Chapter 481: When We Get Back

Back then, Nathaniel had encountered no mishaps, and Cecilia had left secretly. Now, blind, he was shocked by her direct declaration of departure. Did she believe his blindness rendered him helpless?

Cecilia, oblivious to his turmoil, lowered her gaze. "Didn't we agree? You promised a divorce. I don't want to be with you."

Nathaniel's grip tightened. Cecilia winced. "It hurts."

He immediately loosened his hold. "No."

"I can offer compensation," Cecilia offered. "I'll help repay your debt—consider it recompense for the car accident." She remembered him shielding her then.

For the first time, he felt his heart truly break. "Who needs your compensation?" he roared, his temper flaring.

"What do you want? Just tell me, as long as I can—"

Before she finished, Nathaniel silenced her with a kiss. Her eyes widened. She struggled, but he was immovable.

Earlier that day, fearing for her safety, Nathaniel had discreetly assigned a bodyguard. He knew Nicholas had met with her.

Cecilia gasped for breath under the kiss. She pounded his shoulders until he relented, allowing her to breathe.

"I want you," he murmured.

He swept her into his arms and carried her into the room. Already frail and exhausted, she was no match for him.

He had acted strangely that day, relentlessly pursuing her despite her protests. Afterward, his shoulders bore bite marks, his back scratches; Cecilia's mouth tasted blood. Perhaps fueled by frustration and sorrow, she had vented her anger upon him.

Nathaniel endured her outburst, holding her close, his fingers gently stroking her back. Exhausted, Cecilia fell asleep in his arms.

She awoke as their family journeyed back to Tudela. "Where are we going?" she asked, gazing at the passing scenery.

"Daltonia Villa," Nathaniel replied, holding her. "I've sent Eli ahead."

Cecilia noticed scratches marring his face. She reached out, feeling ashamed. She'd expected him to rebuff her, but he hadn't.

"Sleep more," he said. "If you're still upset when you wake, you can take it out on me when we get home."

When we get home? She rarely heard such words.

"Nathaniel, do you love me?" she asked.

His throat tightened. "Of course. Deeply."

Amnesia, she mused, was fascinating—to grow fond of someone once intensely disliked.

"But you used to dislike me."

Nathaniel struggled for an explanation. "I don't dislike you, not even a bit."

Leaning against his chest, she heard his steady heartbeat. The clarity of love, and its absence, was undeniable.

She clutched his clothes. "What about your job?"

"I'll find a new one."