When Her Death Couldn't Break Him (Cecilia and Nathaniel) novel Chapter 2085

He lifted a hand, the pad of his finger brushing her burning cheek. “You're being terribly unfair.”

“Hmm?”

“You can't stand to be apart from the kids, yet you're perfectly fine leaving me on the sidelines.” He paused, drawing a steadying breath. “Remember, it's you and me for the rest of our lives. Sometimes I feel like I'm dead last in that beautiful heart of yours.”

Only then did it click. Her proud, composed husband was jealous of his own children.

A laugh slipped out before she could suppress it. “Of course, the kids outrank you. I risked my life to bring them into this world.”

Nathaniel's eyes darkened, a storm gathering behind the calm gray.

Cecilia twisted free of Nathaniel's arms and bolted down the hallway, bare feet whispering across the hardwood.

Nathaniel blinked, stunned that she would dare make a break for it, then sprang up and covered the distance in long, powerful strides.

Just as Cecilia reached the bedroom and tried to swing the door shut, Nathaniel planted one hand against the panel, his voice low and teasing. “Why lock me out? Are you really sentencing me to the couch tonight?”

Cecilia frowned, pushing harder on the door. “There are plenty of spare rooms in this house. Pick any one of them.”

She was no match for his effortless strength. With a gentle shove, he slipped inside, scooped her up again, and kicked the door shut behind them.

The latch clicked, the deadbolt turned, and darkness enveloped the room.

Outside, winter wind hissed against the windows, but inside, heat pooled between their bodies.

Morning came in a burst of white light, snow glare slicing through the curtains and painting the room in chilled silver.

Cecilia opened her eyes to find Nathaniel's face less than an inch away. She could count the fine stubble dusting his jaw.

Drowsy curiosity made her trace a finger over that faint roughness, then lower to the soft curve of his lips.

Nathaniel's brows twitched.

His eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep.

“Already awake?” he murmured, drawing her even closer until her breath mingled with his.

“Ease up, Nathaniel. I can't breathe.” Her voice came out in a whisper, pressed tight between them.

He loosened his hold by a fraction, closed his eyes again, and sighed. “Stay. Just a little longer.”

“It's already nine. We really have to get up.”

“Nope.”

Cecilia studied Nathaniel with a puzzled tilt of her head. He had never shown the slightest interest in which dress or coat she bought, yet this morning he fussed over every hanger she touched, as if color and cut were matters of life and death.

Nathaniel's mood darkened by the heartbeat. He gently pried her fingers loose, voice low and flat. “Fine. Go on, then.”

She sensed the heaviness under the words but misread the cause. He just hates it when I leave too quickly. With that familiar assumption, she let the moment pass and walked out.

The bedroom felt even smaller once the door clicked shut behind her. Nathaniel lay staring at the ceiling until the silence felt like a weight on his ribs. Sleep had scattered, and there was no coaxing it back.

He rose, padded through quiet hallways, and stepped onto the veranda. Elena had spirited Jon and Elliot off to Rainsworth Manor at dawn, so the mansion now resembled a museum after hours. It housed every luxury in place with no life in sight.

Boredom arrived like fog. He lifted his phone, thumb hovering, unsure whom to disturb with restlessness he could scarcely name.

The screen suddenly lit, vibration buzzing across his palm.

Darren's name glowed on the caller ID.

“Darren, what's up?” Nathaniel's voice was rough from a night cut short.