Page 61 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Her heart ached for him, and that tempered her rage. Hannah put both hands on either side of his face, kissing him gently. While her body carried a myriad of healed scars, his wounds were still bleeding beneath the surface.
‘Killian, you cannot possibly carry the weight of so much blame. What happened in that horrible war resulted from stupid,powerful men making bad decisions. You are one person who did the very best he could in an impossible situation. You are the man of honour your father raised.’
He covered her hands with his. ‘My father loved my mother with his entire soul. He taught me to treat women with respect above all else. Don’t you understand that’s why I am making this proposal? What kind of blackguard would I be to ruin you and not offer marriage?’
Something fragile and bright broke within Hannah. She let her hands drop and sat back on her heels. ‘Ruin me? Because all that makes me worthy is my maidenhead? Do you truly believe that?’
He didn’t say anything. But he also looked away from her. Unable to refute her words.
Hannah shook her head. ‘And you wonder why I think you’re an idiot. By not making this ridiculous offer, you would be the kind of man who understands you did nothing to me I didn’t allow. You would be the kind of man who knows marriage offered from obligation does not honour your parents’ memory. It does not honour me. What would your parents think about you marrying the bastard daughter of a hired mistress? A woman who pays her way in blood? A woman you only offered to marry because of a misguided understanding of valour?’
He threw back the covers, stood up, and walked to the mantle where the fire had burned down to coals. Hannah tried to memorise the curves and lines of his body. This might be her last chance to see him naked. Her last chance to see him so vulnerable.
‘They would understand that sometimes we make sacrifices for the greater good. You are not the duchess they would have chosen, but neither am I their honourable son if I abandon you.’ Desperation roughened his voice, but she no longer cared. Hiswords fell like stones, each one breaking something new within her. He was decimating her with every syllable.
Because he was the duke she would have chosen. Not despite his flaws, but because of them. She wanted to marry him not for honour, or obligation, or some fucked up perspective on propriety. She wanted to marry him because she wanted him in her life, every moment of every day. She wanted to marry him because he understood the darkness inside of her, and she understood his. She wanted to marry him because she loved him.
But he didn’t love her.
He was offering for her out of guilt and obligation. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
She blinked back sudden tears. ‘I am not the duchess they would have wanted, but you’re willing to overlook that to redeem yourself? You would make the sacrifice of marrying me to preserve the greater good of your own honour? Heavens, how could I possibly refuse such a romantic offer?’
‘Marriage isn’t about romance.’
‘Well it bloody well should be! You are missing the point, Killian. A marriage forced upon us by duty and regret over one night of passion would destroy everything good between us.’ Hannah’s voice broke, and she hated the weakness. She wanted him to see the ugliness of his proposal. The brutal betrayal this was to her and what they had shared.
Killian flinched. He ran his hand through his black curls, his bicep flexing. ‘I am trying to redeem myself. How can I do that by becoming a feckless rogue? By taking your innocence and abandoning you?’
Hannah laughed, though nothing about this conversation was funny. ‘I’ve never been innocent, Killian. And your proposal is hardly honourable. If the beauty we shared together tonight ruins me in your eyes unless we marry, then consider me utterly ruined.I am certainly not duchess material. And I refuse to marry any man who is only asking for my hand in order to ensure his own honour.’ She struggled for breath and battled back the tears.
Killian stood frozen, like a stone carving of a tortured god. ‘What choice do you give me in this? I will not be a worthless rake, but you won’t marry me!’ he roared.
‘No. I won’t. Because I have a much higher estimation of my worth than a sullied woman who needs to be saved,’ Hannah threw back. Fighting was so much easier than acknowledging her pain. ‘This proposal mocks what marriage should be. What your parents’ marriage exemplified. It will only breed hatred and contempt between us. I asked you for tonight. You gave me this gift. Let’s leave it at that.’
Killian laughed harshly. ‘So, I just walk away?’
Hannah’s heart shattered.No. You stay. Forever. You marry me because you want me, and I want you and society and its expectations can go hang. You marry me for love, not this twisted version of nobility.‘Yes. I think that’s the only way forward.’
His shirt was still on the floor next to the chair. He walked to it, picked it up, and pulled it over his head. With an economy of movement highlighting his physical prowess, he collected the rest of his clothes and dressed in silence. Hannah should have re-donned her nightgown but couldn’t bring herself to move from the bed.
Killian looked at her. The wind had picked up, wailing through the trees in a melancholy lament. ‘Good night.’
There was so much she wanted to say. ‘I won’t forget this night, Killian. Or you.’
He smiled, but his eyes stayed distant. ‘Liar.’
Killian turned, opened the door, and slipped into the hallway. The door closed with a quiet click.
Killian woke up too early. He wanted to remain in a state of unconsciousness indefinitely, but fate and the bloody footman had other plans. The insidious man knocked at seven in the morning, holding a silver tray with a letter sitting in the centre. Killian swiped the letter and slammed the door before returning to his bed.
The previous night went horribly wrong. First, it was indescribably perfect, then it was a living nightmare. And he was entirely to blame.
Insufferable idiot! She shared her deepest secret with me, and I fucked everything up.
Why did he make his proposal about obligation?
Because I’m too scared to make it about love.
