Secrets In The Marriage Bed. Nalini Singh
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was raw. “I just need to say this. I’ve been trying for so long.”
“What?” Giving in to his own need, he drew her into his arms. She came without hesitation, spooning her back to his front. The familiarity of the gesture was bittersweet. Vicki didn’t mind his embrace. All those late nights when he’d finally slipped into bed, she’d sleepily scooted nearer so he could tuck her close.
“The way I am in bed…it’s not your fault.”
What was he supposed to make of that?
She took a deep, halting breath. “Grandmother…”
The abrupt change of topic threw him. “What about her?”
Caleb didn’t particularly like Ada Wentworth, even though the old woman had introduced him to Vicki and given her smiling blessing to their union. He’d known that Ada had chosen to overlook his lack of breeding only because of his increasing wealth and connections, but it hadn’t mattered. Despite the ten-year gap in their ages, he’d fallen headlong for Vicki.
She put her hand over the arm he had around her waist. “She said—She said that the reason my father left my mother was because my mother was a s-slut. A w-whore who’d spread her legs for any man who asked.”
Caleb bit off a sharp curse. “How old were you?” He knew she’d been sent to live with Ada at four years of age, soon after her parents, Danica and Gregory Wentworth, had divorced.
“I can’t remember the first time, but I grew up with her voice in my head telling me ‘like mother, like daughter.’ I guess I must have been very young when she started. There was never a time when I didn’t know what Grandmother thought of Mother and what she’d think of me if I ever strayed out of line.”
He was rocked by the viciousness of the wounds Vicki had hidden inside herself.
“And she said,” Vicki continued before he could speak, “that unless I was the perfect model of a wife, you’d leave me, too. She told me that men don’t want their wives to be w-whores. If I wanted to keep you, I had better make sure I always acted like a lady, not a slut.”
She was killing him. “Vicki—”
“When I was ten, my father married Claire. She’s so perfect, sometimes I don’t think she’s real. It’s as if she has ice running in her veins. I’ve never seen her show any powerful emotion. Grandmother used to tell me, ‘Look at Claire and now look at Danica. Men sleep with sluts, but they marry women of breeding.’ I believed her.”
Caleb wanted to strangle Ada. “I married you,” he said, trying to cut through her pain. “I never asked you to be anything other than the woman you were.”
“That’s just it, Caleb.” Haunting sadness laced her tone. “You were so proud to be marrying the woman Grandmother had made me into, the woman I was when we met. So proud of the way I talked and acted. I wanted you to love me so I tried hard to continue to be that woman even though she wasn’t really me.
“And all the time, I knew I wasn’t giving you what you needed but I didn’t understand what it was that I was doing wrong. I kept trying harder and harder but no matter what I did, you kept moving further away from me. Then one day I realized that if I tried any harder to be someone I wasn’t, I’d disappear forever.”
Stunned, he put both hands on her shoulders and tugged her onto her back with him braced over her. She tried to avoid his gaze but he put a finger on her jaw and applied gentle pressure until her eyes met his. “You don’t have to act a certain way to prove yourself to me. The only thing I ever wanted was for you to drop your shields and let me in.”
Her eyes widened at his husky words. A hesitant hand rose to touch his cheek and he felt his whiskers scrape her skin. He used to shower and shave before coming to her, wanting to be what he’d thought she needed.
“Really?” Doubt continued to throw shadows over her expression.
Understanding, he stroked the hair off her face. “Don’t you think I could tell what Ada had tried to do to you? What attracted me to you was your spirit, your refusal to be crushed by her. I was so goddamn proud to have you as my wife. You, not the well-bred, elegant doll.”
“And I was proud to have you as my husband.” Vicki’s hand slid to rest on his shoulder. “Proud of what you’d achieved through sheer determination. Did you know I used to brag to the other wives about your successful cases? Sometimes, I’d go sit in the back of the courtroom to watch you work and think, he’s mine.”
Caleb’s whole world changed in that instant. “Vicki,” he whispered. No one had ever been proud of him. His family came to him for money but not one of them had ever said, “Well done, Caleb, well done.” Not one of them had ever come to watch him defend a case. And not one of them had ever been so proud that they’d praised him to others.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head. “I’m as much to blame as you. I pushed and pushed like I always do.” As a child, belligerence had been the only way he’d been able to make his father, Max, “see” him. As often as not, his stubbornness had sparked Max’s temper, but back then Caleb had been desperate enough to value any connection with the man. The experience had scarred him, made him emotionally aggressive when dealing with the people who mattered to him, with Vicki.
“And I let you,” she added, taking a burden that should never have set on her shoulders. “Every time I tried to speak about it, I’d get so nervous and when you began to soothe me and say we could talk about whatever it was later, I’d agree. But later never came.”
Caleb wasn’t going to allow her to let him off the hook so easily. “Honey, I knew you wanted to tell me something…” I just didn’t want to hear it. I thought,” he dropped his head and owned up to his colossal blunder, “that you’d tell me you didn’t want to be in bed with me. So I tried to change your mind each time.” Another assumption, he realized, beginning to see the pattern in his dealings with Vicki.
Her eyes were huge. “What happens next?”
“I want to be married to you, Vicki.” Nothing subtle would work now. “Do you want to be married to me?”
The pause was minuscule. “Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
It wasn’t the avowal he’d been looking for. But it was better than her earlier statement that they were still separated. “Then giving up is not an option.” It had never been for him. And despite Vicki’s ambivalence, he didn’t think it had ever been for her, either. If it had, she would have taken his key when she’d kicked him out and refused to see him those times he’d come over or invited her to lunch. But she hadn’t.
“Caleb…” She put a hesitant hand on his upper arm. “Do you want…? We can try again.”
The vulnerability he could see shattered him. He knew that right now, he could ask for anything in bed and she’d try to provide it. But he didn’t want his wife giving in to him because she was laboring under a burden of guilt. He wanted them to bridge this distance in the bright light of day.
“All I want is for you to sleep in my arms.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Part of him—the part that had been deprived for years—whispered that he should take this chance, that it might never come again, that this emotional woman in his arms would be gone when morning arrived, replaced by the cool, elegant lady he barely dared to touch.
Troubled eyes met his. “Caleb, I can…”
“Hush.” He moved onto his back, pulling her against his chest. “Sleep. This is enough for tonight.” Despite the desperate voices urging him to take what she was trying to offer and not look back, he knew he spoke the truth. His wife was used to keeping her emotions well under control. And yet she’d come to him tonight.
Finally, she’d come to him.