Carides's Forgotten Wife

ROSE FELT LIKE she was losing her mind. Which, really wouldn’t do since Leon had so clearly lost his.

“That isn’t fair. He hasn’t lost his mind, he’s lost his memory,” she said, scolding herself as she paced the empty study.

The past two days had been the most trying of her entire life. And all things considered, that was saying something. She had endured an awful lot in her life. From her mother dying when she was a young girl to the loss of her father when she was only twenty-one. Continually feeling as though she didn’t fit in with her peers, because she was too quiet, too mousy to be of interest to anyone. Because she would rather spend her time in dusty libraries than at wild parties. Because if she was going to shop for anything it would probably be stationery or books rather than the latest fashions.

She had spent the past two years married to a man who hadn’t touched her outside of their wedding day.

Yes, it was safe to say that Rose Tanner had not had it easy.

Still, watching a man like Leon go through something like this, seeing him so reduced... It was... It was awful. She wished very much that she didn’t care quite so intensely. Even when she was angry with him, even when she talked herself into believing that she hated him, it didn’t change the fact that he was the most vibrant, powerful, incredible man she had ever met.

Seeing him injured. Seeing him unsure. Seeing him as mortal... It was as though the last remaining safety net in her life had been pulled away. She had already lost her other pillars. Her mother. Her father. And now, she was losing Leon, too.

Sure, he hadn’t exactly been a fantastic emotional support in the past few years, but he had been steady. Predictable, at least.

He could have died a couple of days ago, and he might never again be the man that he had been. Acknowledging that was devastating in a way she could never have anticipated.

“Get it together.”

Her stern admonishment echoed off the walls, and she bit back the rising hysteria that was threatening to burst out of her.

She should do something. Go out to the garden and tend to the roses. Finish cataloging her father’s extensive library. Instead, she sat on a dark green settee in front of the fireplace and allowed a wave of misery to wash over her.

She wanted so very much to be done with this. To be done with all of this sitting still and waiting for something better to become of her life, for something better to become of her marriage.

She wanted Tanner house. Of course she did. But she knew Leon wanted it, too. Ultimately, she had been willing to walk away from both if need be.

But she couldn’t walk away from him now. She needed to see him well. And then with a clear conscience she could go. She could get on with her life.

And if he doesn’t remember anything ever?

For one brief moment the temptation to lie to him overtook her. To tell him that the two of them were madly in love. To tell him that he had married her because he couldn’t keep his hands off of her, not because he wanted to inherit her father’s business empire and the home that had become close to his heart.

Yes, for one moment she was tempted. She wouldn’t be human if she wasn’t. She had spent so many years fantasizing about what it would be like to have Leon want her. To have him look at her and see her as a woman.

She couldn’t do it. It would be... Well, it would be disgusting, but more than that it would be the furthest thing from what she really wanted. She didn’t want Leon to be her prisoner. That was basically what he was already.

Actually, you’re his.

She couldn’t really argue with that. She had agreed to marry him, and then she had basically been installed in this house and left to rattle around the vacant halls. Meanwhile, he had continued to live life as though he were a single man.

The entire world knew they were married. The entire world also knew that he was an incorrigible playboy. And nobody knew that she had been trapped in an agreement to stay married to him for five years in order to make his ownership of her father’s company permanent, and for her to end up with the home in the event of a divorce.

That was the prenuptial agreement, dictated by her father before his death.

But she wasn’t waiting anymore. He could have the company. He could have the house. She just wanted to be free.

She had come to the point where she’d known she had two choices. To sit down and talk to him on one of the rare occasions he came home, and let him know how badly she wanted to give their marriage a chance. To tell him how she felt. Or, to ask for a divorce.

She’d opted for a divorce. Because there was no good way for the other conversation to end. She would lay her heart out there for him to see, risk everything and get rejected.

She’d decided she’d rather skip a few steps.

“Is it nearly dinnertime?”

She turned toward the sound of the gruff, sleepy voice and her heart nearly evaporated, right along with her good intentions. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of black, low-slung pants. His chest was bare, and she ought to be concerned about his wounds. About the bandage over his shoulder, the dark purple bruises streaked along his torso. Instead, her eyes chose mostly to fixate on his muscles.

On his perfectly defined chest, on the muscles in his abs that were rippling with each indrawn breath.

“I think so,” she said, well aware that she sounded a little bit like she was the one who had been hit over the head.

“I’m starving,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. He was holding a gray T-shirt in his hand, but made no move to put it on. “This is the first time I’ve been hungry since the accident. It’s quite nice. I don’t suppose you’ll allow me to have a drink yet?”

“Still medicated, Leon.”

“I’m starting to think that I would sacrifice pain medication for a drink.” He frowned. “Do I drink a lot?”

She tried to think of Leon’s habits. She wasn’t overly familiar with them, since they didn’t spend all that much time together. But, come to think of it, he was rarely without a drink in his hand.

“A bit,” she said, cautiously. “Though I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.”

“I have been craving a drink ever since I woke up. I don’t know if it’s simply because I’m in a situation of extreme stress or if I potentially have a bit of a dependency.”

“You go out a lot,” she said. “And why don’t you put your shirt on?”

She sounded a little more desperate than she would have liked, but if he found it out of the ordinary, he didn’t show it.

She wasn’t supposed to pile a lot of information on him. She really was supposed to wait until he questioned things. But she was finding it difficult. Part of her wanted to dump the truth on him and then leave him in the hands of a doctor or nurse.

But he had been there for her the night of prom. He had also been there for her when her father had died. And this was what her father would want for her to do. Because he’d cared about Leon. Leon had always been the son her father had never had. Oftentimes she had felt like she was competing for affection, though she knew her father had loved her, too.

Her father wouldn’t want Leon abandoned right now.

And so she would stay.

And she would do her very best not to upset him.

“I can’t,” he said, standing there still, the shirt clutched tightly in his hand.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m having trouble getting the shirt on. My ribs are too sore.” He held his hand out slightly, the shirt still clutched in his fist. “Can you help me?”

All of the air rushed from her lungs, her heart beating a steady rhythm in her ears. “I—” She was supposed to be his wife. There should be nothing remarkable about the request. There was nothing remarkable about it either way. He was an injured man and he needed help. He didn’t need her to be weird.

She cleared her throat and crossed the space between them, hesitating for a moment before she reached out and took hold of the shirt. Their fingers brushed as he relinquished it to her, and a shiver ran down her spine.

She needed to get a grip.