Free Having Patience by Debra Glass Page A

from hers.
    “I love you,” he uttered.
    Patience’s lashes fluttered open. Dazed, she stared up at her husband.
    A smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. His eyes blazed almost black. “I love you, Patience.”
    She gaped. All the warmth and desire inside her drained away and in its place, inexplicable panic exploded. She pushed at James’s shoulders. “That wasn’t in the passage. This wasn’t in the passage. Enough. Enough!”
    Stunned, James stared. For the first time in his life, he’d told a woman—his wife—that he loved her…and meant it. Anger flared urging him to show her what it meant to be loved by him but miraculously, intellect prevailed.
    He pushed himself to his knees and did up his breeches as he stood. Patience shoved her wrinkled nightgown back down as she struggled to sit.
    James longed to lash out at her. He ached to dominate her, to show her what being a wife entailed. But instead, he forced himself to breathe.
    “The scene is over,” Patience said as she scrambled to her feet. “I have played my part.”
    Part? Part!
    He snatched her arm and hauled her body against his. “I’ve been more than patient with you but it’s high time you understood that you are not playing a part , my dear. You are my wife and I—”
    Realization consumed him. She’d only grown cold when he’d told her he loved her. Patience did not fear losing her virginity. She feared intimacy. She feared love.
    His fingers loosened on her arm and she seized the opportunity to yank away from him.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
    Hugging her arms, she turned away. God, she was shaking. He felt like an ass. “Patience, you don’t have to be afraid,” he said gently.
    Her head snapped around and she burned a stare into him. “I’m not afraid.”
    He took a deep breath and blew it out. “I think you are. I think you’re afraid of loving me.”
    “That’s ridiculous!” she cried, her voice rising almost hysterically. “I married you. I wouldn’t have married if I didn’t have…if I weren’t…”
    James swallowed. His heart broke for her—for himself. “You can’t even say the word,” he said bleakly.
    “That’s not it,” Patience insisted. She began to pace.
    “Patience, let’s see if we can work through this,” James suggested.
    “There’s nothing to work through!” she wailed.
    He stared. Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps she’d married him out of obligation or because her father had forced her. One thing was obvious. She had not married him out of love. He sighed, resigned. “This farce must stop. Once we produce a male heir, I will trouble you no more.”
    Her lips parted as if she might speak but instead she clamped them shut. She blinked as if trying to combat tears.
    James straightened his clothes before he raked his hand through his hair and started toward the door. He stopped and glanced back at her. “Tomorrow night, I will consummate this marriage. The sooner we produce an heir the better.”
    A chill ripped through Patience as soon as the door closed behind James. A male heir…
    If James died without a son to inherit his title, his estate would be scuttled off to some cousin or nephew—just like her father’s estate would be when he passed away.
    Gut-wrenching guilt consumed Patience. Once again, she was responsible for tragedy, for the loss of wealth and the end of a family name. She gulped but could not stop the sob that tore from her throat or the tears that flowed down her cheeks.
    She stared, hoping he would come back so she could apologize. She needed to change this, to change herself. Her fears were selfish and silly…and so terribly, terribly real.
    But James did not return. She took two faltering steps toward the door intent on going after him but stopped herself. She’d humiliated herself enough for one night.
    Afraid to love him! The very idea. Of course she loved him. She married him.
    She swallowed hard. Was he angry with her because of what they’d just