Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

I tried to wait up for Cassio, but eventually I drifted off, awkwardly curled up in
the armchair in front of the fireplace.
I wasn’t sure what time it was when cold hands touched my arm, jerking me
out of my slumber. It was dark in the room except for the dying embers in the
hearth dancing before my tired eyes. Cassio hovered over me, smelling of
gunpowder, smoke, and whisky. “I told you not to wait for me.”
“What time is it?” I slurred, my tongue and muscles heavy.
“Late.”
I tried to make out Cassio’s face to connect the tense note in his voice to his
expression, but the darkness concealed his features. Reaching out, I touched his
arm. The crisp fabric of his shirt stuck to his skin. It was stiff against my
fingertips, crusted with something. Cassio pulled out of my grasp with a sharp
intake.
I was momentarily wide awake. “Cassio?”
I sat up and Cassio took a step back from me, out of my reach. “Go to bed,
Giulia. Now.”
I stood, moving toward him. The dying embers didn’t give off enough light
to see much, but part of his white shirt was dark. “What happened? Are you
hurt?”
“Giulia, to bed. Now.”
“No. I’m not a child, I’m your wife, and I’m not going anywhere until I
know you’re fine.”
“Your insolence is driving me to the brink.”
“I think you like my insolence.”
He sighed and walked out. I followed after him. The foyer was dark too. My
worry increased with every step and Cassio’s continued silence. When we finally
arrived in our bedroom, I turned on the light switch. My heart dropped, seeing
the blood on Cassio’s white shirt. Most of it had dried, only a small splotch on
his arm looked fresher. Cassio continued into the bathroom without a word, but
his expression conveyed his disapproval as I followed. “What happened?”
Cassio unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, but one of his sleeves stuck
to his arm. I cringed when I saw the wound it was stuck to. I grabbed a towel and
dabbed it into warm water then pushed Cassio’s hand away. I soaked the bloody
material of his sleeve, waiting for it to become unstuck from the long cut so
there wouldn’t be further damage.
Cassio watched me almost curiously, no sign that someone had obviously
used his forearm as a cutting board. I carefully unfastened his shirt, and Cassio
gave the slightest twitch but didn’t make a sound. “Not your first rodeo, hmm?” I
needed to make light of the situation before my worry for my husband drove me