’s arms. A feeling of contentment unlike any he’d ever known swept through him. He nuzzled his face into her hair and breathed in her intoxicating scent. What was this wonderful feeling? Happiness? Contentment? He’d never known it before. He pulled her close and kissed her atop the head.

These last two weeks with Gemma had been the best of his life. Better than anything he’d imagined. And she was beginning to trust him. He could feel it. It wasn’t only in the way she responded to him in bed. It was in the way she asked him questions and listened to his answers. It was in the way she laughed when he made a jest, and the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him over breakfast in the morning. She was still wary—and probably rightfully so—but he’d made progress in gaining her trust. He’d asked her to give their marriage a chance. And she was. He felt it. Each day, she was opening herself up to him a little more. Trentham had been right. Being charming wasn’t difficult, after all. And there was no trick to it. Just respect and interest.

“Good morning,” came Gemma’s sleepy voice muffled by the covers.

“You’re awake?” He smiled and pulled the covers away from her lovely face.

She drew her fingertip across his chest and glanced up at him from beneath her lashes.

He swooped down to kiss her, but she ducked and laughed. “Wait, Lucian. I need to ask you something.”

He looked down at her and smiled. “I like it when you say my name.”

She bit her lip and glanced away.

There was something wrong. He could feel it. Last night, they hadn’t spoken and had merely fallen into bed together, ravenous for each other as usual. But now there was tension in her drawn-up shoulders. There was hesitancy in her gaze. “What is it?”

“Will you tell me something?” She still did not look at him directly.

“What?” His heart hammered, panic rising in his chest. His gut told him he wouldn’t like what she was about to say.

She pushed herself up against the pillows and crossed her arms over her middle. She stared down at the covers silently.

Lucian pushed himself back against the pillows next to her, but he searched her profile. “What is it, Gemma? Say it?” Fear made his voice sound angry.

She swallowed. He watched as her throat worked. “I’ve heard a few things,” she began tentatively. She uncrossed her arms and plucked at the quilt with her thumb and forefinger but still didn’t look at him. “Things that concern me. Servants’ gossip, mostly. But I want to ask you directly.” She sucked in a breath. “What sort of parents were your mother and father?”

Lucian’s face hardened into a mask of stone. “Servants shouldn’t gossip.” His parents were not a subject he was willing to talk about. And to hear that his servants had shared anything about his family with her incensed him. Gemma didn’t need to know details of how he’d been raised or how his parents had treated him. All of that was a long time ago. It had nothing to do with their future.

“It’s not just the servants,” she clarified, her voice rising with what sounded like alarm. “When you and I went to Griffin’s…you said my family was warm and loving. You said yours was different.”

“It was different.” The words shot out of his mouth as if they came from a pistol. His jaw was clenched. What the hell did any of this have to do with them ?

“They didn’t show you affection, did they?” she prodded.

The overwhelming emotion that had invaded Lucian’s chest was spreading now. And it was unmistakable. Anger. Anger that this was coming up. Anger that his servants had gossiped. Anger clawed at his insides. He never discussed his parents with anyone. Ever. No one ever asked. “What does it matter what my parents were like? They are both dead ,” he nearly spat.

Gemma winced, drawing away from him slightly. “It matters quite a lot.” Her voice was raw with sadness.

“I don’t see how.” Along with the anger, discomfort was also spreading quickly through his veins. He was used to being in control of everything. But he couldn’t control this. He couldn’t control her questions or her reactions to his answers. He couldn’t control what she thought of him. He scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Gemma turned toward him and placed a cold hand on his shoulder. Her voice held a note of steely resolve. “You want a child with me. But I will not allow a child of mine to be treated as if they are nothing more than a possession.”

Lucian’s jaw clenched so hard it popped. What was she trying to say? Was she pushing him away? She still wanted the divorce, didn’t she? She was using this as an excuse. It was clear as day. “ We have a contract ,” he growled.

She quickly drew back her hand as if it had been burned. “I know we have a contract. I’m asking for an amendment to it.” Fire flashed in her dark eyes and her voice was angry.

His eyes narrowed. “What sort of amendment?” What was she getting at? What did she want?

“If we have a child…I don’t want him to be subjected to the sort of treatment that…”

Lucian slashed his arms through the air. “You make it sound as if I was beaten.”

Gemma tossed back the covers and stood, glaring at him from the side of the bed, her hands on her hips. “You might as well have been. If your parents withheld affection. If they?—”

Lucian ripped the covers back and stood too. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides as he glared at her from the opposite side of the bed. “My parents have nothing to do with us.”

“Yes, they do! I don’t want our child to be kept away from me when he is young. I want to hold him and hug him and kiss him and tell him I love him every day.”

Lucian paced away from the bed. Dark spots of anger covered his eyes. Who the hell had told her about his parents? And why had he trusted that she was allowing him to get closer to her? He’d been fooled into thinking she was letting him in. He was almost happy, a foreign feeling. One he’d thought he was enjoying. But now he realized that he wasn’t the one who’d been acting. She was . Her actions these last two weeks had all been an act. Performed by an actress who had no intention of staying in their marriage. She still intended to leave him, which was why she’d gone messing about in the servants’ hall, digging up gossip to use to renegotiate their contract.

Damn it. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes. He’d been a fool. This was no more than he deserved. For believing even for a moment that Gemma’s feelings for him were real. And the worst part was that…all along, his despicable father had actually been right . Lucian should have kept Gemma at arm’s length. One doesn’t fall in love with one’s wife . Love wasn’t an emotion for the Grovemont heir. His father had warned him. But Lucian had been too blinded to listen.

“There will be no renegotiation!” His words came out as nearly a yell. The panic and pain clawing at his chest made him fearful, loud.

Gemma’s next words came from somewhere behind him, and they were filled with anger too. “What are you saying? You want our children to be raised like you were? Without love?”

“I’m saying there will be no renegotiation,” he shot through his clenched jaw, turning to glare at her again.

Gemma grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on. She waved a hand in the air toward the bed. “This has all been an act. You’ve only been pretending to be nice to me to make me stay, haven’t you? You didn’t want the divorce because of your precious reputation. You don’t care about me or the child we might have.”

Lucian grabbed his breeches and quickly pulled them on. Oh, how clever of her. Accusing him of doing the exact thing she was doing. “If anyone is an actress, it’s you. I’m leaving.”

“You are heartless!” she cried.

“You’re right,” he ground out. “I am without a heart. Don’t forget it.” And wasn’t it better that way? Less painful? He turned on his heel and stalked from the room.