He ground his teeth and prowled across to the sideboard where he used the tinderbox to light a candle. “No, by God, I haven’t.”
He was almost sorry when the flame flickered into life and illuminated Sally’s expression in its full glory. She looked furious.
Worse, she looked ashamed.
Regret and frustration slammed into him, stole the breath from his lungs. What the hell was going on? He’d clearly been a complete blockhead to imagine that during these incandescent hours, they’d established an understanding.
“Don’t lie.” She folded her arms and surveyed him with angry disbelief.
“I don’t lie.” Ice edged his voice.
She dismissed his statement with a sweeping gesture. “You made a point of singling her out. For pity’s sake, you were at every event we attended. What else is that but the behavior of a suitor?”
He growled deep in his throat. “Of course I was a suitor. I was courting you.”
If he’d hoped his declaration might mollify her, he was to be disappointed. She made a disgusted sound and backed away. After their closeness, her reaction was doubly cruel. When he’d been inside her, he felt like they shared a heartbeat.
She shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”
“Why not? It’s true.” His eyes narrowed as he went on the attack. “And if you’re so bloody convinced that I mean to marry your niece, what in hell do you mean by having your wicked way with me this afternoon?”
Even in the candlelight, he saw the hectic flush that flooded her face. “You…you seduced me.”
He arched his eyebrows and watched her steadily, until her eyes flickered down and she turned her face away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “That wasn’t fair.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
She wrung her hands like a wronged woman in a play. “I can’t explain what came over me. I must have been mad.”
“No more than I.” He shook his head and stepped forward to quiet those nervous hands. His anger receded a little. He hated to see her so tormented. “I wanted you. You wanted me. It’s purely natural that we succumbed to our passion.”
For one charged second, she accepted his touch, and he wondered if everything would be all right. Then she wrenched away. “It might be natural, but it’s wrong.”
“Why the hell is it wrong?”
“Well, let’s start with Meg.” Unshed tears shone in Sally’s eyes as she stared up at him.
He couldn’t help contrasting this stricken creature with the glowing woman who had found her pleasure with him deep inside her. Regret tasted sour in his mouth. He wanted that glowing woman back.
“What about Meg?”
“She’s set her heart on marrying you.”
Charles gave a dismissive snort. “Miss Meg is no more interested in marrying me than I am in marrying her. I’d bore her stiff within a week—if I managed to winkle her out of my stables for a conversation, that is.”
Sally’s jaw set with familiar stubbornness. “You can’t know that she doesn’t want to marry you.”
“Yes, I can.” He bared his teeth in a humorless smile. “She told me.”
Astonishment widened Sally’s eyes. “When?”
“The night you sent us off to the long gallery with matchmaking in mind.” Something that had rankled for days found voice. “Why in Hades did you shove me at your niece when you wanted me for yourself?”
He saw her consider denying his statement, but something in his face must have deterred her from another lie. “You two would be perfect together.”
“We’d be a bloody catastrophe.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Meg knows it. I know it. If you turned your sharp mind to reality instead of whatever damned lunacy is possessing you, you’d know it, too.”
“Meg likes you.”
“I like her, too. But I don’t want to marry her.” His voice turned urgent. He was watching his every hope crumbling to dust in front of him. “I want to marry you. Meg wants me to marry you.”
Anger flared in Sally’s eyes, although he knew her well enough to see that fear fueled much of her temper. “How kind of you both to dispose of my future.”
He ignored the sarcasm and dared a step closer. “I most ardently hope you’ll entrust that future to me, Sally.”
“I know you want to marry Meg,” she said steadily. “I heard you talking to Silas about your proposal.”
He made a frustrated sound. “I was talking about my proposal to you, my sweet henwit. For the tenth time, I don’t want to marry your niece. I want to marry you. Will you marry me, Sally?”
“No.” She stepped away, shaking her head in frantic denial, and this time she couldn’t hide the fright glittering in her eyes. “It’s impossible.”
“Why?” God give him patience. He sucked in a deep breath. “After what just happened, you can’t deny that we’re made for one another.”
He’d known that from the first. Why couldn’t she see that, too?
“My behavior is inexcusable, but what we did hasn’t changed my mind about not marrying again, Sir Charles.” She drew herself up to her full height and responded in a frigid voice. “Your proposal is unwelcome.”
Sir Charles again, was it? He narrowed his eyes, even as his gut cramped in instinctive denial. She couldn’t mean it. He refused to believe her.
This wasn’t the truth. He’d known the truth when she quivered around him in ecstasy, and wrapped him in her arms as if she’d never let him go.
Damn her, she wasn’t going to get away so easily. His tone turned silky. “And what if you bear my child as a result of today’s recklessness?”
* * *
Chapter Twelve
* * *
Could this awful day get any worse? The misery was more excruciating because for that foolish, transfiguring, unforgettable time in his arms, Sally had been happier than she’d ever been in her life.
She bit back a moan when Charles mentioned a baby, even as her hand settled where her crumpled green dress covered her useless womb. He couldn’t know how his questions stabbed at her. He wasn’t a spiteful man, no matter how angry he might be.
With justice.
Her behavior must strike him as capricious to the point of lunacy. She’d tumbled into his arms with no resistance at all, and now, when the harm was well and truly done, she rejected his attempts to restore her honor.
How she regretted succumbing to him. But when he’d kissed her, surprise had caught her defenseless, and all common sense had fled. She’d just wanted and longed. And feared that this might be her only chance to know the touch of the man she loved.
She’d given no consideration to consequences. God forgive her, she hadn’t even spared a thought for Meg.
Although at least it now seemed that Meg didn’t want to marry Sir Charles.
Small consolation when Sally stood before him and denied what she wanted more than anything else in the world.
“You don’t need to sacrifice yourself to save my good name,” she said sourly. “I’m barren. In nearly ten years of marriage, there was no sign of a child.”
He frowned, tucking in his shirt with jerky movements. “Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I want to marry you. I wanted you from the moment I first saw you.”
Oh, if only there was somewhere to run. She loathed seeing how she hurt him. Witnessing his confusion was almost worse than suffering her own. And right now, she felt like her heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces. “I’m sorry. I can’t accept.”
She waited for an explosion of masculine pique. Norwood had loathed her challenging him.
But then Norwood had been a bully, and Charles Kinglake wasn’t.
He spread his hands. “Why?”
She gave a heavy sigh. Surely he could see she was an utterly unsuitable wife for him. It was blatantly and excruciatingly obvious to her. “So many reasons.”
“Name them. You can’t still think Meg and I have some sort of understanding. For God’s sake,
she left us alone here so we could sort out our differences.”
“For which she’s earned a trip home to her parents, after I’ve given her a good scolding,” Sally said bitterly, resenting her niece’s interference in matters that were none of her concern.
“She meant well.”
“And meaning well, she’s caused a complete mess.”
He flinched, and she raised a hand to soothe the sting of her unguarded words, until she recalled touching him wasn’t a good idea.
His wide shoulders rose and fell as he sucked in a deep breath. She could tell he fought to keep his deep voice steady. “Explain to me why you can’t accept my proposal. After what just happened, you’ll never convince me that you don’t want me.”
She’d dearly love to disown her desire, but given how swiftly she’d yielded, she’d look even more ridiculous if she claimed indifference. Although the damage was already done, she hitched her bodice higher in an attempt to bolster her dignity. “I’m too old for you.”
“Tosh. It’s a couple of years.”
“Enough to count.”
“Not with me. Is that the best you can do?”
“And I can’t bear you children.”
The skeptical arch of his dark eyebrows made her want to hit him. “Have you slept with anyone other than your husband?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
He looked stricken. “Who?”
Her lips tightened with impatience. “You, of course.”
His grunt of laughter was unamused. “Of course. Anyone else?”
“Sir Charles—” she began, hard-won composure starting to fray.
“You may as well tell me.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, leaving it even more ruffled. And making him look even more irresistible, curse him. “I know anyway.”
“And just what do you think you know, sir?”
“You were almost innocent in my arms.” His lips curled in a wry smile. “You certainly didn’t act like a woman practiced in the sensual arts.”
Despite everything, his criticism of her performance as a lover made her cringe. “Well, I’m sorry if my inexperience was a problem.”
“There was no problem, my darling.” He reached out briefly to touch her cheek. She told herself to step away, but the gesture’s tenderness kept her unmoving under his hand. “What we did was a revelation. At least for me. I hope it was for you, too.”
Sally bit her lip, wanting to argue, but unable to speak the lie that surely would send him away forever. Although it was kinder to both of them if she sundered this bond now, rather than letting the misery go on and on.
He was close enough for her to catch his scent, a sensual reminder of all the wonderful things he’d done to her, and would never do again. She blinked back searing tears.
The slight smile lingering, he subjected her to a searching look. “I wouldn’t be quite so sure you’re incapable of bearing children. The difficulty may have been Norwood’s.”
“But what if I am barren?” she persisted, beating down the fragile seedling of hope Charles’s words coaxed into the light. It had taken her years to accept she’d never have a baby. She couldn’t survive coming to terms with that disappointment a second time.
Charles shrugged and took her hand. She was so confused and unhappy, she didn’t pull away. She must be strong and send him away, she knew. But his touch made her feel so warm and alive, while life without him promised nothing but eternal arctic cold.
“The title doesn’t end with me. With four married sisters, I have more nephews than I can keep track of. If I have no son to inherit, I can live with that. Perhaps we can adopt needy orphans, or assist with all those nieces and nephews. Or we can just find contentment in each other. Travel. Collect art. Breed dogs.” The smile widened. “I don’t really care, as long as you’re with me.”
“You make it sound so tempting.” Her starving heart longed toward what he said like a man dying of thirst longed for a clear stream. But the sheer power of that longing was enough to show her that she couldn’t accept.
Sally wasn’t just saying no to Charles for his sake, but for her own. She’d been trapped in an unequal marriage. She knew the harrowing price such a marriage demanded.
He frowned. He was smart enough to guess that her reply wasn’t the prelude to acceptance. “Then say yes.”
“I spent nearly ten years with a man who did his best to make me feel inadequate.” When she withdrew her hand, she was surprised it didn’t tremble. “I swore I’d never do that again.”
Anger flashed in Charles’s eyes, made them blaze russet. “I’ll never do that to you.”
She shook her head. “No, I know you wouldn’t. At least not on purpose. But eventually you’ll regret marrying your older, barren wife. And in trying to hide your disappointment with your choice, you’d hurt me more than you would if you showed it openly.”
“That’s the stupidest bloody thing I’ve ever heard.” One large hand made a frustrated gesture. “I wouldn’t be hiding any damned disappointment, because I wouldn’t be feeling it.”
“So you say now.”
He sighed again. She knew he didn’t understand—but then she was older and wiser, which was the problem.
His voice turned low and persuasive. “Sally, I’m not a fickle man. I’ve never before met a woman I want to marry. Now I’ve found you, I won’t give you up lightly.”
She shook her head and backed away until she bumped the table behind her. She started and stumbled, and Charles moved quickly to catch her elbow. “My love, you’re tired and upset. Let’s leave this for now.”
His touch and the gentleness in his voice, worse, the way he called her his love, shuddered through her like a blow. “No,” she said in a choked voice. “You’ve proposed, and I’ve declined. There’s nothing to gain from pursuing this.”
His grip tightened. “I won’t accept that.”
She raised her head and studied his chiseled features. He looked so lost and baffled. “You must.”
His expression turned stern. “So if that’s true and you want nothing more to do with me, why did you give yourself to me?”
The stark question lay between them like a challenge. After what they’d shared, she owed him honesty.
She swallowed. Her throat felt like it was lined with broken glass. It hurt to speak, and her voice emerged low and unsteady. “I think because for a couple of hours, I wanted the dream to come true. It was disgraceful of me, but I’ve been so lonely, and you offered me the chance to discover a pleasure I’d never known.”
Even in the candlelight, she saw him go white. He let her go abruptly, as if she’d burned him.
“So this was nothing more to you than an experiment?” The anger in his voice lacerated her.
He was wrong, so wrong. But if she told him that she’d never felt so close to anyone in her life, and that the thought of never experiencing that closeness again made her want to die, he’d ask her to marry him again. And whatever her aching heart might want, her mind knew that way lay disaster.
Ten years of Norwood’s neglect and contempt had crushed her spirit nearly into the ground. She’d survived. She wouldn’t survive knowing she let Charles down. How could she bear to see him realize that marrying her was a mistake?
She hadn’t loved her husband. She loved Charles. Love made everything worse.
So she stiffened her spine and looked him in the eyes, as difficult as that was. And her voice emerged with only a small wobble. “A very nice experiment.”
“Nice…” He spat the word like a curse. “Sally, I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
He loved her?
She fought against believing him, even as she had to beat back the vow that rose in response to his. “Love…” she whispered.
“Yes, love, Sally.”
She wished he didn’t sound so sure. Every time she thought she’d reached the limits of her endurance, there was something worse to come. She reminded hersel
f again that she wasn’t the right wife for Charles Kinglake.
“Charles…” she said helplessly. Then on a burst of exasperation, “Where the devil is Meg? Surely she can’t mean to leave us here all night.”
When she didn’t respond to his declaration with a declaration of her own, Charles’s expression turned frozen. But God help her, she was familiar enough with strategies for concealing pain to know how he suffered. She reminded herself that he’d suffer worse and longer, if he saddled himself with the wrong wife.
“She said a couple of hours.” He bit out each word. “But it must be getting near midnight.”
“What time is it?”
With an uncharacteristically jerky step, he crossed to pick up his coat and fish out his pocket watch. “A quarter to eight.”
She’d imagined it was later. She felt like she’d lived through an entire lifetime since Meg had stolen away in Charles’s curricle.
“I hope she’s all right.” It was almost a relief to think about Meg, instead of two broken hearts and the desolate future. “What did she say to you about what she planned?”
“Nothing. This prank took me as much by surprise as it did you.” He sent her a grim glance. “And I don’t care whether you believe that. It’s the truth.”
She’d always been conscious of the difference in their ages. But right now, he looked old and tired in a way she’d never seen before. Guilt stabbed her that her sinful weakness for him had brought about this misery.
“Of course I believe you,” she said in a small voice, hating how she hurt him. “I’m sorry, Charles. I’m sorry for everything.”
“So am I.”
His flat tone opened a new rift in her heart. She was under no illusions how the loss of his friendship would devastate her. From the beginning, his companionship had enriched her life. Now she’d lost his regard, and she wanted to sit down and cry like an abandoned child.
“This will probably be our last chance for a private discussion.” Charles still spoke with scrupulous courtesy, so that every word hit her like a bullet. “If there are…consequences from this afternoon, will you tell me?”
Charming Sir Charles (Dashing Widows Book 5) Page 10