forehead. “We haven’t had a drop of champagne. And I’m not a dream. I’m here and everything’s going to be alright.”
She’d made him a believer. Any doubts he’d had about their destiny, about the possibility of Happy Ever Afters, was banished now she was back in his arms. He didn’t feel old or alone anymore. He felt like a man who could do anything and be anything.
“I need some coffee.” Phoenix slipped out of bed, with a flash of a smile for him. “
Now
can I get you anything?”
“Wine would be good.”
While she moved to the kitchenette to set the kettle on and open a bottle, he sat up against the heavy wooden headboard to watch her. She returned with a steaming mug and a glass of dark red wine for him. He breathed in the bouquet and took a sip. “Pinot noir. Local.”
“You can tell all that from one sip?”
He patted the bed beside him and Phoenix perched warily, like a deer poised to run. He suppressed a smile. She’d never been good with morning afters, but this one was a vast improvement over that first morning.
He glanced towards the window that overlooked the town and the river. The moon had started to set and dawn wouldn’t be far behind. He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer.
But he wasn’t yet ready to leave.
“Tell me what you’ve been doing since you arrived in Madrid.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know I was in Madrid?”
Shit. He thought quickly. “I tried to find you. I called everyone who knew you. I spoke to your boss, your landlady, your friends.” Which was all true, though none of them would tell him a thing.
Could
tell him a thing, it had seemed.
She glowered. “Khara should have kept her mouth shut.”
He breathed a mental sigh of relief. Khara had some discretion, at least. Just as well, considering her brother had helped him procure the wedding license and might be able to put face and name together.
Phoenix looked down at the hands laced in her lap. “I’m sorry. I haven’t thanked you yet for the money.”
“If I’d known you were going to use it to run away from me, I wouldn’t have left it.” He reached out a hand and laid it over hers. “Was our marriage so bad that you couldn’t wait to get away?”
She looked up quickly, her dark eyes wide and luminous. “Of course not. You were…” She swallowed whatever she’d been about to say. “I was ready to settle down with you and become a farmer’s wife, for heaven’s sake. It was as if I saw my life flash before my eyes: the SUV, the 2.4 children, the dog, and the white picket fence. I should thank you for leaving. You saved me from my own stupidity. I came so close to giving up everything for you, even my dreams.”
“My pleasure.” His dry tone couldn’t have been more apparent. He hoped his pain was less so. She didn’t love him as much as he loved her. She hadn’t loved him enough to want to share her dreams with him.
She’d run away without giving him a chance, because she’d seen life with him as dull and stifling. How much worse would it be now, when she discovered that the life he could have offered her before, a life of ease in which they could have done anything they wanted, gone anywhere they wanted, was no longer possible? He was tied to Westerwald now. He had duties here, responsibilities. All those dull, stifling things she avoided.
He had no doubt she’d run again. What could he possibly do or say to change her mind? Whatever it was, he had to figure it out, and quickly.
“Tell me about Spain.” He leaned back against the headboard and took a gulp of wine. The taste was raw and a bit too young. He made a mental note to schedule a meeting with the cellar master.
Her face lit up. “It was beautiful. The cathedrals, the art, the music.”
He’d wanted to take her there himself, show her places he’d visited and loved, and explore new places with her. Instead, she’d done it alone. His jaw tightened. It cost him a great deal of effort to keep his
She’d made him a believer. Any doubts he’d had about their destiny, about the possibility of Happy Ever Afters, was banished now she was back in his arms. He didn’t feel old or alone anymore. He felt like a man who could do anything and be anything.
“I need some coffee.” Phoenix slipped out of bed, with a flash of a smile for him. “
Now
can I get you anything?”
“Wine would be good.”
While she moved to the kitchenette to set the kettle on and open a bottle, he sat up against the heavy wooden headboard to watch her. She returned with a steaming mug and a glass of dark red wine for him. He breathed in the bouquet and took a sip. “Pinot noir. Local.”
“You can tell all that from one sip?”
He patted the bed beside him and Phoenix perched warily, like a deer poised to run. He suppressed a smile. She’d never been good with morning afters, but this one was a vast improvement over that first morning.
He glanced towards the window that overlooked the town and the river. The moon had started to set and dawn wouldn’t be far behind. He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer.
But he wasn’t yet ready to leave.
“Tell me what you’ve been doing since you arrived in Madrid.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know I was in Madrid?”
Shit. He thought quickly. “I tried to find you. I called everyone who knew you. I spoke to your boss, your landlady, your friends.” Which was all true, though none of them would tell him a thing.
Could
tell him a thing, it had seemed.
She glowered. “Khara should have kept her mouth shut.”
He breathed a mental sigh of relief. Khara had some discretion, at least. Just as well, considering her brother had helped him procure the wedding license and might be able to put face and name together.
Phoenix looked down at the hands laced in her lap. “I’m sorry. I haven’t thanked you yet for the money.”
“If I’d known you were going to use it to run away from me, I wouldn’t have left it.” He reached out a hand and laid it over hers. “Was our marriage so bad that you couldn’t wait to get away?”
She looked up quickly, her dark eyes wide and luminous. “Of course not. You were…” She swallowed whatever she’d been about to say. “I was ready to settle down with you and become a farmer’s wife, for heaven’s sake. It was as if I saw my life flash before my eyes: the SUV, the 2.4 children, the dog, and the white picket fence. I should thank you for leaving. You saved me from my own stupidity. I came so close to giving up everything for you, even my dreams.”
“My pleasure.” His dry tone couldn’t have been more apparent. He hoped his pain was less so. She didn’t love him as much as he loved her. She hadn’t loved him enough to want to share her dreams with him.
She’d run away without giving him a chance, because she’d seen life with him as dull and stifling. How much worse would it be now, when she discovered that the life he could have offered her before, a life of ease in which they could have done anything they wanted, gone anywhere they wanted, was no longer possible? He was tied to Westerwald now. He had duties here, responsibilities. All those dull, stifling things she avoided.
He had no doubt she’d run again. What could he possibly do or say to change her mind? Whatever it was, he had to figure it out, and quickly.
“Tell me about Spain.” He leaned back against the headboard and took a gulp of wine. The taste was raw and a bit too young. He made a mental note to schedule a meeting with the cellar master.
Her face lit up. “It was beautiful. The cathedrals, the art, the music.”
He’d wanted to take her there himself, show her places he’d visited and loved, and explore new places with her. Instead, she’d done it alone. His jaw tightened. It cost him a great deal of effort to keep his
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