Alex’s stunned expression after her outburst was replaced almost instantly by one of relief and puzzlement. ‘I apologise. I should not have said what I did. But you cannot blame me for wondering.’
‘Then don’t. Have you so little faith in me, Alex? After all that has happened between us you have such a high opinion of me you were willing to think I would blithely sleep with another man while thinking of you. That you could even think me capable of such base conduct is...is deplorable. Now I think I should leave.’
‘Not until this is settled between us.’
‘It is settled. There is nothing else to say.’
She tried to walk past him, but his hand reached out and stopped her.
‘Damn you—you cannot do this.’
‘Yes, I can,’ she replied wretchedly, trying not to look at him, at his blazing eyes. He was too powerful, too close and far too masculine. She was fighting tears, struggling to keep her voice under control. His penetrating eyes were reaching into her mind, searching her heart.
Her face was a pale emotionless mask as she turned from him and crossed to the door. She felt a terrible pain inside and tears she was too proud and too angry to shed nearly choked her. She could feel his eyes burning into her. Her heart and mind felt empty, and she was chilled to the bone, and even now, when she was desperate to escape him before she broke down, she had to ask herself why it should hurt so much and to question what was in her heart. She opened the door.
Alex was torn as he watched her. In the beginning he had been driven by lust to possess her. Now he felt a protectiveness so profound that it shook him to the depths of his being and, looking back, the sweet memory of her response to him touched him deeply. She was as open and generous in her lovemaking as she was in every aspect of her life. He could succumb to the temptation of a beautiful woman as easily as the average man, but he had never experienced anything like what he was beginning to feel for this woman.
He could not let her walk out of his life.
‘Marry me, Lydia.’
The three words exploded across the room and hung in the air between them. It was all Lydia could hear. She had not seen the question coming and she gasped with the shock of it, her eyes wide and staring and stunned. ‘What?’ she whispered. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said marry me.’ Even as he repeated the question, Alex couldn’t believe it himself. His resolve not to enter into a marriage with anyone after his one disastrous marriage to Blanche seemed to have gone the same way as his brains, his patience and his self-control. ‘I’m sorry. My proposal seems to have taken you by surprise.’
This was true. In disbelief, very slowly she turned to face him, unaware that on the other side of the partly open door Irene Hilton had appeared out of nowhere, like a spirit materialising from thin air and stopping to take in the proceedings taking place between the occupants in the study.
Shaking her head very slowly, Lydia took a tentative step back to Alex. There came a temptation so powerful as to be almost irresistible, the temptation to accept, to cast herself into his arms and allow herself to be carried away to wherever it was he wanted her to be, without further thought. Yet because of who he was and everything that was happening in her life to hold her back, her pride restrained her on the very edge of yielding.
‘You cannot mean that. You do not know what you are saying. How can you ask me that? How can you be serious?’
‘I have never been more serious in my life.’
‘But you can’t be. You don’t know me—not really.’
‘I know enough—all I need to know.’
‘No, you do not,’ she countered, angry that he was doing this to her when, after much soul searching, she had resolved to end it now. Something had gone dreadfully wrong. Everything was rushing at her too fast, surrounding her in a confusing welter beyond comprehension. Her head spun giddily and she felt faint, but she had to make the effort to get through this.
‘You know what happened in Scotland...with Henry...that I was prepared to marry him—to go with him to America.’
‘It is forgotten.’
‘No,’ she cried in earnest. ‘Not by me. Not by Henry. Don’t you see? Marrying me would destroy your relationship with your sister because you could not hope to keep what happened secret from her. She would be shocked if she knew that not only had I been prepared to marry Henry, but that I had also taken her brother as my lover.’
‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ he uttered fiercely. ‘I love Miranda dearly and the last thing I want is to cause her unhappiness.’
‘I like your sister. I could not bear her hatred. Henry is weak. If you were to make me your wife, how long do you think it would be before it was discovered?’ She sighed, averting her eyes, knowing as she spoke that if she agreed to marry Alex it wasn’t Miranda’s anger, hurt and disappointment she was afraid of, but her own feelings and emotions where he was concerned. ‘Suddenly it all seems so difficult.’
‘It needn’t be. It was not your fault. It can be explained. None of that matters. I cannot, will not, let you go.’
She looked at him standing before her. He looked so cool and so completely self-assured. Why did he want to marry her? Did he need her? He certainly didn’t love her and she wasn’t foolish enough to succumb to that illusion.
‘Yes, you will, because whatever your feelings are where I am concerned, you neither need me nor love me,’ she said, voicing her thoughts aloud. ‘You ask me to marry you as if you are discussing a business arrangement—without feeling or emotion. I am not so naive as to believe the reason you have proposed is because you have suddenly fallen in love with me.’
‘You must know that I have come to have a high regard for you and a strong and very passionate desire and affection for you.’
‘Desire and affection are all very well, Alex, but wonderful as it is, it is not enough—not enough to provoke this absurd compulsion to marry me.’
‘Is it a proper proposal you wish to have? Would you like it if I were to kneel?’ he asked in a demanding voice, annoyed that she was being so obstinate.
‘Certainly not,’ she bit back. ‘It would be quite ridiculous.’
‘Dear God, Lydia,’ he said, thoroughly exasperated, his handsome face working with emotion, for he was not a man who liked to plead. ‘What do you want?’
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I am not marriage material, Alex,’ she said vehemently, desperate for him to understand. ‘I am not of your world. The odds are against us—the obstacles between us unsurmountable. We have been lovers. To believe we could ever be more than that is madness.’
‘I disagree.’
Lydia looked at him. She saw the purposeful gleam in his eyes and drew a swift breath. This had come unexpectedly, taking her wholly by surprise. Of course she could not possibly accept what he was offering. She shied away from delving too deeply into the exact nature of her feelings for Alex. After everything that had happened to her in the past weeks, she had little faith in trying to judge her own emotions. But she did care for him—very much. There was no use denying it.
‘And then there would be the gossip. Would it not concern you to know what others would say and think?’
He cocked a sleek black brow, speaking sardonically. ‘I long since ceased to worry about other people’s opinion of me. And where you are concerned,’ he said on a softer note, a warm intimacy creeping into his voice, and his incredible gaze passing over her in a manner which caused her stomach to quiver despite her resolve to stand firm against him, ‘I would imagine the notoriety of being married to me would generate a great deal of interest among the elite of London society. If nothing else, it would certainly benefit your business.’
Lydia flushed, bristling at the very idea. ‘Don’t be conceited, Alex. I can do without that kind of notoriety. But since you mentioned it, what about my work? As your wife, would I be all
owed to continue?’
‘It can be discussed.’
‘There is nothing to discuss.’
‘I am a wealthy man, Lydia. You would have no need to work.’
‘But I want to work. I happen to like working—I love what I do. For the first time in my life I am independent of others and I am already beginning to enjoy the feeling.’ She was adamant. ‘I will not give it up.’
‘You don’t have to—at least not altogether. Something can be arranged.’
She stared at him in stupefied amazement. ‘Arranged? Oh, no, Alex. I will decide what I will do with my future. It is my life. I do not belong in your world.’ She threw her arms wide to embrace the room. ‘You have all this. I could never be a part of it—or be the wife you would want me to be.’
‘Now it is you who is being absurd. I am just trying to protect you.’
Lydia’s voice was like splintered ice as she straightened her spine. ‘Protection? Is that the only reason you can come up with for asking me to marry you? Or are there other reasons—because you feel sorry for me, perhaps even pity me? Do you honestly believe I am so desperate for a husband that I would say yes to an offer like that?’ Pride caused her to lift her chin and calmly meet his ruthless stare. ‘No, Alex. Absolutely not. I will make my own way. I don’t need anyone else—and I certainly don’t need a husband whose sole reason for marrying me is to protect me, although I cannot imagine from what.’
‘The protection I speak of is the protection of a husband for his wife. I want nothing more than to help you.’
Lydia stepped back. She did not want to hear any more for she could feel her weak woman’s body straining towards him, yearning to give in, to lean against his strong lean body. Her heart contracted with pain. She wanted him so much, more than anything she had known since she had been old enough to understand reason, and yet when she left this house, she would never see him again.
Alex watched her, an ironic twist to his finely chiselled lips in an otherwise expressionless face. He wanted to shake her. Why did she hold herself aloof from him? He believed that behind the bright expression and glib speech about independence the real warm, passionate Lydia who wanted him was still to be found. What was it that had driven the girl he knew away and replaced her with this woman who was determined to keep him at arm’s length?
‘Am I so unattractive a prospect, Lydia, that you prefer to look elsewhere?’
His voice was so cool that she lifted her chin in hot indignation. ‘I believe it is the privilege of a woman to act as she chooses and in this instance I have done so.’
He faced her with challenging eyes. ‘You have made your feelings quite clear—blatantly so. And you are quite right. It is your privilege and prerogative to do as you please.’
Lydia glanced at him with two stormy eyes. ‘I’m glad you finally understand. Since you have done me the honour of asking me to be your wife, I will do you the courtesy of telling you why I have returned your loan and about the person who has invested his money in my business. Perhaps then you will understand one of the reasons why I cannot marry you—and you will be relieved that I turned you down.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why? Tell me.’
‘It is my father.’
Alex was surprised. ‘Your father?’
‘Yes. I did not tell you before because there are unsavoury things about his past I did not wish to discuss with you.’
‘I did not realise you even saw your father.’
‘I haven’t—not since I was a small child. He has only recently come back into my life.’
‘I see. Can I ask where he has been?’
She looked at him directly, having no wish to miss his reaction when she told him. ‘In Australia. He was a convict, Alex—a criminal. He was sent to Australia for seven years for stealing seven shillings to feed himself.’
Alex looked neither shocked nor surprised. He took a moment to digest what she divulged, then he said, ‘I see. What was his profession before he was sentenced?’
‘He was a printer.’
‘A printer turned convict. If he has been in Australia for seven years, where did he get the money to invest in your shop?’
‘After he had served his sentence he remained in Australia. He knew there had been several gold finds so he went to see for himself. He was successful—with gold sitting just beneath the surface. After making his fortune he returned to England. It was because of my father—of my fear of meeting him again—that in foolish desperation I agreed to marry Henry. He was offering to take me away to America—far enough away for me not to have to see him.’
‘I sensed there was something in the past you were running from when we first met. Why did you fear him? Did he do something to hurt you?’
Lydia swallowed hard. ‘He callously abandoned me and my mother to our fate when I was three years old. He caused her so much grief and unhappiness that I told myself I could not forgive him. She tried to get over it—good riddance, she would say—but deep inside her she never did. When things went wrong with Henry, I knew I could not run away any more. But my father—the man I now realise I had no reason to fear, a man who is much debilitated by his years as a convict—is not how I imagined him to be and he is finally to be a part of my life.’
‘Is that what you want?’
‘I knew that if he came back I might stop hating him.’
‘And in doing so you would betray your mother.’
‘Something like that. I thought if I could put as much distance between us I wouldn’t have to face it. So there. Now you know.’
‘And now? You have forgiven him? Can you forgive him for what he did?’
‘I have asked myself this. I have also asked myself if I am responsible for him now. What do I owe him beside the fact that I am alive because of him? But having lived my life with my mother—how she loved me, what she did for me, all that we did together and what I now have—these things have defined me, have made me what I am. I will never change. So you see, Alex, because of the life I have lived and a father who...’ She sighed. ‘Think about it—the daughter of a seamstress and a father who’s an ex-convict... Who am I to think I can move in a society graced by nobility and men of your ilk? I cannot be part of your world, Alex, the kind of world you inhabit. It will always stand between us.’
‘You do me an injustice. I don’t judge people by their parents—my own were not paragons of virtue. Far from it. Had it not been for my grandfather I would not be where I am today.’ The sudden bitterness in his tone caused Lydia to glance at him sharply, but he did not expand on this any further. ‘What you have told me is no cause for shame.’
‘Shame? I don’t feel shame. What I feel as someone who has seen struggle and grinding poverty for as long as I can remember is perhaps sorrow—regret—for the loss of a normal childhood.’
‘Despite how we are now, we are not so different, you and I. We have more in common than you realise,’ he told her obliquely.
Alex understood more than she comprehended the nature of her struggle and what forces within her held the world at bay while she concentrated all her efforts of succeeding in what she wanted to do. Yes, he understood this in an intellectual sense. It was the emotional sense he was finding difficult to process.
‘No one can go back into the past to make things different however deeply ingrained it is in us. But we cannot allow our past to become a barrier to the future.’
‘That is not what I am doing,’ she protested.
‘No?’
‘No. How would you know that?’
Alex could tell from her voice that a tightness had come into her throat. As guarded as she was, there were moments when they were together that she would let her feelings escape. This was one of them.
‘Because I recognise in you something that is also in myself.’
She shook her head in a fierce
movement, as if to quell the weakening emotion that was rising within her and to negate all that was left unspoken between them. ‘Forgive me if I don’t believe that. How could you possibly? Now please excuse me. There is nothing more to be said. I would like to leave.’
She turned from him, but Alex reached out and gripped her arm, moving closer, his mouth tightening, determined not to let what was between them end like this. He towered over her, his face dark and threatening, his overpowering physical presence and his intention catching Lydia off guard.
‘Before you go, tell me that this is what you truly really want—for our ways to part, never to see each other again?’
‘Yes, it is,’ she replied, her heart beginning to beat frantically as she tried avoiding his shrewd, penetrating eyes.
‘Then dare to look me in the eye and tell me,’ he demanded, looking at her, the sunlight slanting through the window, bathing her in light, her heavy mass of black hair beneath her hat accentuating the almost transparent whiteness of her face. Her eyes were large, dark and impelling, drawing him in.
‘Yes,’ she said at last, reluctantly. ‘It is what I want.’
‘And tell me that you don’t want me to touch you, to kiss you ever again. You see, Lydia, I know how easy it is to make you forget everything, to make you behave with such wanton abandon.’
Before Lydia could protest, Alex dragged her against his chest, his hands unyielding as his mouth swooped savagely down on hers. A fierce, silent, merciless struggle went on inside Lydia as she tried to free herself, but Alex was in full possession of his strength and she felt herself weakening slowly, knowing she could not hold out against him as a blaze of excitement leapt through her, her reaction a purely primitive one.
Avidly, like a man starving, Alex crushed his lips over hers. It was a kiss that devoured them, setting them both aflame, and he felt her trembling with helpless surrender against him, the heat from her scented body acting like a drug to his senses.
Lydia could feel the heat and vibrancy of his body with every sinew pressed against hers. She couldn’t breathe and was unable to resist temptation. She responded eagerly, pressing against him, the woman in her reaching out to the male in him. She forgot everything as his hand left her waist to cup the gentle fullness of her breast, before rising and stroking the back of her neck, sweeping her whole body in one long, shuddering caress.
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