Carides's Forgotten Wife

by Maisey Yates

  “No. It isn’t. But we do have a second chance. You got another chance to live. You have another chance with Isabella.”

  As she said that, he realized he wanted those things. And along with it, a second chance with her. Though he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask for it.

  And he noticed she hadn’t listed it.

  He had been so determined to try to fix things between them when he couldn’t remember what it was he’d done. But once his sins had come to full, horrifying light, he had given her space.

  He was through with that. He was through with allowing her to sit back and take her time as she decided what to do with him. He had decided.

  He would be the father that Isabella needed. He would withhold nothing from his daughter even with what he remembered.

  And he would be a faithful husband to Rose.

  Those blue eyes that had once looked at him with so much affection were cloudy now. They were guarded. He would not rest until she looked at him the way she once had.

  He was not a man who failed at what he set his mind to.

  * * *

  By dinnertime Isabella was safely in her nursery, but Rose was nowhere to be found. She had spent the past couple of days avoiding him, but he had always imagined that had he looked for her, she would be easy to find. That was not proving to be the case.

  It was eternally frustrating. If he could remember even one thing about her, about the past, then perhaps he might have better luck figuring out where she slipped off to at the estate.

  He closed his eyes, picturing the grounds. He had walked all over them in the weeks since his accident. He had nothing else to do.

  There were great lawns, a maze comprised of hedges and a few little alcoves with benches and flowers.

  Roses.

  There was a rose garden that she went to. It was the garden that her mother had planted when Rose was a little girl. That was where she went.

  He walked straight out of the house and down a winding, narrow path, closed in with foliage on either side. It was…exhilarating to have figured this out. To know something about his wife. To realize that somewhere inside of him he did hold knowledge about her. Thoughts about her. Feelings.

  As frustrating as it was not to be able to connect more dots, knowing this now was a high unlike any he’d experienced in his recent memory.

  Possibly in any memory, but with him it was very hard to say.

  The little alcove came into view, a running fountain, large mature rosebushes that were in bloom. And seated on a carved stone bench in front of a bush with crimson roses was the namesake of the flower itself.

  She looked up when he came into the clearing, a startled expression on her face.

  “I thought I might find you here.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You did?”

  “Yes. I was thinking about you. And where you might be. And I remembered this garden. Your mother planted it for you. After you were born. Roses were her favorite flower, and that’s why she named you Rose. And after she got sick she left this for you.”

  “I didn’t know you… I didn’t know you knew anything about me.”

  He drew closer to her, kneeling down slowly on the ground in front of her, the dew from the grass soaking into his pants. He looked up at her, something about the position familiar, something about the moment echoing in his mind.

  He could see her blue eyes, full of sadness, tears tracking down her cheeks as he looked up at her from his position. Here in this spot. In this very garden.

  He lifted his hand, cupping her cheek, mimicking what he had done back then. He slid his thumb along her cheekbone, his heart pounding hard.

  “This is where you always go when you’re upset.” He didn’t move his hand from her face, and she didn’t pull away.

  She just stared at him, her cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “How do you know that?”

  He never took his eyes from hers. Those eyes. Eyes he had seen just before his accident. The only memory in his mind when he had woken up in the hospital.

  “Prom night,” he said, the words coming at the same time as the memory. Just as it had been back in the nursery.

  “What?”

  “Your prom night.”

  “I didn’t know you remembered that,” she said. “What I mean is… I didn’t even know you remembered that when you…remembered everything else.”

  “I do. Your date stood you up.”

  “My date was a joke to begin with. Nobody wanted to go to the prom with me. I was so weird. And bookish… And afraid of everything.”

  “You don’t seem so scared to me. Not anymore.”

  She turned her face away from his. “I definitely can be,” she said, her voice soft. “I have been. Afraid of my own shadow. You were right when you said I was hiding here.”

  “I was angry when I said that.”

  “Yes. But just because you were angry doesn’t mean you weren’t right.”

  “We all hide,” he said. “We just do it in different ways. I should know.”

  “What else do you remember?” she asked, her tone hopeful.

  “We danced.”

  Those two simple words opened up a torrent of feeling inside of him. They rocked him. Utterly. Completely.

  It was as if the clouds had rolled away revealing an inky, clear evening filled with sparkling stars. And he could see it all clearly.

  More than that. He could feel it.

  He had gone to the rose garden because he knew she would be there. Because he knew that her date hadn’t arrived. And she had been there, crumpled on the bench, sobbing as though her heart was broken.

  He had always seen Rose as a girl. Sweet, young. But when she lifted her head and he saw her tear-streaked face, saw the deep sadness inside of her, he saw something more.

  And when he had lifted her from her seat and pulled her up against his body, leading her into a dance, he had felt something that terrified him. She was a woman. Not a girl anymore. And he could no longer play off the connection that he felt to her.

  Rose. So quiet and serious. Every smile felt earned, every laugh hard-won. And he had lived to earn those things.

  He had lived to make those blue eyes sparkle.

  He had never wanted to make her cry. And he would bet most of his considerable fortune that he had made her cry more tears than almost anyone else on earth.

  “I remember,” he said. “I remember coming here. And I held your hand, and it was so soft. And I pulled you up against me and held you close. And you were so beautiful. You were too young for me. But that didn’t stop me from wanting you.”

  She gasped, pulling away from him.

  “Did that ruin a nice, innocent memory? I have a way of ruining things. I think we’ve proven that.”

  “Nothing is ruined for me,” she said, her tone hushed. “I wanted you, too.”

  “Thank God I didn’t know. I fear I would have taken unforgivable advantage of that. I’m not a good man, Rose.”

  “You are. You are a good man… It’s just that you’ve been hurt…”

  “How do you defend me? Even now, how do you defend me? If anyone has seen absolute proof that nothing in me is good, that everything I am is deceitfully wicked, it’s you. I have been an unfaithful husband. I have been… I have not even been a husband. I was a better friend to you back then.”

  She shook her head. “What do you want me to say, Leon? Do you want me to say that I think you’re terrible? That you’ve hurt me so deeply I don’t know if the wound will ever heal? Do you want me to say that I don’t know if I can ever trust you?”

  “Yes. Yes, because it’s what I deserve.”

  “But I don’t know if it’s true. And I won’t know, unless we try. I won’t know until time pass
es.”

  “Time. Bloody, stupid time. I don’t have any affection for it at all. What has it given me? It has taken more from me, that’s for sure.” He laughed hollowly. “Most people grow better. If my memories are any indication I have done nothing but get much, much worse. Until I became nothing altogether.”

  “That isn’t true. The memory that you’re having now? The memory of my prom night? It’s one of my favorites. Out of all of my memories. And that started out as the worst night… Someone who has the power to take a terrible moment and make it amazing… He can’t be all bad.”

  “Yes, well. While you were wallowing in teenage heartbreak I was imagining pushing your dress up your thighs and burying myself inside of you. And I knew you were a virgin, Rose. I didn’t particularly care one way or the other.”

  “Do you think my imagination was pure?” she asked, raising one eyebrow. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to kiss you.”

  “I wanted to do much more than kiss you,” he ground out.

  “I wouldn’t have said no.”

  “I would’ve hated myself forever.”

  Her father had brought him through the darkest time in his life. Another piece locked into place. Yes, her father had known about Michael. Leon had confided in him one day at the office. That was the beginning of him taking an interest in Leon.

  And he had been the most important person in Leon’s world. Rose was a close second. He’d met her when she was a child, and she had delighted him immediately. Realizing she was a woman had been a problem. That night after her prom, he had gone and found a woman at a bar and exercised his sexual frustration with her. Random hookups to keep himself from making any move toward his mentor’s innocent daughter.

  Because the simple fact was, there was nothing he could offer Rose. She would want love. She would want a husband who could care for her as a husband should. She would want children. He wanted none of those things. He had tried for a family as a young man, and had lost too greatly to ever consider it again.

  Rose was so new. So completely untainted by the world that he didn’t want to touch her with any of his darkness.

  And so he had resisted any pull to her. Any attraction to her. He had buried himself in other women. In alcohol. In all of the usual vices that he used to help himself forget unpleasant feelings.

  But one day, his mentor had called him into his office. And he had told him that he was ill. That he was dying. That there was nothing that could be done. Rose was so young; she had always been so protected. And he felt he had failed her as a father. That he hadn’t been there for her when she needed him. He had expressed deep, terrible regret to Leon. How he had held her at a distance because of the way he had grieved his wife.

  And now, he would never have a real chance to make up for it. He wouldn’t be here when she needed him. He wouldn’t be here to greet any grandchildren.

  He was leaving her, and he wanted to know that she would be cared for.

  That was when he had asked if Leon would marry Rose.

  He closed his eyes. And he was lost in a memory.

  Their wedding day.

  She walked down the aisle toward him, her lithe figure displayed to perfection by her designer wedding gown. He took her hand, her father formally giving her to Leon’s care.

  His throat dried, his heart pounding in his chest. He had spent years denying his forbidden attraction to Rose. Years pretending it didn’t exist. And now here she was, being given to him as a wife. He could do whatever he wanted with her. He could finally give in to the fantasies. To the desires that he had always tried to keep in check.

  And then it was time to kiss her. He pushed back her veil, revealing her face. Those beautiful blue eyes.

  He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, expecting it to be simple. Expecting to maintain control. She was young and inexperienced, and he’d been with more women than he could count.

  But the moment their lips touched, he’d burst into flames.

  He was lost in it. In her taste. In her touch. Lost in a way he couldn’t remember ever being. And something began to swell in his chest. Something began to shift and change.

  And when he had pulled away, he realized he was no freer to have Rose now than he had been before the wedding. That look on her face, that look of sheer joy. Of desire, of… Of love. He could never hope to pay back the wealth that she offered in that look. The deep, rich capacity for caring and emotion that he could see in those beautiful eyes was something he knew he would never be able to match.

  And afterward, Rose had gone to their honeymoon suite. And he had not joined her.

  He had gotten drunk. So drunk that there would be no chance of finding his way to her. So drunk that there would be no chance he would give in and have her in a moment of weakness.

  And she had never come to him. She had never said anything.

  Had never begged him to come to her bed. So he had let himself believe it was for the best. That he was making the right choice.

  It wasn’t until her father had died that he had taken another woman into his bed. He had convinced himself that it was for the best. He had found a brunette. One with dark eyes that would remind him nothing of his wife. But when he had taken her, he hadn’t been able to look at her. He had used her. In addition to betraying his wife he had used the other woman.

  But just as he had done with feelings, just as he had done with all finer emotions, he continued to sear his conscience until it felt nothing. Until picking up another woman was simply a matter of course, and he could no longer feel any guilt over it. Until he could convince himself that it was nothing more than a game. Until he could force the desire he felt for Rose into the background.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” he asked, when the torrent of memories finally stopped flowing so freely.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You wanted me. You wanted a real marriage. After I didn’t come to you on our wedding night why didn’t you say anything to me?”

  She laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “You can honestly ask me that? Remembering my prom night and the way my date stood me up? I waited for you. But you didn’t come. And I would’ve rather died than ask you why. A man should want to be with his wife. She shouldn’t have to beg him.”

  He felt as though he was being torn in two. Regret consumed him. Threatened to overwhelm him completely. The degree to which he had wounded her cut him deeply. The realization of all he had done a destructive force inside of him.

  He could say nothing. He had apologized and apologized. It felt empty. It didn’t feel enough. At every turn there was new evidence of the way he had harmed her. The ways in which he had betrayed her. He had no words. They were empty. They were fruitless. He could remember making her laugh and smile. Saying all the right things to her. But when it came right down to it he had never done the right things.

  He reached up, curving his hand around the back of her head, drawing her down for a kiss. He had no words in him. But he could show her. He could show her what was inside of him.

  And if it burned them both alive, he would happily be consumed in the flames.

  CHAPTER TEN

  HE REMEMBERED.

  Those were the words that echoed in Rose’s mind as she gave herself over to Leon’s kiss.

  He remembered that night. And he had wanted her, too.

  Somehow, in the years in between that dance and this moment here in the garden, things had taken a terrible turn. Or perhaps, the real problem was that wanting wasn’t love. At least, not for a man like Leon. And nothing less than love would ever entice a man to abandon a life of hedonism.

  In many ways, that hurt worse than total indifference.

  She realized then that it had been very easy to imagine that the real issue was that he felt no attraction for her. As pain
ful as that was, she had imagined that one day she could perhaps make him see her as a woman. That all she had to do was change his feelings and he would look away from other women and turn to her forever.

  Now she was faced with the simple truth that he had been attracted to her. It just hadn’t been strong enough. He had been attracted to her, and he had resisted her.

  It made her ache inside. It made her feel hollow.

  But at the same time she wanted to lose herself in this kiss. In this moment. What did it matter what had come before? What did it matter what came after? If she could go back in time to when she was eighteen, sitting here crying, desolate over being abandoned by her date, and grab even one scrap of courage to take hold of what she wanted—to take hold of Leon—she would do it.

  She had lived so quietly. So timidly.

  She had not gone to him on their wedding night and begged for him because she’d been so afraid of rejection. Because she’d been afraid to face the truth outright, and had preferred instead to cling to hope, no matter how small and hazy it might be.

  Where was her reward?

  She didn’t want to live that way anymore. She wanted to mess up her hair, mess up Leon’s suit. She wanted to scream. She wanted to take everything that was on offer and please only herself.

  She wanted to change him inside. To affect the kind of landslide that he had triggered inside of her years ago. To leave him altered, to leave him completely and utterly changed for having touched her.

  She didn’t know if there was anyone in the entire world that was true of. If she had done a single thing to change anyone at all. She was pale, kind of hanging in the background and committed to being inoffensive. Doing her best to keep her head down, doing her best not to be tormented by her peers. Doing her best not to unsettle her father in any way, or cause him any grief.

  She was afraid that if she was too loud, if she laughed too much, she would make him sadder. That she would only make him miss her mother that much more.

  And the one time she had tried to step outside of that, the one time she had accepted a date at school, it had all blown up in her face.