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He’d been planning on having the conversation since they’d arrived on the island, but he’d thought he’d give them both a few days to get comfortable with each other, and to take the edge off the seemingly bottomless well of desire he had for her.
He’d thought to surprise her with the bath since she was such a sensual creature, and he knew she’d enjoy it. Then he’d bring the subject up when she was relaxed and in his arms. He hadn’t thought it would be a big deal, especially not given the past couple of days.
Being with her had been a revelation. She’d fallen into the rhythms of the island as if born to them, seemingly delighted by everything he showed her. She was up for anything he suggested, even demanding that he show her how to fillet and prepare the fish she caught. She was fascinated by how he recycled everything he could because he wanted to leave as minimal a footprint on the island as possible, which had then led to a discussion about sustainable housing, which was something he wanted to develop with Eleos.
She was so interesting. She had a quick mind and could see the big picture in a way that he sometimes struggled with, since he was so detail oriented. She also had the sweetest laugh that he soon found himself obsessed with, and coaxing her glorious smile out made him feel as if he’d won a gold medal.
He wanted more of that and his suggestion of them living together was merely a natural extension of what they were already doing. So what was it about it that she hadn’t liked? Did it really matter why he wanted them to live together? She’d seemed upset about him calling her his hope, that it meant it wasn’t really her that he wanted, and clearly that mattered to her. But why? What more did she want from him? They’d married for the will, that was all, but surely that didn’t mean they couldn’t live together or raise a family together. He wanted that and he knew that she wanted it too, so what was the issue?
Annoyance collected inside him. He hadn’t handled this well, it was clear, otherwise she wouldn’t have walked off, but if she thought he’d leave it at that, she was mistaken. This was important, their future was important, and he wanted it sorted out sooner rather than later.
Getting out of the bath, Atticus gave himself a cursory dry-off with a towel and then strode back along the path and into the house.
He found Elena in the bedroom, in the process of belting a long silk robe of blue Chinese silk very firmly around her. It annoyed him unreasonably.
He’d loved how she’d become so comfortable with him and with herself that she wasn’t bothered that they didn’t wear clothes most of the day. It was a far cry from the prissy cream suit she’d worn the first day she’d come here and he’d dumped her in the ocean.
But now the fact that she wore a robe, covering up her beautiful body, felt as if she was putting distance between them. As if she was armouring herself, and he didn’t like that, not at all.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, trying not to make it sound like a demand. ‘Why are you upset?’
Her expression was very set and she half turned away from him, squeezing her hair out with the towel she had wrapped around it. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said dismissively. ‘Forget it.’
She was lying through her teeth and that annoyed him as well. He was tempted to provoke her into an argument, since they sparked so completely off each other that it would likely end up in bed. She’d probably forget all about whatever was upsetting her then, so maybe it would be worth it.
This will take more than just sex and you know it.
Doubt shifted inside him and an odd desperation he didn’t know what to do with. This had to be discussed, whatever it was, because he had the sense that if it wasn’t, the future he wanted with her would slip through his fingers. He couldn’t have that; he just couldn’t.
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘I’m not going to forget it. Tell me what’s wrong.’
She squeezed the towel one more time then dropped it, her hair falling around her shoulders in damp, pretty golden curls. Her eyes were very dark and he could see pain glittering in them. ‘I told you what was wrong. You say I’m your hope, Atticus, but I’m not. I’m your wife. I’m a person, not a...a talisman.’
A flicker of surprise cut through his anger and frustration. He didn’t see her that way. How could she think that? After the past few days?
Don’t you? Isn’t that exactly how you see her? How you’ve always seen her?
‘What makes you think that?’ he demanded, ignoring the thought.
‘You said I was your hope for the future.’ Her chin came up, her dark eyes full of anger. ‘That’s not about me, is it? That’s all about you, Atticus.’
Something in his chest twisted hard. ‘It’s not about me,’ he snapped before he could stop himself. ‘It’s about Dorian.’
Her gaze flickered, her expression softening. ‘What about Dorian?’
He didn’t want to talk about this—he never wanted to talk about this—but back in Greece he’d decided he couldn’t outrun the past. And that she was the one person in this world who knew all about the tragedy that had taken Dorian’s life. He didn’t have to explain it to her. Yet still, the words were hard to find.
‘He...will never have this,’ Atticus said roughly. ‘He will never have a wife and he’ll never have a family. And so since I have the opportunity, I...owe it to him to have both.’
Pain flickered in Elena’s eyes for a moment, then her lashes lowered, veiling her gaze. ‘I see. So this future you want, this life you’re planning on, is for him, not for you.’ It wasn’t a question.
There was a heavy sensation in his chest as if a boulder had fallen on him and he were lying pinned beneath it, struggling to get a breath. ‘It’s not just for him. Elena, I... I haven’t seen a future for me, not one that includes a wife and children. But... I told you, Aristeidis’s will, marrying you, it was as if fate was trying to tell me something. That perhaps I deserved after all to have the things that I took from Dorian.’
She stared at him for a long moment, her brown eyes soft with an emotion he didn’t understand, sympathy almost and a terrible kind of understanding. Terrible, because it hurt, as if she’d slid a sharp knife between his ribs. ‘You think you don’t deserve those things?’ she asked.
The harsh laugh escaped him before he could stop it. ‘Of course I don’t deserve them. I killed my own brother. Why would I deserve anything of the kind?’
‘Atticus...’ She took a step towards him then stopped. ‘It was an accident. You were very young and—’
