Carides's Forgotten Wife by Maisey Yates Page A

out and slept with other women.
    The idea sent a lash of shame streaking through him like the crack of a whip. Hot. Painful. But somewhere beneath the self-loathing was...concern.
    Why? Why hadn’t he touched her? Why had he held himself back?
    “How are you feeling?”
    He turned in his seat and saw Rose standing in the doorway, wearing a flowing dress with a flower pattern, teasing him with just a peek of long slender leg.
    It was easy to push his questions and concerns to the back of his mind when he could see her. As soon as he saw her he wanted to push her dress up past her hips and bury his face between her thighs.
    It was preferable to thinking.
    “Well,” he said. “I can dress myself now anyway.”
    A wicked light danced in her blue eyes. “I would rather undress you.”
    Heat flared in his gut and he pushed his previous concerns down even further. “I am glad you think that way, agape .”
    She stepped out onto the terrace and he began to push himself into a standing position, a dull pain shooting through his midsection as he disturbed his injuries.
    “Don’t,” she said, holding her hand out. “Just sit. There’s plenty of time for...touching later.”
    He frowned. “I want to touch you now.”
    She extended her hand and he gripped her slender fingers in his, a flash of lightning hitting him low and hard. “How’s that?”
    “Not enough.” Never enough. How would it ever be enough? He might never have all the answers to who he was. But he had her. She was his beacon. His touchstone.
    She smiled and it moved places inside of him. It hurt. As though heat was touching ice for the first time.
    “Leon...”
    “Why history?” he asked.
    “What?” she asked, blinking.
    “What made you decide to major in history?” If he couldn’t strip her naked, he would convince her to reveal herself in other ways. She was all he had. She filled his brain, his body, his soul. There was nothing else, and he wasn’t even certain he cared.
    Why should he make an effort to know himself, in all his filthy, broken lack of glory, when he could know her?
    “Well, I like research,” she said. “And if you research the past you can accomplish a lot of it in...silence. Reading. Exploring the basements and attics of old houses and libraries.”
    “You like to be alone?”
    She frowned. “I like time to think. And...questioning texts is much...safer than questioning actual people.”
    He had a feeling she applied that to more than just history.
    “Is that why you never said anything to me?” he asked. “About my behavior?”
    She looked away from him, her pale throat contracting as she swallowed hard. “We married for the company and for the house. It never seemed...”
    “That is not the only reason,” he said, his voice growing rough. “I know it wasn’t.”
    He could not have been blind to his attraction to her. And his attraction wasn’t new. He was confident in that.
    “It was as far as I knew,” she said, her tone stiff. “For you anyway.” She softened on that last part, and it made his chest ache.
    He did not deserve her. He was certain of few things but that was one of them. “I do not think that’s the case.”
    But there was something. Something that had held him back from her. Something that had kept her a virgin, and kept him away as often as possible.
    Part of him wanted to know.
    Most of him simply wanted things to stay as they were. Because here and now, he had her. He never wanted to let her go.
    * * *
    Everything went perfectly over the next few weeks. And if Rose felt a small amount of disquiet, ever present and ominous, resting in her chest, she did her best to ignore it. Leon was... He was the most caring, solicitous man she had ever known. And the sex... Well, that was much better than anything she had ever imagined she might experience. It was incredible. He was incredible. There was so much passion between them it was impossible to imagine things had ever been cold.
    She felt like