She went on, spurred by anger and fear. “I am your wife, Sloan. Not a stranger. Not simply your housekeeper or your daughter’s nurse or your political advisor. Your wife. The woman whose body you take so intimately at night. The woman who loves you.”

Sloan recoiled, almost as if she had struck him. The silence between them seemed suddenly deafening.

“What… did you say?”

Her chin rose defiantly as she met his gaze without flinching. “I said, I love you.”

“Dammit…” His curse was low and raw as he stared at her.

It had been an unwise thing to say, Heather thought as she saw the torment on his face. Sloan wasn’t ready to hear admissions of love. His mouth was drawn in a grim line, his eyes bleak.

As if unable to look at her any longer, he shut his eyes. “I warned you.” His voice was tight, knife-edged, but she heard the pain there. “I told you when we married, I wasn’t looking for love.”

Every bleak word dug into her heart. “I know.” He couldn’t let himself be loved. Couldn’t let his emotions be touched. He’d set strict limits on how close he would let her come, and she had crossed that boundary. And yet she couldn’t, wouldn’t back down. Her future, their future, was at stake.

She continued unrelentingly, her quiet voice hoarse. “I am sorry, Sloan … for so many things. I’m sorry that Doe died. I’m sorry that you grieve for her. I’m sorry I can’t offer you comfort. But she is dead. She isn’t coming back. I am your wife now. It’s time you accept it.”

His jaw clenched. The silence drew out, so brittle it had an edge to it. When his eyes opened, Heather knew she had lost. The ice in his look matched the granite set of his features.

“Maybe you are my wife,” he replied grimly, “but you can’t take Doe’s place.”

Without looking at her again, Sloan opened the door, yet her soft sound of distress made him pause. For a moment he stood there, his head bowed, his shoulders rigid.

“I don’t have anything inside left to give you,” he said, his voice raw.

She shivered, feeling the bitter chill of despair.

“Do you hear me? You can keep your love, duchess. I don’t want it.”

He walked out then, leaving her alone with his slumbering daughter.

In the quiet of his bedchamber, Heather brought a trembling hand to her mouth, her lacerated heart aching with the echo of the closing door.

Chapter 15