Victoria gave up trying to fall asleep sometime around two in the morning. Though Caleb had long since returned, they never did have that dinner she’d dressed up for with such high hopes. Like so many other meals in the past, it had fallen by the wayside. Except this time it wasn’t Caleb’s work at fault but her own cowardice.

      Lying on her back, she stared at the darkness of the ceiling through tear-filled eyes and thought about the mess she’d made of her life. It was no use continuing to blame Caleb for the field of broken dreams that had become their marriage, no matter how easy that was. She was as much, if not more, to blame. If only she’d stood up to him at the start and said what was in her heart, he would have never begun to believe that she didn’t want him.

      How had he survived?

      “Because he’s strong,” she whispered to the darkness. Strong and used to fighting for everything he’d ever gotten from life. But he’d been unable to fight her inhibitions, unable to fight years of Grandmother Ada’s pitiless conditioning.

      Why hadn’t he ever told her what she was doing to him? And why hadn’t she ever asked him what he needed, what he wanted in bed? Accustomed to Caleb taking charge, she’d always allowed him to focus on pleasing her. Especially in bed. When had she ever tried to please him?

      Never.

      Her heart clenched. Her inexperience was no excuse, not when she’d soon realized that Caleb needed something from her that she didn’t know how to give. Instead of asking him, she’d buried her head in the sand and pretended everything was okay, using the coping tactic that had allowed her to survive after her mother had abandoned her on Ada’s doorstep. However, mere survival was no longer enough. She wanted to live.

      Pushing aside the blanket, she got up and padded down the wide hallway to the kitchen. The romantic glow of the moonlight streaming through the windows seemed to mock her as she pulled a carton of milk from the fridge. Pouring some into a glass, she replaced the carton and put her cold fingers to her eyelids.

      A creaking noise came from the hallway and a second later, Caleb entered the kitchen wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts. “What are you doing up?” His voice was rough, his hair mussed.

      “I couldn’t sleep.” She raised her glass in explanation. “Do you want some?” Caleb stood only a few feet from her and yet miles away. She didn’t know if she had the courage to cross the divide.

      He merely raised an eyebrow at the offer.

      Finishing her drink, she put the glass in the sink and rubbed her hands on the thighs of her flannel pj’s. “Did I wake you?” Was she going to pretend that he hadn’t left her naked and alone in bed? Continue living her life in a fantasy world? Or was she finally going to say what needed to be said?

      “No.”

      God, he was so beautiful to her and she was so afraid to touch him. Swallowing, she crossed the cool tiles until she was less than an arm’s length away. “I guess you have a busy day tomorrow. You should try to sleep.” Why couldn’t she say what she so desperately wanted to say?

      She tried to force the truth out, fighting years of being told that passion and desire were dangerous and destructive. Words bubbled up in her throat but no matter how hard she pushed, fear kept her lips from shaping them into sound.

      Something like disappointment flickered in Caleb’s eyes but she couldn’t be sure in the semidarkness of the room. He simply moved to let her pass, then fell in step behind her. She heard him enter the guest bedroom a few seconds after she’d shut the door to the master bedroom and slumped against it.

      More tears burned at the back of her eyes, mute evidence of her frustration and anger. What was wrong with her? Was she so cowardly that she couldn’t even take the necessary steps toward saving her marriage? Was she going to settle for this half-life, with her husband thinking she couldn’t bear his touch?

      So angry with herself that she wanted to scream, she forced herself to remember each moment of the two months she’d spent alone in this house. Every single day she’d come into this bedroom, crawled into this bed and hungered for Caleb. She’d slept on his side of the mattress, worn his old shirts, spent entire nights dreaming of his loving.

      Was she willing to go back to that existence? Because she knew without a doubt that her husband wasn’t going to return to her bed unless she convinced him she needed him desperately. She’d hurt him too much.

      It was the thought of Caleb in such pain that straightened her defeated posture. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her hair behind her ears and opened the door.

      Caleb’s own door was open and she knew why. Even in his anger, he wanted to be able to hear her if she needed him. It was a good sign, she told herself as she walked in. He was lying on his side facing away, but she knew he heard her come in even though he didn’t move. For the first time in their married life, Caleb had turned his back to her.

      Fighting the hot rush of fear, she crossed the endless carpet and sat on the other side of the bed. As soon as she touched the mattress she knew she was making a mistake. There was only one way she could reach Caleb—she had to stop protecting herself. She moved to lie beside him, her head nestled in the hollow of his back, one hand on his waist.

      “What are you doing here, Vicki?”

      She’d never heard him sound that harsh, that unwelcoming. It shot her confidence to pieces but she was here and if she could come this far, she could keep going. “You walked away without letting me explain.”

      “What’s there to explain?”

      So much, she thought desperately, that she couldn’t find the words for. “I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you thought I didn’t want you. I swear, I didn’t know.” She’d thought she was doing something wrong and had tried to control her own reactions so as not to offend him, not realizing she was taking the worst possible action.

      Caleb didn’t reach out to gather her into his arms as he had so many nights in the past. She ached to be held. But it wasn’t easy for a woman who’d spent a lifetime hiding her emotions to lay them out in the open.

      “Now you do.”

      And the next step was hers.

      The thing was, Vicki didn’t know how to take that next step, didn’t know how to fix this broken bridge between them. She’d never confided in him, never once taken the chance of putting her pride, her heart, her deep insecurities on the line.

      “You have to help me,” she whispered. If she was going to lose her husband, it wouldn’t be because she’d been too afraid to chance her heart. “I can’t do this without you.”

      At last, he turned. But he didn’t hold her, instead propping himself up on his elbow. “We’ve had enough lies between us. Just tell me the truth. Why?”

      Why did you marry me if you can’t stand my touch?

      The words he’d spoken in anger earlier whispered around the room, a silent third party to this painful conversation.

      “I love your touch,” she repeated her own words. But this time when he began to move away, she grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t. Don’t, Caleb.”

      It was the break in Vicki’s voice that halted Caleb. He knew she was fighting tears. No matter how much it hurt him to lie beside her knowing she felt nothing for him when he burned for her, he’d do it if it would stop her from crying. He had no defense against her tears, not when he knew exactly what they cost her.

      In the early days of their marriage, she’d once confessed that she didn’t cry because as a child,