The Final Storm

10. Hello There, Widow Wagoner!

"The discussion earlier, the dinner...you did it for a purpose, didn't you?"

My husband gave a curt nod. "Indeed. I was curious what you would say. After all, there is hardly a reason to go to India if Adaira is already right there with us, is there?"

Raising my chin, I glared at him. "Then why the charade? Why pretend to ask me for my opinion?"

His arctic eyes drilled into my very soul, causing my glare to whither. "I wanted to give you a chance. To see if you would tell me the truth, or if you would continue to lie to me."

Any anger I might have felt vanished into thin air. What right did I have to feel anger? Wasn't it me who was at fault? Wasn't it me who had deceived him? My heart plummeted. But not nearly as much as it did a moment later when he stepped up to me and cupped my face with incomparable gentleness. When he spoke, his voice was soft, but his eyes were colder than I had ever seen them.

"Now I just want to know: why? Why didn't you tell me?"

Those gentle words...they cut like knives. I would have probably preferred it if he had shouted at me. Tears stung at the corners of my eyes, but still I raised my chin to meet his chilly gaze. Unable to stop myself, I let the truth spill out. "Because, if I were in Adaira's shoes, I would do anything to rescue the man I love. I couldn't take that chance away from her. Not if I would have fought tooth and nail to get you back if you were the one in danger!"

The moment my words ended, I lowered my gaze, waiting for his judgement. But when, after several long seconds, none came, I couldn't help but look up—only to see him stand there, thunderstruck. The arctic look in his eyes had completely disappeared, to be replaced with a stare so fierce it made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Wha—"

That single syllable was all I got out before he pulled me into his arms and laid a kiss on me that took my breath away.

"My little ifrit..." He growled against my lips. "Why do you always. Have. To. Be. So. Infuriating?!"

Warmth spread through my heart as I melted against him, a weight that I hadn't really noticed before vanishing from my shoulder. "Because that's the way you love me?"

"Don't you dare think this means you'll get off scot-free!"

"Naturally. I'm not Scottish, I'm a respectable English lady."

"You...! Come here!"

Grabbing hold of my face with both hands, he pulled me into another fierce kiss, pouring every bit of his rage into it. To be honest, if this was how he was going to take his anger out on me, I didn't really mind.

Besides...he had reason to be angry. I had hurt him.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"I know."

"Doesn't mean I regret it, though."

"I know," he growled, tightening his grip on me.

"Everyone has the right to decide their own path in life, you know." Reaching up, I gently cupped his cheek. "Even the women you care about."

"Debatable."

"Oh?" I cocked an eyebrow. "You want to debate feminism with me? Are you sure about that?"

Catching my chin in his hand, he pinned me to the spot. His lips caressed mine as I slowly lost myself in his unfathomable eyes.

"A debate? I prefer..." A soft kiss brushed against my lips. "...silent communication."