It was long past midnight before he made his way to his bedchamber. Veronica’s doors were closed, both the one to the corridor and the one that connected her room to his. He had expected nothing different. But he knew well that she was there. For the first night in so long, she was in the next room. His breathing hitched. He wanted to go to her, to beg her to listen to reason, to beg her to forgive him for that one stupid lie he’d told her about not going to Melissa’s town house that night. The lie he wished like hell he could take back. The lie he’d been telling himself all this time needed no explanation. The lie he’d been a fool to utter in the first place. It seemed idiotic to him now, but somehow, back then, he’d decided telling her about the fake baby would have been worse than the actual truth.

But even if he’d wanted to explain, she’d been too angry and hadn’t given him a chance at the time. Then she’d disappeared to the country in a cloud of fury before he’d had the opportunity to try again. Perhaps he should have written or visited, attempted again to explain…but then he’d been locked in his own fog of disappointment that she would leave him so readily, without even hearing him out. But damn it, she would hear him out now!

Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he stalked to her door. This was it. He would explain it all to her and she’d have no choice but to see reason. He’d apologize. He’d ask for her forgiveness. And then he’d take her into his arms and make love to her. Show her with his fingers, and mouth, and body just what she meant to him. What she’d always meant to him.

Just as his hand reached for the door handle, he let it fall to his side. No. That was not what would happen if he explained himself. He might have made mistakes and had regrets over how he’d handled everything, but it was too late. Too much time had passed. The original argument didn’t even matter any longer. He’d let it all fester for far too long, and he was a fool to think he could change things now. If he made love to her, she’d be doing it out of obligation, not desire. And he could not bear that.

Cursing himself a hundred times, Sebastian turned on his heel and stalked back to his bed. He threw off his robe and slid under the covers. He only had to punch his pillow something like two dozen times before he finally drifted off into a fitful, uneven sleep.

Veronica paced the floor in her bedchamber. The unmistakable sound of Sebastian’s door closing had met her ears minutes ago. She’d stopped, frozen. Her room was as lovely as it had always been. The white bed on a dais in the middle of the space was covered with pristine white sheets and an assortment of fluffy blankets. The huge, downy pillows made her feel as if she was floating on clouds. Vases bearing her favorite lilies were set near the doorway, on the mantel, and on her bedside table. The room had obviously been recently scrubbed with not a fleck of dust present. It smelled like lemon wax and lilies and the drawers were still filled with the lavender sachets that had been there the day she moved in. She hadn’t been able to take them with her when she left, for fear they’d remind her of him.