Because You Are Mine (Because You Are Mine #1)(79)
Did his muscles tense when she said that?
“Your body became a battleground,” Ian said.
“That’s what all those psychologists used to say.”
“I can just imagine what those same psychologists would say about your becoming involved with me.”
She lifted her head from his chest and met his stare. The lighting was at a dim setting in his bedroom suite. She couldn’t quite make out his expression.
“You mean because you’re so controlling?” she asked.
He nodded once. “I told you that I practically drove my former wife over the edge.”
Francesca’s pulse began to throb as she stared at his stark male beauty. She knew how rare it was for him to speak of his past. “Did you . . . did you care about her so much that you were always worried about her well-being?”
“No.”
She blinked at his rapid, absolute response. He winced slightly and glanced away. “I wasn’t in love with her or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. I was twenty-one years old, still in college, and a fool for having gotten involved with her. I’d had an argument with my grandparents at around that time. A big one. We hadn’t spoken for months. I suppose I was a little vulnerable for the possibility of being blinded by a woman like Elizabeth. I met her at a fund-raiser at the University of Chicago—one that my grandmother happened to attend while trying to mend fences with me. Elizabeth was a gifted ballet dancer who came from an affluent American family. She was taught to crave the type of status my grandmother represents.”
“And you,” Francesca said softly.
“That’s what Elizabeth thought at first—before we married and she actually got to know me, and she came to realize what a mistake she’d made. She wanted a Prince Charming and got stuck with a bastard devil,” he said, a small, mirthless smile twisting his mouth. “Elizabeth may have been a virgin, but she was far from innocent in the art of getting what she wanted. She designed to snare me in her trap, and I was stupid enough to let her.”
“She . . . she got pregnant on purpose?”
Ian nodded, his gaze flickering over her face. “I know a lot of men say that, but in our case, it was a proven truth. After she became pregnant and we married, I discovered her old pill packs in the bathroom. She appeared to be taking them very irregularly. When I confronted her about it, she admitted that she’d stopped taking the pill once we began seeing each other. She claimed it was because she wanted to have my child, but I didn’t believe her. Or I should say, she did want to become pregnant in order to marry, but I don’t believe she truly wanted the experience of motherhood.”
She experienced a sinking feeling. “Aren’t you worried about the possibility of my doing the same thing? With the birth control, I mean?”
“No.”
“Why are you so certain?” Francesca asked, although warmth flooded her at his quick, confident reply.
“Because I’m a much better reader of character at thirty than I was at twenty-one,” he stated dryly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “So what happened after you confronted Elizabeth?”
“I was convinced she would do something to harm the child once I discovered how she’d manipulated me. The pregnancy had served its purpose. We were married. She was very beautiful—physically, anyway—and a dedicated dancer. Despite her need for a pregnancy, I think she despised the idea of what it would do to her body . . . how it would change her life. She was hardly the maternal type. I thought she might do something to end the pregnancy. I wouldn’t have put it past her, anyway.” He met her stare steadily. “It wasn’t Elizabeth I was so worried about protecting. It was the child she carried. So yes, I did become overly controlling. You know how I can be.”
“But you said once that she tried to blame you for the loss of the child,” she recalled.
He nodded. “She said it was because I rode her so hard about taking care of herself, because I was so controlling about her daily activities and schedule. She felt I restricted her freedom . . . made her a prisoner to my anxiety. She was undoubtedly right about that. It’s what I do when I care about someone, and I cared about that child.”
“Even so, that doesn’t sound like a viable reason for someone to lose a child. One out of five women miscarry, right? Why couldn’t it have just been a natural thing versus something you did?” Francesca asked, puzzled and little annoyed with this Elizabeth. She sounded like a manipulative wimp.
“We’ll never really know for certain. It doesn’t matter anyway,” he said.
Francesca thought it did matter—very much. It related to why he considered himself so tainted when it came to relationships, so broken.
“Why did you marry her if you didn’t really love her?” she couldn’t resist asking.
He gave a small shrug, and she couldn’t help but touch a muscular shoulder. She wanted to soothe him. She couldn’t keep her hands off him. Who knew when he’d let her touch him so freely again?
“I would never allow a child of mine to be a bastard,” he said.
Her caressing fingers stilled at that. It was only the second time he’d ever mentioned his illegitimacy to her. She recalled that he’d called himself a bastard the first night they’d met, at the cocktail party in her honor.