To Have and to Hold by Nalini Singh

was soft and gentle. He’d never bend for a woman, most especially not a woman he’d bought and married on the understanding that she’d expect nothing from him.
    Ever .
    * * *
    Several days passed in a procession of tense words and strained silences, with Jess keeping her distance while she figured out what to do. If she went to Sylvie’s party, Gabe would win yet another skirmish in their ongoing war. But if she didn’t, then that blond bitch would undoubtedly try something to ensnare Gabe. And Jess was discovering she had a rather wide streak of possessiveness where her husband was concerned. Something else she’d neither expected nor prepared for.
    Of course, staying away from Gabe only worked during the day. During the night, she was his. In spite of everything, she’d come to crave the way he made her feel—so alive, so passionate, so intrinsically female. There was also another, less obvious temptation—she’d begun to believe that bed was the one place where Gabe might allow his ironclad control over his emotions to slip.
    Sometimes, in the midst of the deepest intimacy, she thought she caught glimpses of the man behind the mask, fleeting moments of vulnerability and true feeling. If she could only push him further, make him remove that mask in other surroundings, she might yet discover the answers she so desperately needed…discover whether their marriage had a heart or was only a barren field. But Gabe never let her go that far, retreating behind his titanium-strong walls as soon as their bodies separated.
    â€œEnough, Jess.” She slashed paint onto a canvas and told herself to stop thinking about the things that took place in the lush intimacy of Gabriel’s bed. Which left her mind free to stew over the party—now only two nights away. And about the fact that she hadn’t heard from Richard Dusevic. A glob of paint flicked off her brush and onto the canvas.
    â€œDamn it!” She decided to stop before she ruined the painting altogether.
    A quick shower later, she grabbed the keys to the SUV and left Angel, not giving herself the opportunity to change her mind. She’d been a coward long enough.
    It was time to go home.
    To the main house on Randall Station, the place where she’d watched her father die a quiet death, safe in the knowledge that Jess would protect their land. Tears burned the backs of her eyes. Fighting them, she clamped her hands on the steering wheel and stared out at the passing scenery.
    It was maybe sixty minutes later that the station house first came into view, getting larger as she approached. And then there it was. Tempting as it was to turn the SUV around, she shut off the engine and stepped out.
    She’d half expected to find it falling to pieces, but it appeared to have been well maintained. Going up onto the verandah, she peered through the glass and gave a shocked gasp when she saw all their old furniture sitting inside, carefully covered with dust cloths.
    Emotion a knot in her throat, she put her hand on the doorknob. It was locked, of course. She’d never returned after being evicted by the bank, but now she wondered if anyone had bothered to change the locks.
    Running back down the steps, she reached under the last one and scrabbled around until she located a small rock. “Gotcha!” The key was rusty but otherwise fine. Dusting off her knees, she went to try the lock. If it had been changed, she’d have to ask Gabe for the new key and, in her current mood, she didn’t want to ask him for anything.
    She slid the slender piece of metal into the lock and turned. “Please. Please let me in.”

Chapter Eight
    T he door opened in smooth welcome. Kicking off her shoes out of habit, she walked through the hallway and into the living room. It hurt. So many memories, so many good times. But walking into the kitchen was the worst. This was the heart of the house, where she and her father had