Chapter 47

• He couldn’t do that to Anna. Not to his beautiful Anna. And not to his child, either.
• “You can’t love me, because I have nothing to give you, Anna,” He tried to sound level. “I don’t love you.” Another woman would perhaps have collapsed in floods of tears, or run from the room. Or turned her back on him and pretended nothing was wrong. Women had all done that to him at various stages. But Anna did none of those things.
• She stepped away from the vanity and strode up to him, the material of her gown shimmering in the light. The look on her face blazed with something fierce, and a deep part of him gloried in how magnificent she was in this moment, even as another part killed that feeling stone dead.