Leather & Lark (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #2) (62)

He pulls his hand away as though he’s afraid he overstepped, but that just makes it even worse. Frustrated tears fill my eyes.

“Lark—”

“Why is this so hard?” I blurt out.

Lachlan shakes his head, confusion etched between his brows. “Why is what so hard?”

The first tear breaches my lash line and slides down my cheek toward my trembling lips. Lachlan’s face creases with worry as I lose the battle to hold my emotions back. “You,” I say with a flick of my hand between us as more tears escape my control. “This. It’s so fucking hard. I don’t want to care what you’re doing or where you’re going. It shouldn’t matter to me at all. But it does fucking matter and I don’t know why—”

Lachlan grasps my chin and stares right into me until I press my eyes closed. “Lark,” he whispers. I try to bury the turmoil I feel, but it’s unstoppable, a molten core that churns in the dark. I can feel it in the heat that radiates from my skin, in the hammer of my pulse beneath the finger that Lachlan lets rest against my neck. “Lark, look at me.”

I open my eyes but can’t hold Lachlan’s gaze, not with the heartache and contrition that stare back at me.

“I know this isn’t the type of marriage either of us envisioned for ourselves. I know it’s not … ideal,” he says as he lays his other hand over mine where it rest on my lap, my attention snagging on the simple touch. “But if you’re worried about me stepping out on you and breaking our vows, that’s not me. Doesn’t matter that it’s not a normal marriage. If I make a promise, I keep that promise.”

Lachlan’s thumb slides in a slow arc through the line of tears on my cheek as I take one steady breath in, letting it back out again in a thin stream through pursed lips. It takes more effort than I expect to bury my fears and insecurities and hopes back where they belong. In the shadows. I slip into familiar armor and raise my chin, and when I meet Lachlan’s gaze, he tamps down a half-hearted smile. “I … I don’t really care what you do in your spare time, you know,” I say.

A grin tugs at his lips as his hand falls away from my face, the softness of his touch imprinted in my flesh. “Definitely not, no.”

“And I don’t forgive you.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“If you think you’re going to … sleepmatize me … into forgiving you—”

“I think it’s maybe just hypnotize—”

“—it won’t work. You can’t bribe me with pillows or some shit.”

“I’m not trying to bribe you.” Any hint of levity spirits away from Lachlan’s expression. He leans a little closer and holds my gaze. This time, I don’t look away. “I see how much you’re doing. I know what it’s like to be so busy looking after everyone else that you forget how to look after yourself. You’re going to burn yourself out that way. And I won’t just sit back and watch it happen, Lark. Not if this place is right here, ready to help.”

When he nods in the direction of the ranch, I follow his line of sight, swiping beneath my lashes with the hem of my sleeve. “Okay,” I reply after a long moment. I say it once more and punctuate my declaration with a decisive nod before I finally turn my eyes back to Lachlan. “Thank you.”

He offers a faint smile before he exits the vehicle, grabbing my belongings from the back seat and then a roller bag he packed for me from the trunk. I grumble at him about going through my panties, then about my retainer, and then about panties again, but I can’t help but point out things I like too, from the sprawling log and stone building to Bantam Lake that stretches behind it and the walking paths that snake into the woods.

The staff at the reception desk check me in and describe the amenities and the plan for the next few days, and I feel Lachlan’s focus on me the whole time, his attention unwavering and protective in the periphery. When an attendant takes my luggage and starts to lead the way toward my room, I pause in the center of the lobby and turn to face him. I know I look like shit. My eyes are puffy, my lashes damp with cooling tears, my skin blotchy. But Lachlan looks at me as though I’m beautiful. Like he can’t bear to look away.

“Thank you, Lachlan,” I whisper.

He nods. I should pivot on my heel and walk away and put some space between us.

But I don’t. Not even when Lachlan steps closer.

I stand unmoving in the center of the lobby’s stone floor as though I’ve been carved from it, my expression unsure as Lachlan draws to a halt in front of me. He runs a hand over my hair and gently pulls my head to his chest. “Get some rest,” he whispers in my ear. “See you soon.”

His lips press to my temple in a kiss that lingers just long enough for me to take a deep breath of his scent of leather and amber and mint, and then he lets go. With a final, melancholy smile, he shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and walks away. When he glances over his shoulder, I’m right where he left me, my cheeks flushed and the barest hint of a smile on my lips.

Before it can fade, Lachlan turns away and strides out the doors.





SIGNALS




Lachlan


I slide into the car and grip the steering wheel. One deep breath is all the time I allow myself to take before I key the engine and drive away from Rock Rose Lodge.