Staring down the hill towards the lights of the town and the shadowy ships anchored off shore, Simon strove to ignore his nagging doubts. When Bethan had protested her innocence, she sounded as if she might be trying to convince herself more than him. “Part of me does, at least—the reasonable part, the fair part. But there’s something else inside of me that’s still bitter and certain of being betrayed again.” Telling her the sordid truth about his marriage had felt as if he were stripping off the hard protective shell he’d worn for so long. When it was gone, he’d stood before her with all his flaws and weaknesses exposed. Yet it had also been like lancing an old corrupted wound, draining off some of the resentment and self-doubt that was slowly poisoning him. He owed Bethan a debt for that and for helping him form an attachment with his daughter. He wished she would let him repay her in the ways he was able, by offering her his protection, his passion and the best of everything his fortune could provide.
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