Page 41 of One Night of Surrender
Smiling, he tossed the muslin onto the table.“You can leave through the back so no one sees you, and I’ll fetch a hack.First, I’ll inform ‘Mr.Gates’ that you became ill.”
Isabelle giggled as she drew her shirt over her head.Val pulled her breeches up over her legs and gently lifted her down from the table.He started to help her tuck the shirt into the waistband, then withdrew, taking a step back.
“If I start touching you again, I won’t be able to stop.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to,” she said huskily.She wanted him again already and feared she’d want him forever.
He tore his tortured gaze from hers and, turning from her, found his own shirt.Pulling the garment over his head, he cloaked her delightful view.His back was as splendid as his front, from the angles of his shoulder blades to the muscles running down to his backside.Though it was encased in breeches—a marvelously fitting pair that were nearly as snug as buckskins—she could still appreciate the fine curve of him.
When they were both dressed, Val took her hands and kissed the palm of each one.
“Shall we do this again in another ten years?”she quipped.
His winced, his forehead creasing.“Please don’t make me wait that long.”
What did he mean?Was he proposing they continue?That they have an affair?The temptation was great, but she’d meant what she’d told him—she couldn’t become his mistress and then expect to be a headmistress at a school.But what if she was going to run a circulating library instead?
Except you can’t afford a circulating library.
Resisting the urge to stamp her foot in frustration, Isabelle caressed his cheek.“We surrendered to one night.Nothing more.”
Then he said the one thing she’d never imagined.And the one thing she could never say yes to.“Marry me, Isabelle.”
CHAPTER 13
The surprise in Isabelle’s eyes mirrored what Val felt.The proposal had tumbled from his mouth before he could think better of it.Could he?Think better of it?
They were clearly well matched in temperament, wit, and certainly physically.She would not be the kind of wife Louisa had been, of that he was confident.
When she failed to answer, just continued to stare at him as if he’d suggested they fly to the moon, he spoke.“You’re shocked.In truth, I am shocked.Only think of it, Isabelle.We are quite good together, and we could do this every night.”
“You want to marry me so that we may have intercourse whenever we like.”
When she said it like that, in a halting, somewhat disbelieving manner, it sounded less than wonderful.Which was silly.“There are far worse reasons to marry.”
“Yes, there are, and I’ve married for them.”Her eyes dimmed with sadness, and he knew she was going to refuse.“I can’t marry you.You know how I feel about my independence.I surrendered it once, and I won’t do so again, certainly not for the convenience of bed sport.”
“Why did you marry your husband?”
She let out a laugh, but it was dark and hollow.“I married him because my father recommended him, and he was of adequate means to take care of me.He was also kind and well-read, which I appreciated.But I soon learned it was all an act.He was a solitary man with a cool disposition.I’d expected a home and a family, but I got neither.When he died, he left me with enough debt to see me nearly bankrupt—so there was no home—and of course, there were no children.”
He heard the ache in her voice and recalled the way she cared for Barkley’s daughters, and his lungs constricted.“I am not like that.”
“No, I can’t imagine you are,” she said softly, a smile tinged with regret lifting her lips.“But you are still offering a marriage of convenience, and I can’t accept that.Besides, you need an heir, and I almost certainly can’t provide you with one.You must want a child, especially after what happened with your wife.”
She knew.How did she know?Viola had to have told her.What else had she revealed?The pain and fury of being a cuckold was something he’d had to learn to overcome.He hadn’t been a laughingstock exactly, but he’d heard the murmurs and seen the pity.Now, having Isabelle know of it brought the anguish searing back.
“It wasn’t my child.”He barely recognized his own voice, so low and bitterly cold.
Her lips parted.She hadn’t known that part.“Oh, Val.”She stepped toward him, but he didn’t want her comfort.He didn’t want her to bloodyknow.
He backed away.“I think that ruined me for wanting a child, actually.And a wife.You’re quite right to refuse me.”He forced his shoulders to relax, to put on a display of relief.Shouldn’t he feel that way?He no more wanted to marry than she did.She was right—he wanted a convenient shag with the finest lover he’d ever had.
She deserved better than that.
“Wait here, and I’ll fetch Viola and put you both in a hack.”He moved the barrel out of the way and left the brewery room, closing the door behind him.
The tavern was alive with laughter and cheer, but none of it permeated his shell of self-recrimination.He never should have allowed things to progress with Isabelle.They were not careless youths.They knew better.Heknew better.
