This biting, unspeaking grief was singular.
“Diana…” he began in bewilderment, but she slid her hand over his mouth. How strange to read tenderness in her touch when she was so appalled by his proposal.
To his shock, tears sparkled in her eyes. Since they’d first made love, he’d never seen her cry. Not even when her father caught her with her lover. Not even when she sent that lover away.
Although he wasn’t sure what she wanted, he couldn’t help lifting one hand to cup her face. She was so distressed. What had he said? The sight of her weeping made him want to cut his throat. Her pain was his.
She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let her. “No…” she forced out in a strangled voice.
His heart plummeted to his gut. “No?”
He wanted to sound uncaring, but his voice cracked and betrayed his pain with mortifying clarity.
She tried again to escape before settling in his hold, panting like a frightened bird. He’d never viewed her in such a fragile light—to him, she’d always been a Valkyrie—but something about her now struck him as vulnerable and broken.
“Ashcroft, it’s impossible,” she said, still in that constricted voice, as though she contained a storm of tears. “I’m sorry. Your proposal is kind and flattering.”
Kind and flattering? What bloody rubbish was this? It didn’t even sound like her. His Diana didn’t rely on polite platitudes.
Dull-bladed anger mashed his heart. Every time he asked her for something, she said it was impossible.
He released her waist and grabbed the hand still pressed against his lips, drawing it away. Not before he brushed a phantom kiss across her fingertips. He’d gone over a week without touching her. Even through the turmoil, the contact of skin on skin quieted the devils howling in his soul.
“Diana, think before you reject me.” He went on before she phrased further objection. “I’ll do my best to make you happy.”
She swallowed and forced out an answer that was no answer. “You don’t understand, Tarquin.”
Pathetic creature that he was, he found solace in her use of his Christian name. “Then help me understand.”
All his life, he’d battered his head against doors that were perpetually closed. Not this time. She wasn’t going to keep him out. No matter how she tried. He wasn’t a helpless child anymore. She owed him more than this. She mightn’t love him, but she cared. He wasn’t stupid enough to think she didn’t. He’d seen her eyes when he was so deep inside her, he’d touched her heart.
Diana stared at him with complete devastation. However she reacted to his proposal, he couldn’t accuse her of taking his offer lightly.
He spoke urgently. “Why is it impossible? I’m free. You’re free. We’re both of age and in possession of our wits. Well, at least I used to think I was. We’ll establish a family, a life together. Doesn’t that tempt you?”
“Tarquin, it’s not you…”
The line women always used to pacify a rejected suitor. Not that he’d heard it himself before now. He abandoned any pretense at pride. “I’m a man of good fortune, Diana. Houses. Gold. Land. You’ll live in comfort. The child will want for nothing.”
Some unreadable emotion crossed her face, made her appear tired and drawn. He had a glimpse of how she’d look as an old woman if life presented only bitterness and disappointment.
Her voice vibrated with anguish. “Ashcroft, I beg you, say no more.”
“I will speak. What’s to stop our marrying? I’ll look after your father. Is that what worries you? Good God, I’m taking on a wife and a baby. I’m sure I’ll find room in the mausoleum I live in for a grandfather.”
This time she managed to break away. He let her go, failure setting up a grim knell in his heart. Tears poured down her pale cheeks. She dashed at them with unsteady hands. “Don’t ask me again. I can’t marry you.”
“Why?”
Again that word. Why. It would be engraved on his tomb-stone. He drew in a shuddering breath and fought for a control that had moved out of reach long ago.
“Why, Diana? You’re carrying my child. Surely that’s reason to favor my suit. What’s to become of you once the baby’s existence becomes known? You can’t hope to hide such news in a village the size of Marsham. At least let me give you the protection of my name.” Acid edged his voice. “You liked me well enough to crawl into my bed. Surely you like me well enough to allow me to offer honorable recompense.”
“There is no
honor,” she said brokenly, swinging away and burying her face in her hands.
Although he’d never lied to himself about his lack of virtue, her response cut him to the quick. “I know I’m the world’s greatest rogue, but I swear there’s honor in this proposal.”