Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection

“I’m not kind,” he snarled.

To his surprise, a hint of a smile softened the austere line of her lips. “Of course you are, Joss. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

The compliment didn’t please him. Not when she was using it against him.

He spread his hands. “Maggie, don’t let your pride consign you to a lonely life.” He paused. “And you could be carrying my child. I wasn’t as careful as I might have been.” He’d been so drunk on pleasure, he hadn’t thought about trying to protect her from pregnancy until it was too late.

In an age-old gesture, her hand crept to cover her belly, and for a fleeting instant, she didn’t look like some warrior goddess condemning a mere mortal to eternal banishment. She looked like a young girl facing an uncertain future. “I mightn’t be.”

“Not good enough.” The glance he shot her was a match for any uncompromising attitude she could summon. “I will not have a child of mine born a bastard. You can put aside any noble thoughts of letting me escape the consequences of my acts.”

“I’m not being noble,” she said, and her voice cracked.

“Neither am I,” he said brusquely.

To his horror, tears glittered in her lovely eyes.

“Don’t cry, Maggie. For God’s sake, don’t cry.” He reached out, but let his hands drop back to his sides when he saw how distraught she looked. “Would it really be too horrible to marry me? I thought you liked me.”

Her lip trembled. “Of course I do.”

“Then why?” he asked in bewilderment. “Did I frighten you when we came together? I can be a careless brute, I know. But I promise to do better.”

Her tears spilled over and trickled down her pale cheeks. “You didn’t frighten me. You’re wonderful.”

“So wonderful you won’t have a bar of me.” The air he drew into his lungs tasted as bitter as vinegar. “Instead you want to stay here in this wilderness and forget you ever knew poor lovelorn Josiah Hale.”

At last he dared to mention love, but he couldn’t blame her for missing it in the rest of what he said. He’d meant to tell her, once he’d asked her to marry him. But everything had gone wrong after the proposal, and his declaration had shriveled away into silence.

“Oh, Joss,” she said on a broken sigh. “You know that’s not true.”

Sick with wretchedness, he turned away. He’d sworn to make her happy, yet every word he spoke wounded her more deeply. He was a blasted lumbering clodpoll. No wonder she didn’t want him. “I only know the girl I long to marry won’t have me.”

He stared into the fire and struggled to imagine a future without Maggie at its center. The devil of it was that shouldn’t be so difficult. A week ago, he hadn’t known she existed. Going on without her shouldn’t feel like someone bashed him with a club.

But that was how it did feel. Worse.

Mere hours ago, he’d found the will to leave her. But since then, he’d taken her innocence and made a commitment to her in his soul. A commitment that felt stronger than steel.

“If I’m not pregnant, nobody need ever know we came together,” she said in a reedy voice.

He cleared his throat. Humiliating how one small woman had the power to vanquish him. “I told you I want you. I’m not doing this because I should, but because I can’t live without you.”

Another bristling silence, before he heard a faltering step behind him. “Is that true?”

He didn’t dare turn around, although he sensed she was close behind him. “Of course it’s bloody true.”

“If it isn’t true, I’ll never forgive you.”

Slowly he turned to face her. She was still crying, which made him want to smash something. “Maggie?”

“Because…” She sucked in a shuddering breath, then spoke in a rush. “Because if you’re marrying me out of duty, I couldn’t bear it. I love you too much to endure your pity.”

He stared into her lovely face and tried to make sense of what he heard. “What did you say?”

She squared her shoulders as she gathered her courage. The stance was familiar. Just so had she greeted him when he’d stumbled into the house—and his destiny—out of a snowstorm. “I said I don’t want your pity.”

He gave a derisive snort. “As if I’d pity you. You’re magnificent.”