But, for a reason she couldn't understand if her very existence was at stake, Antonin continued to hold her, whispering nonsense words about how relieved he was to see her in a thick, emotional tone that didn't sound the least bit like the man she knew. Where was his rage? Where were the curses he liked to throw? His hands were gentle with her, nothing like they'd been before. Not once did he grip her arms painfully or crack the back of his palm against her mouth. Had so much about her husband changed in her long absence?