“I’m sorry.” His tears had glistened. “I’m so sorry. ”

His betrayal ran so deep, she wanted to die, and at that moment, she’d hated him.

“I had to have a wife if I wanted to be President,” he said. “I’d always been so fond of you, and when your father started pushing us together, I—I—”

“You decided to use me,” she’d murmured. “You knew I’d fallen in love with you, and you used me.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“How could you do it?”

“I want to be President,” he said simply. “And there’d been some whispers.”

She hadn’t heard them. She’d never suspected a thing, not even before their marriage when he’d used the microscopic scrutiny they were receiving from the media as an excuse to postpone making love until they were married.

The morning after his confession she’d fled to Nantucket, where she’d sealed herself in the guest house of her father’s estate and tried to come to terms with what had happened. She’d made up her mind to get a quick divorce. Dennis deserved nothing better.

But every time she picked up the phone to call her attorney, she set it back down. Dennis had betrayed her, but he wasn’t evil. In every other way, he was the most decent man she knew. If she divorced him as he was launching his presidential campaign, she would ruin him. Was that what she wanted?

Part of her craved the revenge she deserved. But she’d never had an appetite for bloodlust, and her stomach rebelled each time she looked at the telephone.

It was Terry who’d finally talked her into continuing with the marriage. Terry, the funny, irreverent man she’d known as Dennis’s oldest friend, had barged into the guest house, poured her a drink, and looked her straight in the eye.

“Don’t divorce him, Nealy. Stick it out. You know there’s not another man running who’ll make as good a President.” His expression had been filled with urgency as he took her hands and squeezed them. “Please, Nealy. He never meant to hurt you. I think he convinced himself he could pull it off and you’d never know.”

“The lies people tell themselves.” She’d walked out on Terry and wandered the beach for hours, but he was still waiting when she returned.

“I’ll give him one term, and then I’m filing for divorce.” Even as she spoke the words, she knew that something was dying inside her, all her romantic dreams.

Terry, who did deadly imitations of their political opponents and loved to laugh, had started to cry. She realized he’d made a devil’s bargain of his own.