Page 80 of My Wicked Earl
“Yes. So much so that I continue to make a fool out of myself.”
His hand moved from the side of her breast to thread through her hair to the back of her head. “In spite of everything.”
Again, Colin referred to something she had done, some error in judgement, perhaps. “In spite of everything?”
He stepped back. “I’ll not lie and say I don’t care for you, but-” He shook his head.
Miranda pushed back the pain his words caused. Had she thought he would say anything different? What an unmitigated ass he was. “The words of a gypsy and your mother’s own coldness mean more to you than I do. They always did.”
A hiss escaped his lips at the mention of the Mad Countess.
“Why,” he snapped, all control gone, “must you pretend? Why can you not admit what you did?” His voice lowered to a ragged whisper. “I wish to forgive you, Miranda. Ineedto forgive you.”
“Since I continue to remain ignorant, will you not at least tell me of my transgressions?” Miranda’s anger matched his own. If I am to beg,” she snarled back, confused and hurt, “for forgiveness, I would at least know the reason.”
Colin’s lips drew tight and he shook his head.
“You would parade your suitable heiresses in front of me as punishment and not at least tell me what I am being punished for? You would kiss me, hold me, and then marry another?” Her breath hitched as she spoke. “And you cannot even say why?” She balled her hand into a fist and struck Colin in the middle of his chest.
“Coward. You are a bloody coward.”
He caught her hand as she made to hit him again. “Enough, Miranda.”
Wrenching violently away from him she spun, her hair flying about her shoulders.
One of the diamond clips flew out of her hair to land in a nearby rose bush.
Damn him.
“Iam your bloody heiress, Colin.Me.” Miranda lifted her chin. “You would rather marry the likes of Lady Helen than admit to it? After you ruined me?”
“You wished to be ruined. Youbeggedme as I recall and came to my room in the middle of the night. Crawled into my bed. What should I have done?”
Anger and pain, the likes of which Miranda had never felt, coursed through her. And shame. Shame that she had once behaved so wantonly. That the most beautiful moment of her life meant nothing to him.
She slapped him, hard, the sound cracking through the silence of the garden like the shot of a pistol.
“You cold,unfeelingbastard. Go on. Go back to Runshaw Park. Marry the beautiful Lady Helen and have your marriage of convenience. Live your life alone. You aren’t capable of love, nor do you value the emotion. Whatever it is you accuse me of, Colin, I’ve no doubt you deserved it.”
Colin’s eyes widened in surprise as her words hit home. He shook his head, backing away from her with a deep gasping breath as if she’d punched him in the gut. Desolation flickered across his beautiful face, and anguish so deep that Miranda nearly felt sorry for him.
Almost.
He took a deep ragged breath and turned from her. When he faced her again, the coldly polite mask he’d worn since his return to London had dropped back over his features.
“This conversation is over. You are overwrought.” The clipped words were full of icy disdain. He turned his back, dismissing her. The crunch of his boots filled the air as he began to walk back to the house.
Howdarehe dismiss her. To leave her alone and bleeding from the wounds he inflicted.
“You were right years ago, Lord Kilmaire,” she said to his retreating figure, wanting to hurt him. “You don’tbloodydeserve me. In the future, I will thank you not to disturb me when I am taking air with my future husband.”
Colin halted at the mention of Ridley, and Miranda silently begged him to come back to her.
He did not.
A lone tear slid down her cheek as he resumed walking, his steps echoing in the silence of the garden.
Miranda fell to her knees, unmindful of the sharp stones that tore at her hands and gown. A deep mournful sob left her throat as she stared at the gravel of the path, her heart refusing to accept the inevitable.
