The Proposition Part 6

"No," she supplied readily, shaking her head and absently making little pleats in her skirt.

"Do you love him at all?"

She looked away and sighed softly. "I definitely recall that we agreed not to talk about Lawrence."

Frustration melded into anger. "I agreed for the sake of placating you," he countered, his blood mercifully warming. "And in the hope that by today he'd be nothing more than a man who had to be told he'd lost his bride. But since he's not, then, by G.o.d, I'm not going to pretend that he doesn't exist. Answer the question, Julia. Do you love him at all?"

"I've grown fond of him," she said with a little shrug, still refusing to meet his gaze. "He's . . . he's .. ."

"Dead from the neck down," Rennick supplied sardonically.

Her gaze snapped to his, her chin came up, and her hands went to her hips. "As opposed to you," she countered firmly, "who's dead from the waist up."

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, wishing she could feel the sharp pain twisting in the center of his chest.

She closed her eyes and sighed. After a long moment, her shoulders sagged and her hands slipped down to her sides. "Rennick," she said softly, her eyes still closed, "I have known you for a little less than half of my life. And throughout that time I have watched you blithely seduce an untold number of women. For you, it's sport."

It had been. He'd admit that freely. But the instant that he'd learned she was free- "The greater the risks, the more irresistible you find the challenge." She sighed again and opened her eyes. "You've been gone the last three years because you couldn't resist seducing the wife of a man renowned for his jealousy and quick temper. You're incredibly lucky that he missed you and you only wounded him."

"I didn't seduce Giles's wife, did I?" he asked, struggling to contain the panic beginning to claw at his chest. "Have you ever wondered why?" He didn't give her a chance to answer. "Because I've always wanted to marry you, Julia. From the moment I first looked into your eyes that winter day thirteen years ago. And as low and despicable as it may be, I knew that someday Giles would be gone, that you'd be free, and that if I were patient, I could have you."

"And your fantasy has come to pa.s.s," she said quietly, attempting to smile. "You've had me. Now it's time for you to move on to another."

G.o.d, what mistake had he made in the last three days? What hadn't he done that he should have? How could this be going so terribly, nightmarishly wrong? How could she be so utterly determined to throw away their love and happiness?

"I don't want another," he a.s.sured her, pouring his heart into his words. "All the women who pa.s.sed through my bed between the day I met you and the day I read your banns were nothing more than distractions. Very necessary distractions, Julia. I won't tell you that they were completely meaningless because they weren't. When I closed my eyes, they became you. If I hadn't had them, I'd have destroyed your marriage."

"In other words, you were being gallant in bedding half of England's females."

The reality sank slowly, painfully, into his brain; he was d.a.m.ned any way he went. "Julia, don't do this to us," he pleaded, raking his fingers through his hair. "We're so very good together. You can't honestly tell me that you haven't been happy the last three days."

"Happier than I've ever been in my life," Julia admitted freely, her heart breaking.

"Then why do you want to leave me?" he asked, the pain shimmering in his eyes. "Why are you still committed to marrying Morris?"

Her courage ebbed away. She couldn't bring herself to be honest with him, couldn't add to the hurt she'd already caused. It had been a terrible mistake to come away with him. "He's a good, honest man, Rennick," she offered, desperately searching for a way out that allowed her to protect his heart. "Giles put the management of the estate in his hands until Christopher comes of age."

"Did Giles hand you over with the ledgers?" There was an edge of anger in his voice and she found a small measure of comfort in it. "No. Of course not."

"Then why him, Julia?"

"He's very active with social causes and various charities."

"So am I," he countered. "Would you like to compare our lists and the size of our annual contributions?"

She shook her head and swallowed down her tears. He wasn't going to give up. He was going to keep

pressing until she had no choice but to tell him the truth.

"Perhaps you'd like to compare our bank accounts. I'll guarantee you that mine has more in it than his does. And when it comes to t.i.tles, I'll remind you that an earl trumps a knight of the realm in any game."

"It's not about money or t.i.tles or-"

"Then what is it about? Give me an honest answer, dammit! You owe me that much."

Yes, she did. Her knees shaking, her heart in her throat, she faced him, squarely meeting his angry gaze.

"Because I'll never love him the way I do you," she confessed. "And because he isn't you, Rennick. He'll never even notice that another woman exists and he'll certainly never have an affair or leave me for another. He'll never break my heart."

"And you think that I will?" he asked, clearly stunned. "I know you will," she said as gently as she could. "Not out of malice, but simply because you won't be able to resist the temptation of a challenge. And I'd rather choose the time and place and the depth of my heartache than leave the choosing to you. It's been hard enough to watch other women go into your arms over the years and wishing-G.o.d forgive me-that it could be me. Watching them as your wife would be infinitely more painful. I couldn't endure it." She saw him swallow, saw pain and confusion and desperation flicker across his features. And she saw him make a decision in the half-second before he turned on his heel and strode to the bedside table. He took something from the drawer and then turned and came toward her, his jaw set, the light in his eyes dark and resolved.

He held out his hand, palm up, saying crisply, "Take this."

"Rennick!" she gasped, taking a half-step back as she stared in horror at the little pistol.

Refusing to allow her to retreat, he s.n.a.t.c.hed her right hand, pulled it up between them and slapped the

weapon into it. She tried to pull back, to drop it, but he wrapped her hand in both of his and pulled it

hard against the center of his chest.

"I swear to you, Julia," he said, the muzzle of the gun pressed to his heart. "If you ever think that I'm having an affair, you can hold it right here and pull the trigger. I'll let you without a fight."

"No," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I could never do it. I love you too much." Gently, calmly, he replied, "Then marry me, Julia. Please."

"I need to go home," she declared, choking back a sob and pulling her hand free from his grasp. Stepping around him, she dragged a breath into her burning lungs, summoned what she could of her dignity and poise, and moved toward the door connecting their rooms while saying, "Emma is due in on the train this afternoon. Christopher will be down from Eton by nightfall."

"Is Morris the stepfather they want?" he asked from the far side of the room.

She stopped in the doorway, knowing that she didn't have the strength to look back at him but also knowing that she couldn't walk away and leave him with unanswered questions. "No, you are. They've both made themselves very clear on that."

"Then marry me if for no other reason than the sake of your children's happiness," he posed, nearer this time. "We can grow a true marriage from that seed. It'll be enough."

For how long, Rennick? If only she believed it would be for ever. "My son is largely gone from home already and my daughter will follow him off into her own life in a few short years. And I won't have them looking back, seeing my heartache and regret, and feeling guilty for the choice I made in their behalf."

"Then think of poor Morris," he countered, nearer still. "How do you think he's going to feel when he realizes that he's married to a woman who's in love with another man? How can you be so cruel to him?"

He'd reached the end of his hope if he was using Lawrence's feelings as a ploy. Julia smiled in weak relief. "The only thing Lawrence loves is his work," she admitted. "Loving a person isn't a consideration of marriage for him. He'll never notice that my heart isn't his."

"Your life is going to be empty, Julia," he said softly, standing behind her. "Cold and lonely and empty. Why are you choosing that over the happiness we can have?"

It was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, but she turned around to look at him, to face the horrible pain she'd caused, to add, in the name of honesty, her own to that he already bore. "Because I can't imagine any loneliness deeper, colder, and darker than that which comes when true love ends."

He swallowed, opened his mouth to reply, and then closed it to swallow again. Finally, he cleared his throat to ask, "Is there anything I can do to convince you that I'll be a faithful husband?"

Her heart tearing in two, she reached up to trail the backs of her fingers over the hard angle of his cheek and whisper, "I love you for who you are, Rennick. Not for the man I wish you could be."

His chest shuddered as he drew a breath and then he turned his head and stepped back. "I'll have the livery colors removed from the horses and carriage," he said, staring at the wall. "No one will know it's mine that delivers you to your doorstep."

It was done. There was no sense of accomplishment or joy in reaching the end of the course she'd chosen. Feeling as though she were numbly adrift in a vast sea, she nodded and replied, "Thank you, Rennick. That's very considerate of you."

"I'll be there for the ceremony tomorrow," he added, still staring off, his voice sounding hollow and distant to her ears. "People would think it odd if I weren't. They'd speculate as to why I wasn't and..." He sighed. "You don't need the scandal."

She almost wished he'd deliberately create one, that he'd stop being so calm and accepting and strike out at her in anger and hurt and vengeance. She wouldn't blame him at all.

"And in case you're worrying about it..." He lifted his gaze to hers. There was no smile, no pretense of happiness. The dim flicker of exhausted resolve was the only light in his eyes. "I won't offer an objection when the parson calls for them, Julia. I promise I won't create a scene and humiliate you."

She nodded, the tears crawling up her throat and making speech impossible.

"But if you decide that you can't go through with it, my arms will be open for you. I'll bear the scandal and never for a single second regret it."

After all the condemnation, all the pain she'd put him through? He'd still take her?

Rennick watched the tears well along her lower lashes. Before they could spill over and crush the quaking dam holding back his own, he turned on his heel and walked away. One foot in front of the other, he repeated to himself as he went. Just get through it for now. Tomorrow would be another day.

The dense fog in his brain would lift by then; he'd think of something. Something other than how deeply and forever his heart ached.

Julia paused outside her front door to take a steadying breath and to press her fingertips to her eyes.

The lights burning in every window of the house told her that both her children were home and the last thing in the world she wanted to do was greet them with tear-swollen eyes. They'd be relentless in their pursuit of an explanation and she couldn't give them one. Not without dissolving into yet another sobbing puddle. It had taken every last measure of her will to get them stemmed as the carriage had rolled out of Rennick's drive. She didn't have the strength to fight that battle again.

Satisfied that she might have a chance of pa.s.sing their scrutiny, she took another fortifying breath, pushed the door open, and stepped into the brilliantly lit foyer.

They both vaulted up from their perches on the bottom stair, exclaiming in unison, "Mother!" and racing toward her.

"My darlings!" she cried, opening her arms and sweeping them both into her embrace. "How I've missed you both." She hugged them tight and long, and then set them back to look at them both with her mother's eyes. "Christopher, you've grown again," she said on a sigh, thinking that he was almost as tall as Rennick. "And Emma," she went on, turning her attention to a younger mirror image of herself, "you look positively glowing. I like what you've done with your hair."

"Mother," Chris blurted, calling her attention back to him. "Rennick St. James is back in London.

George Holcomb told me the news at the station."

Emma nodded. "And Elizabeth Johnson's older sister actually saw him at a ball four nights ago."

"What wonderful news," she managed to say, her heart hammering and the tears threatening again.

She turned away to strip off her gloves and stare at the stack of mail that had come during her absence.

"I know that you've missed him terribly," she went on, laying her gloves on the foyer table and reaching

up to pull out her hatpins. "Perhaps he'll be at the wedding. If he is, I'll see that the place cards are set so that you share the same table at the reception." Placing her hat beside her gloves, she picked up the mail, shuffled through it and asked, "Is there any message from Lawrence?"

"No," both declared with obvious relief.

"We can only hope that he's dropped dead."

She looked over her shoulder at her son. "That's unkind, Christopher."

"It's also honest," he pointed out, ramming his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'm not about to pretend that I like him."

Her heart jolted. Lord, he sounded so much like Rennick.

"And if he calls me Emmaline one more time, I'll scream," Emma announced hotly. "I swear I will."

She'd get through this; she had to. Putting the mail aside, she stepped between her children and linked her arms through theirs, saying, "Let's go see what Cook's prepared for dinner. I'm starving." With a bright smile she took the reins of conversation in hand. "And I simply can't wait to hear all about your recent adventures and triumphs. Every single detail."