Their lovemaking wasn’t fierce and hot, or carnal and raw, but slow, careful, tender, so tender that Morgan wept after she climaxed because she’d never felt this way with Drakon before, had never made love with him like this before, their bodies so close, so connected, they’d felt like one.

Afterward, they lay side by side, his body wrapped around hers, his muscular arm holding her close to him, and still they said nothing, because there were no words, at least not the right ones. So much had happened since they’d met. So much love and yet so much loss. So much anger and pain and heartbreak …

But words right now wouldn’t help, words would just get in the way, so they didn’t talk, but instead lay close, filled with emotion, intense emotion that surged and ached and trembled and twisted.

Lying there in the dark, wrapped in Drakon’s warmth and listening to him breathe, Morgan knew these things—she still loved him, deeply, passionately.

She also knew she wouldn’t leave him. Not ever again.

But for them to have a future, they would have to talk more, and they’d need patience, forgiveness, courage and strength.

She knew she was willing to fight for Drakon and her marriage, but there were still things she didn’t understand about Drakon, things she didn’t understand about the past.

And when, a half hour later, he kissed her shoulder but eased away to climb from the bed, she was filled with unease.

Turning over, she watched as he stepped into his cotton pajama pants, settling the drawstring waist low on his hips, leaving that magnificent torso bare. She watched him walk to the French door and push open the curtains. Propping an arm against the glass, he stared out at the sea, which rippled silver with moonlight.

She sat up and wrapped an arm around her knees, pressing the covers closer to her legs. “I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, and how you feel so grateful to Bronwyn for saving your company … and saving you … when you made a mistake and nearly lost everything. But I know you. You don’t make mistakes. What mistake did you make, that could have possibly cost you your company?”

He said nothing right away and Morgan was afraid he wouldn’t speak, but then he shrugged. “I was distracted. Wasn’t focused on work. And suddenly there was no money. No money to pay anybody, no money for taxes, no money at all.”

“How could there be no money? Where did it go?”

Again, another long, excruciating silence. “Bad investments.”

Ice filled her veins and she flashed to her father, and Michael Amery. No … he wouldn’t … not a second time. She held her breath, even as her heart began to race. “You said … bad investments…. plural.” Morgan swallowed around the lump of panic forming in her throat. “Did you mean, investments, plural, or was there just that one horrible, huge loss to my father?”