He had lost his wife. If not for Shayleiah, he may have wished never to have found that happiness at all if it would have meant having it torn from him. And it was no secret that he blamed himself for Melinda’s death or how unhappy she had been those years with him.
He was glaring at her with that exquisite golden gaze by the time she was finishing her retort. Anger looked good on him, crassly brushing aside that polished exterior he did so well to maintain. When she got him worked up enough it didn’t matter that she was a Queen. He didn’t give a damn that the consequences to snapping at her could have been dire. It was a rare thing, but she was right that it was becoming all too frequent lately
“Because you are infuriating.” It was clipped but quiet, gravel in the words. The uncertainty when she took his hands was easy to read. A quick tension shot through them, a moment of indecision whether to pull away or hold her in turn. In the end his hands did close over hers, his skin characteristically warmer than most, but it was only to push them away from him.
“You act as if I am already your enemy. You say you care for me but not for my opinions. What do you expect, Sidonie? I have to be the one to say no. One of us does. You cannot come to love these men through sheer force of will. You do not love someone because you want to. No more than you can wish it away.”