“You’re not in bed,” he casually remarked.
“Neither are you.”
“I needed a change of scenery.” It was the truth. His room felt stuffy, and he was too restless to sit beside a quiet fire all night. “Lost track of time, though, and fell asleep. Why are you awake?”
“I came for a book,” she lied.
If only to humor her, Ben gestured to the shelves.
“Do you have any recommendations?” she asked. She hunched forward as she mindlessly ran her slender fingers over the spines lined up neatly on each shelf. Some she pulled out, others she left hanging half-in from their resting places. Something is troubling her.
Ben crossed his arms. “Remi.”
At the sound of her name, she turned back around. “Hm?”
“Do you really want to read?” Ben moved closer to where she stood.
She tensed. He might have enjoyed her reaction, but the lilac depressions beneath her eyes concerned him.
“Or are you here for something else?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re lying,” he began, vaguely gesturing to the dark oak bookcases. “You’re mindlessly tearing books from the shelves without any regard for titles. You’re clearly distracted.”
The way she frowned pricked at him. She looked confused, and yet—there was some understanding in her expression. She was more than just distracted; she was hiding something.
“Are you trying to find clues?” he pushed without thinking.
“Clues? To what?”
He gritted his teeth. “My father’s money. The treasure he left us.”
“Ben,” she tried, her face pale. “No. That’s not—”
“Then why are you in here?” he demanded. “What are you hiding? What is it that you won’t say?”
For a moment, her bottom lip trembled, as if her delicate porcelain mask of composure would shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces. But then it was gone; she was changed. Remi straightened her back, dropped her hands from her chest, and held them fisted at her sides.
“Are you quite finished?” she spat in a tone that he hadn’t expected. After the slightest pause, as if she were considering whether or not she should speak the words she wanted to, she continued. “Are you quite finished being such...such an insufferable ass?”
Ben scowled. “I haven’t even started.”
Remi’s face turned an angry red. A sea of pent-up frustration roared between them. Too many questions unanswered, too many feelings unresolved. The waves crashed against the walls they’d built up against each other.
“I don’t understand you!” she finally cried. “One minute, you’re angry with me, and the next you’re kind, almost sweet. Why?”
Her question broke the damn. Ben opened his mouth, and the words rolled off his tongue easily, tasting in equal parts like honey and vinegar. Honey, for the relief they brought; vinegar for the regret that instantly stung. He couldn’t take them back.
LOVER’S QUARREL
REMI
“Because you married my father,” he snarled, backing her into the shelf, “and I loathe you for it. I loathe myself for being jealous of him.”
Remi cringed. The hurt in his voice and the pain in his crumpled expression pierced her heart like a dagger. With fists at her side, she held her ground as Ben unleashed his wrath.
“And then there was your letter,” he said, trembling with anger. “Can you imagine for a moment how it felt to receive a formal announcement of your engagement to my father weeks after you’d begged me to come home? The first correspondence I’d received in over a decade, and both ripped me apart.”
Remi pressed her lips together. She remembered her own words well enough that she could still smell the fresh ink as it soaked into the parchment.
“Do you know what that fucking invitation did to me?” His voice cracked, raw, and almost pleading. “Seeing your name next to his—I thought I’d dreamt it all, but a week went by, and I realized it was true. My father’s cousins even sent you gifts! Gifts! I burned your letter and the invitation. I couldn’t stand another day knowing you’d played me.”
“Played you?” she asked tightly.
“Don’t pretend, not when I know the truth.” He leaned in, his face closer to hers. The lines of his frustration cut deep into his skin. “I almost came for you.”
Remi’s eyes widened, sparkling with fresh tears. “You did?”
“You have no idea how I yearned to come home.” He bared his teeth and hissed at her through them. “And then you married him, and I wanted to die.”
“Ben…” Her own voice cracked.
He looked miserable. “When I saw you again, standing on the steps outside my home, I knew I had made the wrong choice. I should have come home.”
She swallowed. He had wanted to come home. More than that, he almost came for her. Her letter had moved him more than she thought, and with that realization, she was undone. Her heart beat so hard in her chest, she could feel it in her ears.
Their eyes met, trapped in each other’s gaze for a few breathless moments. Remi reached up to stroke his cheek; his shoulders sagged as he turned his face into her palm, the warmth of his lips sending a ripple of desire through her body. She sighed as a hand circled her elbow, the other sinking from the wall to hover beside her waist. Ben inched his face along her hand, brushing the tip of his nose along her wrist. A whimper escaped her throat, catching his attention. He looked at her, his dark eyes burning with an unspoken passion.
