His grasp on her tightened. “What does it matter? All the years we were apart, I never stopped thinking of you. I hated you for leaving me, Tally—and hated myself for not being able to get over you.”
Tally looked away from him, certain that her heart was going to break. If he couldn’t get over her, how could he have betrayed her with other women? In the endless years since leaving him, she had never even thought of anyone else. She had never betrayed him…
But she had.
Running away had been a kind of betrayal. Even the cold, cleverly worded note she’d left had been a betrayal.
And then there was the cruelest betrayal of all. She’d told him she’d cheated on him with another man, that she’d given birth to that man’s child.
“Tally.” His voice was thick with anguish. “There’s never been anyone but you. You must believe me!”
Slowly she lifted her eyes to his. “What I believe,” she whispered, “is that we’ve both been fools.”
He nodded. She could see color returning to his face.
“Yes. We have been, but we won’t be any longer.” He framed her face with his hands and raised it to his. “I’m not going to lose you again, inamorata. I won’t let it happen.”
Tears gathered on Tally’s lashes. Gently Dante kissed them away. Then he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.
“Let’s go home.”
She smiled. “Yes. Let’s go home.”
He led her past the curious little group that had been watching them, out of the hotel and into his waiting limousine. Part of him wanted to go back to the ballroom, put his hands around Charlotte’s throat and make her pay for what she’d done.
But he was every bit as guilty.
Not for having slept with Charlotte. Tally had been out of his life then. Not even for having not told her about Charlotte. He was a man, not a saint. What man would deliberately tell the woman he cared for that he’d slept with someone else, even if he’d been absolutely free to do so at the time?
He pressed a kiss to Tally’s hair as she sat curled against him, her head on his shoulder.
His guilt was over what he’d done three years ago
.
He’d let Tally slip away. And he should have gone after her. Should have faced what she meant to him because the truth was he didn’t just care for her, he—he—
“Dante?”
Dante cleared his throat. “Yes, cara?”
“I’m sorry.”
“No! It wasn’t your fault.”
“Not about tonight. I’m…I’m sorry for…for—” She took a deep breath and sat up straight, her eyes locked to his. “We need to talk. But not here. Someplace…someplace where we can be alone.”
Suddenly he knew that was what he wanted, too. A quiet place where they could be alone. Where they could talk—and he could finally confront what was in his heart.
“I have an idea,” he said slowly. “Christmas is next week. What if we spend it alone? Just the three of us. You and me and Samantha. We’ll go somewhere warm, where we can lie in the sun in each other’s arms, where Sam can run around to her heart’s content. Would you like that?”
“A place where we can talk,” Tally said softly.
Talk about what had really made her run away, she thought as Dante drew her against him, because tonight, she’d finally faced the truth.
No matter what happened, she had to tell Dante that she loved him.
That there’d never been another man.