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A shiver went through her. He began squeezing out her hair, rinsing away the shampoo, and she couldn’t stop staring up at him.
A real marriage. Having a family with him. Living with him as his wife...
Her heart ached with a longing she’d tried to ignore for a long time now. The longing to be with someone, to have someone of her own, someone who wouldn’t leave her.
It can’t be him. It can’t.
A thread of panic wound through her, making her feel as if she’d made a mistake somewhere along the line, a mistake that it was now too late to fix.
She sat up abruptly, water streaming from her hair, her back to him. She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want him to see her panic. The water was warm but she felt cold. ‘I see,’ she said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. ‘What made you change your mind?’
If he’d picked up on her tension he gave no sign, his hands in her hair again, squeezing the water from it gently. ‘You did,’ he said. ‘The day of our wedding. Or maybe it was even the night before, when you gave me that pin.’
Her heart thumped loudly in her ears and she was suddenly full of fear though, again, she wasn’t sure why. She leaned forward in the water, wrapping her arms around her knees. ‘How did I do that?’
‘I told you that the night I found you in the rubble, you gave me hope.’ His voice was a deep rumble at her back. ‘And when you gave me that pin, I was reminded of it. Then in the church, when you appeared in your wedding gown, it was as if you were giving me yourself. You’ve always been hope to me, Elenitsa, and on our wedding day, you gave me hope again.’ His hands stroked down her spine and she shivered helplessly. ‘Hope for a future I didn’t know I wanted. A future I thought I couldn’t have.’
His words made her heart clench. They should make her feel good, she knew, because who didn’t want to be someone’s hope? But there was only a kind of lurching disappointment. This wasn’t about her. This wasn’t about who she was. It was about what she represented to him. Of course, she liked being his hope, but...
You want to be more than that to him.
Her feelings tangled and knotted inside her, cold fear and disappointment, that terrible aching longing and a sharp kind of sadness. No, she hadn’t wanted to be more to him, she hadn’t wanted him to matter to her at all, and yet... Part of her knew the truth. That he did matter to her. That the past three days with him had been the happiest of her life, happier than she’d ever been as Aristeidis’s daughter.
You’re falling for him.
No, no. No, she couldn’t do that. The was the very last thing in the world that she should do.
Too late.
Elena gripped the side of the bath tightly, the cold fear inside her winding deeper. ‘Oh,’ she said, sharper than she’d intended. ‘So it’s not really about me, then?’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she shouldn’t have said them. They revealed far too much. But like most things to do with Atticus, it was too late.
He’d gone still behind her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, you don’t really want to live with me.’
‘Of course I want to live with you.’ There was a puzzled note in his voice. ‘Wasn’t that what I just said?’
She turned her head, glancing at him from over her shoulder. ‘You said you wanted to live with me because of what I represent. That’s not about me, Atticus. That’s about you.’
His black brows drew down, the flames from the tea lights leaping in his night-dark eyes. ‘It’s you I want to live with, Elena. Is that not clear?’
‘No, it’s not clear. You said I represented hope for you. Hope is what you want to live with, it’s not me.’ Her throat had tightened. She didn’t want to argue with him, but it felt as if the conversation had got away from her and she didn’t know how to get it back.
His gaze became edged, focusing on her in that abrupt way he had that made her feel as if he could read every thought in her head.
He’ll know how you feel about him. He’ll be able to see it.
The thread of panic constricted and abruptly she didn’t want to be here any longer, in the warm water with him and his seductive hands and his sharp gaze. She felt far too vulnerable, far too open, and she hated it. She’d always hated it.
He’ll know about how you left them, too. He’ll know what a coward you are.
The water surged as Elena pushed herself up and out of the bath, splashing onto the stone pad.
‘Elena?’ Atticus sounded shocked. ‘Elena, what is it?’
But she didn’t answer. She felt cold, the kind of chill that had nothing to do with the temperature, and she had to get away from him. She couldn’t be around him a second longer. Picking up a towel, she wrapped it around herself, then stalked back into the house without a word.
Atticus sat for a moment in the bath, staring after her. He had no idea what had happened, but something had upset her. And she was upset, that was obvious. He’d thought she’d enjoy the outdoor bath and she certainly had been doing before he’d mentioned living together as husband and wife.
