Page 46 of The Duke's Rebellious Love
With his arms around her still, her head against his chest, their breathing uneven and their clothes mussed, Clara knew she should have been embarrassed, but with Jasper, she never could be. Slowly she lifted her face to receive his warm kiss as he slipped from her and righted her dress. To her surprise, he then lifted her up in his arms and carried her towards the bed in the corner of the chamber.
“You know,” his voice was raspy, heated and laced with a touch of humour, “people generally tup in bed.”
“That is what I have heard,” Clara said as he placed her down upon the coverlet. All she wanted to do was slip beneath the sheets, feel Jasper slide in next to her, and not stir for a good hour. Perhaps they could even barricade the door. She leant back on the pillows and reached out to him, pulling Jasper down next to her. She kissed him, her hands running over his loosened shirt. The feel of his body, heat, and the very scent of him had occupied her mind for so long, and now they were linked. “I love you,” she whispered as she kissed him.
He stilled. And, in that moment, Clara realised her mistake. Immediately she knew her error, and she knew that this was not why he had come to her room—he was not waiting for her to say it first, admit something so she could clear the air—he did not feel that way about her.
Jasper kissed her hair and her forehead and tried to capture her lips. Clara went rigid, and hastily Jasper sat up. There was a shadow on his face as he waited to broach the subject. “What is wrong?” he finally asked.
“If you do not feel that way, why did you come here?”
“I want to marry you.”
“But I made it clear that—”
“We have fucked, so we must marry.”
Watching his face, one that Clara was sure she could paint from memory even if she never saw him again, she saw the truth. She sat up, resisting the temptation to pull the coverlet around her like a shield. Her eyes travelled over to the desk where they’d… “Did you come to my room in the hope that you’d seduce me to your point of view?”
When he didn’t answer, she knew she was right.
“Or rather, you wanted to increase the chance I would be with child.”
“It is not some malicious game.” Woolwich moved around the bed, and hurriedly Clara scrambled off it.
With a sigh, Jasper stood too. He reached the desk and lifted his jacket off the floor where he’d discarded it. “I want to marry you. I wish to be honourable.”
“Which is ironic given the trickery you have engaged in today.”
“I never claimed to be able to love. I am no longer capable of those feelings. But I will care for you. Protect you and honour you. All your worldly needs will be met.” He gave her a wry smile as if there was some humour to be found here. “I would say, if we had fewer arguments and more sexual congress, we might even be happier.”
It might as well have been a slap, Clara thought, fury and disappointment rippling through her. With a shaking hand, she reached down and pulled loose the engagement ring, flinging it at him. “Leave.” At least her voice was steady as she yelled at him. Sucking in a breath, she said with as much dignity as she could muster, “I cannot believe you would try to trick me like that. Leave.”
CHAPTER23
For a moment, Woolwich was tempted to follow her directive and depart. Why could she not see that this was all he could give her? If she knew how dangerous his love was, she would not seek it. However, if Clara could not be made to see sense, then he may as well wait for her to discover if she was enceinte or not. There was an unpleasant twist to his stomach that told Woolwich that this ruthless instinct would not benefit him in the slightest. Nor, apparently, was it at all appealing to Clara’s senses and desires. It baffled him, but stay put, he did.
“I do not wish to lie,” he set about straightening his clothes. He hoped that within the next ten minutes, Clara would be made to see his viewpoint. Then, they might as well go straight to either the archbishop or Gretna, whichever she preferred. “This would be our arrangement. Our marriage should be built on truth. When I married Annabelle—”
“Must you speak of her?” A look of hurt passed over Clara’s face, and Woolwich wished more than anything to replace it with some kind of joy—it just seemed that half the time, he was incapable of doing so.
“Are you jealous?” he asked. If that were the case, he could reassure Clara immediately and let her know there was no need. His affections, or lack thereof, had nothing to do with his dead wife and everything to do with his own character. Clara must be made to see that his faults meant his love was not good, healthy, or wanted. It would not be a benefit to her, and entering into a marriage with those false feelings again was simply unwise.
“I am not jealous, no.” Clara’s face was flush, but she was speaking with a degree of consideration. She was still keeping her distance from him, and the raw anger she had shown earlier had faded. “But I will not compete with a memory.”
“I do not ask you to.”
“By refusing to ever think you might be able to love me, that is precisely what you are doing. The comparison is in there.” She moved forward and touched the side of his head. “Buried in there because you refuse to see what might be between us. I cannot and will not compete with a ghost. Because that is what exists between us at present.”
“I have compromised you twice now. No one in our society will understand your refusal.”
“Well, they have never understood me, so what does it matter?”
“You would risk everything for some flight of fancy?”
“Jasper, you know it is more than that.” Clara gave him a sad, wry smile, her plump cheeks deflated as she sighed. “I did not expect you to be a coward over such matters.”
“I could force you to marry me if I say what occurred here again. One slip may be understandable, twice, though. Will your family be quite so understanding?”
