Page 97 of Duke with a Deception
She didn’t want him to call her by a pet name. She didn’t even want to face him now. She wanted… Oh, she didn’t know what she wanted. She had never been more confused.
“Fine, then,” he said, his jaw tense. “Has the time we have spent together as husband and wife meant nothing to you, Verity? All the nights you’ve spent in my bed, in my arms, the passion we’ve shared, has it been meaningless?”
“Of course it hasn’t,” she admitted, hating herself for her weakness. “But it was all founded in lies, and nothing you say or do can change that.”
“Do you hate me?”
The question took her by surprise. She wanted to hate him. It would be easier if she did. Easier if he hadn’t told her he loved her. She wasn’t sure if she trusted his word. He had already deceived her into marrying him. She didn’t know what manner of man he truly was.
That is a lie, said a voice within her.You know just what manner of man King is.
She thought of his open, easy affection for Emma. His patience. Thought of the love he’d had for his daughter. He was a good man. But why did he manipulate her into this untenable marriage?
“Answer me,” he said harshly. “Do you hate me?”
“No,” she forced out. “I wish that I did, but I don’t.”
He gave her a self-deprecating smirk. “Well, there is that at least.”
“If you wanted to marry me, why not wait until I regained my memory? Why not court me?” she asked, needing to know.
So many questions had whirled in her mind as she sat here alone, compounding among those that had sprung forth during the ball. All of them unanswered.
“I saw the way you loved him.” His gaze was dark and glittering in the shadows, his handsome mien impossibly grave as he studied her. “And suddenly, that love was all being directed at me, and I found that I wanted it very much. It seemed a pity for someone as kindhearted and lovely and clever as you to wither away pining for a dead man.”
It was almost impossible for Verity to fathom that a man as sought-after as the Duke of Kingham would be envious of the love she’d had for Leo. That he would want to take it for himself.
“But you and I were friends and nothing more. You…you handed me a handkerchief at a ball and took me on a few drives. We were never in love. None of it makes sense.”
“It didn’t matter to me if we were in love or not at that point. I had taken his place in your thoughts and heart, and I liked it there.”
He was deadly earnest.
“You don’t regret what you did,” she said, trying to understand yet again.
“My sole regret is hurting you. I never wanted to do that.” He reached for her as he had before in her bedroom, and this time, she didn’t shrink away from his touch.
Because she wanted it, heaven help her.
He cupped her face, trailing his thumb in a gentle caress over her cheekbone. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the connection, her body alive and yearning for him. How she wished she could forget anew, erase from her mind the memories that had restored themselves. For then she wouldn’t feel this wretched sense of betrayal twice over—the betrayal she had dealt to Leo’s memory and the way King had betrayed her.
She forced her eyes open, hating the stark anguish she saw reflected on his face now that his guard was down. He wore a mask for everyone else. But for her, he was vulnerable. He had been open with her, raw and honest in every way, save the one that now counted the most.
“You didn’t think that keeping the truth from me would hurt me?” she forced herself to ask him, her voice breaking.
Verity was a woman torn. Torn between two lifetimes, two different men. One naught but a cherished memory and the other blood, flesh, and bone, sinfully handsome and tempting before her.
“I knew it would,” King conceded, “and I knew I would have to tell you, but I am a selfish, greedy fool for you, Verity. Iwanted every last second I could have of you looking at me as if I’m a man who deserves you and your love.”
His confession shattered the dam inside her, the one she had promised herself she would not allow to break again. Tears came, hot and stinging, in a rush she couldn’t contain. They coursed down her cheeks.
“I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you’ve done,” she managed past the sobs welling in her throat.
“Don’t weep, my love. I can’t bear it. I’m not worth your tears. I never was.” He wiped the tears away with his thumb and caught the others with his lips, kissing them away.
But still, more came. Because she didn’t know who she was any longer. It was as if she had been split into two, the old Verity and the new Verity. The old Verity couldn’t abide what the new had done, even if she had been confused by the loss of some of her memories. The new Verity didn’t want to let go of the life she had begun to build with King and Emma. She didn’t want to let go of the love.
Slowly, as if giving her time to resist or shove him away, he took her into his arms, cradling her against his chest as she wept for all she had lost and all she had gained, only to lose it again. She knew she should resist, but she was weak and weary, and it felt so good to be held, even if it was by a man she didn’t dare trust. A man to whom she was bound inextricably.
