Free The Light in the Darkness by Ellen Fisher Page A

of the past few weeks had given way to an unseasonably warm day, almost springlike, and they had made love in the forest atop his fine woolen cloak.
    “A parting of more than a month should have givenyou an opportunity to improve your relationship with your husband.” He glanced at her, a dark, slashing brow quirked. “Or, perhaps, with another man.”
    “Grey!” she protested indignantly, golden brown eyes wide with feigned innocence. “You know there is no one else for me.”
    “Would that you could say those same words to your husband,” Grey remarked dryly.
    She propped herself up on one elbow, covering herself against the chilly breeze with the cloak they had lain on, and stared at him. “Are you feeling guilty, Grey?” She gave him a feline smile. “Could it be that you are developing a conscience?”
    “God save me from that folly, Melissa. Why should I feel guilty for bedding a woman caught in a loveless marriage? If your husband doesn’t have the good sense to make you happy, he should expect you to look elsewhere for your pleasure.”
    But he did not look in her direction. Melissa realized he did indeed feel guilty—not because of her, he never spared a thought for her—but rather because he felt that he was betraying Diana. During lovemaking he was invariably passionate and gentle, if somewhat detached, but afterward his face always took on an expression of self-disgust, as though he were repulsed by his lack of control.
    But today he seemed even more distant than usual. “Something is disturbing you,” she persisted, driven not by sympathy but by her prurient curiosity.
    Grey shot her a level look. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” he said flatly. “I’ve married.”
    Melissa sat up abruptly, staring at him with something like shock. Had Grey somehow fallen in love in a short six weeks? Grey, who was so obsessed with his dead wife? Grey, whose heart had turned to stone so many years before?
    And then she glanced down at her bare breasts, gleaming ivory in the midday sun that filtered through the pine trees, and almost laughed aloud at her absurd thoughts. Of course Grey had not fallen in love. Even Grey could not becallous enough to bring home a woman he loved and hurry to his mistress’s arms the following day.
    Nor was his dark, preoccupied face that of a man in love. She smiled, certain now what must have happened and so relieved that she dared to tease him. “Really, Grey, you should have been more careful. There are ways to avoid such unpleasant consequences, you know.”
    Much to her surprise, he burst out laughing. Rarely had she heard him laugh. At last he stopped, and said, still grinning sardonically, “I’m afraid you have the wrong idea. I haven’t bedded the chit—I wouldn’t bed her for a bloody fortune.”
    “Then why—”
    “Catherine told me to find a wife, someone worthy of the Greyson name,” Grey explained briefly. “I did so.”
    Melissa eyed him, wondering nervously if his new wife would be a rival for his attention. “Someone worthy of the Greyson name?”
    “I should say so,” Grey replied, resembling a wolf as he grinned. “I wed a tavern wench.”
    Melissa could not prevent herself from smiling in relief. “A tavern wench!” she repeated in amused shock. “Grey, how could you do such a thing? My God, what will people say?”
    Grey grinned more widely at her shocked response. It was exactly the sort of reaction he enjoyed provoking. “What they always say, I daresay. That I am quite mad. And I suppose I am.”
    Such a woman as Grey described certainly could be no rival, and the scorn he felt for his new wife was evident in his tone. Melissa’s concern, of course, had only been for herself; the self-loathing that had led Grey to marry someone so far beneath his social station concerned her not at all. Despite their long-term relationship, which had endured off and on for nearly seven years, she had little genuine fondness for Grey, for he was