Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(86)

“Oh, I've reflected on it,” Emma said grimly. “I've also told Nikolas exactly what I thought of his manipulation.”

“He ruined both our lives, Em. I'm married to a woman I don't love. It just seemed to be the only thing to do. I knew I couldn't have you, there was just too much opposition from your family and Nikolas, and then I met Charlotte—”

“Please,” Emma said with discomfort, holding up a hand. “I don't want to talk about her.”

“Certainly. But let me at least tell you…we're not happy together, Charlotte and I. We don't suit. Not as you and I did.” Adam ran a hand through his long, silken sheaves of brown hair, looking impatient and perturbed. There was an edge to his voice, as well as a glint in his eyes, that was unfamiliar to her. “I keep thinking about what we might have had,” he said bluntly. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you and I had married each other?”

“I used to wonder all the time,” she admitted. “But lately…no, I suppose I don't allow myself to think about it anymore.”

“I can't stop dwelling on what was taken from me. Your husband slithered into our lives and took away everything I wanted. I have the damnedest fantasies about the things I'd like to do to him, various ways to cause him incredible pain and degradation—” He stopped in astonishment as Emma began to laugh.

“I'm sorry!” She tried to stifle her gasps of amusement. “It's just…you're not the first, believe me! I think almost everyone who's ever known Nikolas has felt that way about him.”

“I don't think it's amusing,” Adam said with extreme dignity, color etching across his cheekbones.

Emma sobered somewhat, though a few bubbles of laughter were still trapped in her throat. “You're right. Nikolas is an absolute scoundrel.”

“It tortures me to think of you with him—the way he must abuse you, the way he has humiliated you by forcing his bastard son on you—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I want Jake to live here. I care about the boy—and so does Nikolas.” She paused as the truth of her remark resounded in her very bones. “I thought Nikolas couldn't love anyone,” she continued in a wondering tone, “but he adores his son. Either Nikolas has changed, or…there's something in him I never noticed before. Either way, he's the most caring father I've ever seen—aside from my own.”

“Your father!” Adam said indignantly. “You're talking about the two people who both managed to keep us apart! Domineering, manipulative men who like to control everyone around them!” He took her hand and squeezed it tightly. “Em, don't you remember how it was? We loved each other so much, and we were torn apart by those two and their own selfish need of you. They did it so carelessly, so easily—” He broke off with a frustrated sound.

“Yes,” Emma murmured. “Why was it so easy? If we truly loved each other, why were they able to separate us?”

They were both silent then, thinking back to that time just six months ago.

Emma didn't feel any of the pain she had expected, talking about the past. No heartache or longing. To her surprise, it was doing her good, helping to free her from the bitterness and hurt. Even more astonishing, Adam had lost some of the magic sparkle that her memory had endowed him with; he was a little less handsome, a little less perfect, than she had thought. In fact, he seemed rather ordinary in some ways. The revelation perplexed her greatly. Adam no longer made her heart throb with joy, or filled her with intoxicating delight.

I no longer want him the way I once did, she thought.

“You've become so beautiful,” he murmured, staring at her. “So queenly and elegant.”

“I haven't changed a bit,” she said self-consciously.

“Yes, you have. You used to have the most endearing touch of uncertainty, a look in your eyes as if you wanted to hide away from the rest of the world. Now that's gone, and you're so polished…mature…indomitable.”

Emma wrinkled her nose and laughed. “Indomitable? That's a word I would use to describe a statue or a big ship—or a mountain!”

Adam smiled back at her. “You're like a full-blown rose. Is that better?”

“Much.”

He seemed to treasure the moment between them. “Both of us smiling and comfortable with each other,” he mused. “Just like it used to be. Do you remember how it was…how happy we made each other? I've never felt like that before or since.”

“Let's look at it honestly,” Emma said, staring at him steadily. “You also wanted me because of my family's money. If I hadn't come with the promise of a significant dowry, you would never have been interested in me.”

“I wanted you, first and foremost. If you came with a large dowry, so much the better. Was that such a terrible attitude? Why shouldn't I like having money, and all the security and comfort it brings?”

“You have money now. You've married into quite a nice little fortune.”

A strange look came into his eyes, something hard and bright and pained. “It doesn't make up for losing you. Nothing will.”

Emma tried to think of some comment to ease the sudden tension between them, when she became aware of someone else entering the drawing room. Expecting it was a maid with the requested tea tray, she looked up with a trace of relief. To her dismay, she saw her husband standing a few feet inside the doorway.