Page 71 of What a Scot Wants
“Ye didnae have friends? Other young ladies?” he asked, the image of a young, precocious Imogen coming to mind that was at distinct odds with the Imogen he knew. It was strange. He’d never thought of her as a child, but if he had to imagine her, he would have thought she would have been covered in dirt with a mischievous grin on her face. More like Rory.
“No. I was shy,” Imogen explained. “I was too…proper. Too grown-up. Too much of a hoity-toity toff, the other girls used to say. And they hated the fact that I had such a large dowry. They felt it detracted from them, you see.”
At her bitter tone, Ronan felt the urge to make her smile. “Ye? Shy?Proper?Are we talking about the same hoyden I’ve come to know? Surely ye jest.”
She didn’t smile, but a smidge of humor sparked in her eyes. “I can see how you would be misled, given the various and admittedly hoydenish sides of me you’ve seen, but it’s the truth. I was an odd duck.” Imogen took a sip from her glass and licked her lips, her voice dimming to near-inaudible levels. “It was all my fault.”
Ronan frowned. “What was yer fault?”
“Attracting a man like Silas.”
His fingers tightened on his own glass, but he let her speak. She was finally talking, finally trusting him enough to confide in him, and he didn’t want her to stop. “I should have seen through his lies, but I was so defiant, soproudto be going against Society norm by marrying a man beneath my station. So many people told me he was wrong for me, but I wouldn’t listen. I thought them all snobbish and arrogant.”
“Ye were young and thought yerself in love,” he said gently. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed by someone you were ready to commit your life to. “If anyone should have kenned better, it was him. He took advantage of his position with yer father and his standing with ye. He’s a fortune hunter, a scoundrel of the worst sort.”
“I know,” she whispered. “And when I discovered the truth, it was too late.”
Ronan’s heart dropped to his toes at the look of dejection and pain on her expression. “But Lord Kincaid doesnae ken the truth, I take it.”
Why, he wondered. To protect her dead governess’s reputation? Shutters descended, and Imogen’s eyes went blank. With a huff, she drained the rest of her brandy.
“No. Silas left, and that was all I cared about at the time.” She drew a short breath. “And now he’s back.”
Ronan poured her another brandy, his anger underscored by shared empathy, though it didn’t erase what had happened earlier and the scene he’d walked in on. Calder would pay for that one day. “Did he frighten ye tonight? Make unwelcome advances to ye?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.”
He smiled. “I ken that. But ye dunnae have to be strong every minute of every day, Imogen. Sometimes, ye can share the burden with someone else. Sometimes ye can just let go and ken that someone will catch ye if ye fall.”
“Someone like you?”
Her eyes met his, so much emotion churning in them. Anger, despair, sadness. A fragile shimmer of hope. Ronan placed his glass down and knelt beside her chair. He put her tumbler aside and grasped her cold hand in his.
“I can be. If ye’ll have me.”
“Ronan, you don’t know what you’re asking,” she said in an agonized whisper, attempting to pull her fingers from his, but he held fast. “What you see isnotwho I am. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m…broken. I’m beyond repair for any man.”
He grazed her cheekbone with his knuckles. “Because one good-for-nothing man took advantage of yer heart and broke it? Because of one humiliation? Nae, Imogen, ye’re no’ beyond repair. No’ for me.”
“You can’tfixme, Ronan. Run now, while you have the chance.” Imogen’s lip wobbled as she swallowed hard and shook her head, tears leaking from her eyes. “If you want me to break off the betrothal, then fine, I will. Ido. You’re free of it, of me.”
Ronan lifted her hand to his lips, smiling against her smooth, soft skin. His decision felt right. In fact, nothing had ever felt so right. “Nae. I refuse.”
“What are you refusing?” she asked.
He grinned up at her. “If ye think I’ll let you get rid of me so easily, Lady Imogen, ye’ve sorely underestimated yer opponent.”
“I thought that was the goal,” she said with a sniff. “To chase each other away.”
“Well, lass, I’ve changed my mind.”
She drew a shaky breath. “Why?”
“Because I dunnae want to be free of ye.”
Chapter Nineteen
Imogen felt the intense burn of that blue stare, felt it surround and envelop her. And she felt warmed. Protected. For once, she wanted to bask in it and pretend it was real. Pretend there were no Silas Calders and no Lady Reids, that there was only just the two of them…Ronan kneeling before her and kissing her hand like a suitor of old. Telling her he wanted her. Maybe it would become more, someday. But for now, she could bask in what it meant to be desired. She wondered what life would have been like if she’d met him as a girl.
