Page 56 of My Highland Bride

“I will try,” I say again more forcefully.

But my comment does not abate his concern. Brow furrowed, he says, “I do not wish for our first time together to be marred by your doubts.”

I do not wish it either, but it seems it is too late.

Erik runs a hand through his hair. What is he thinking?

“I’ve upset you,” I say.

“Nay, Reyne. You could never upset me by being honest. ’Tis all I ask from you. And I will give you the same in return.”

Neither of us has moved, but the distance between us has grown.

I nod. “I gladly give it.”

He looks pained. “Do you wish me as your husband?”

How could he ask such a question?

“Of course! We would not be married otherwise,” I say, incredulous. It is I who was forced on him, not the other way around.

“Do you believe that I do not love Cettina? In the way that matters, as a husband loves a wife?”

Oh dear. This time, his questions are not so easy to answer. But I fear my silence has given me away.

I wish I could believe such a thing. But he has admitted to loving her, in a way. He’s admitted to turning to her in a time of need. Clearly she means a great deal to him.

He frowns. “Can you give yourself to me without distraction? Without such thoughts swirling in your head?”

This one I can answer. I shake my head.

Erik closes his eyes. I lay my hands on his chest, forcing his eyes back open.

“You asked that I be honest.”

His smile is sadder than I would have hoped for on our wedding night, but he has an intent look in his eyes, much like he did before the Triumph match.

“Despite how we came together, I am glad to be your husband.” His hands cover mine.

“There is nothing I would rather do than pull that shift over your head and make love to you. Consummate our marriage as many times as you are able to given our long journey this day.” He squeezes my hands. “But I cannot make you believe it, Reyne. I can only seek to prove it to you. I will prove it by denying myself the thing I want most this night, and on every night of this journey. I will continue to deny it when we reach Breywood if you are still not ready to give yourself to me without questioning whether I’m worthy of such a gift.”

“You are more than worthy,” I begin, but he stops me.

“I see the shadow that crosses your face at every mention of the queen,” he says, moving our clasped hands over my heart. “I would dispel it if I could.”

Then do so, I wish to say. Tell me you love me, Erik, and we can share that very thing right now.

Because in that moment, I realize it’s true. I do love him.

But I can’t bring myself to say any of that, so I simply sit there, uncertain, blinking up at him.

“I serve the queen,” he says, and I can actually feel myself flinching. “You will speak with her. Dine with her. Cettina will be a part of our lives for many years. The only escape will be if I step down, which I can do at any time but am not willing to with Edingham’s future so uncertain. You understand that, do you not?”

“Aye,” I admit.

“Then we will come to a place where you no longer feel as you do. In the meantime.” He lets go of my hands and wraps his arms around me. “We will become accustomed to each other. I will answer any questions you may have and be truthful always. And when you are ready—” This last part he murmurs in my ear, and I can hear the pain in his voice. “—when you are ready, tell me so.”

My head, pressed up against his hard chest, begins to throb as the all too familiar feeling of an oncoming headache invades this doomed wedding night. I can tell him I’m ready this very moment. Confess that I’ve fallen in love with him, even as I’ve willed myself to keep my distance.