She felt fury rise in her. "Is this what marriage to you would be like? You would demand my obedience like a well-trained dog, and when I disagreed, you would manhandle me?"
He stopped and turned to face her. He looked haunted. She felt instant contrition at her words. Which was foolish, indeed. She should be angry with him, but she could not stand the hurt she saw in his eyes.
"We'll never know, will we?"
She shook her head, unable to speak under his pain-filled scrutiny. She extended her hand to touch him and he jerked away as if burned. She sighed.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
His face became an emotionless mask. "I will get the captain. He knows every sailor on this ship as well as he knows the rigging."
His cold demeanor unnerved her. How could he talk of her attacker with such calm detachment? Flicking her a glance empty of feeling, he turned again to go.
"Pierson, wait. Please."
He stopped, but did not face her.
She didn't know what to say, but she could not leave things as they were. "I need to explain."
He turned slowly and she saw that his mask had slipped. His face wore a savage scowl. "On the contrary. Your actions speak for themselves. A bastard is good enough for a lover, but not good enough for a husband. Unfortunately, it is not a new idea for me. You will pardon me if I do not wish you luck in your hunt for a more suitable parti this Season."
She stared at him. "That is what you think? That I would take you to bed, take you into my body, and then search for another gentleman to marry?"
He glared at her. "What would you have me believe? You refused my offer of marriage."
"But not because I believe that I can do better." She twisted her hands together. "It is essential that you believe that."
He grabbed her by the upper arms and pulled her to within inches of his body. She felt his heat emanate toward her, and she longed to burrow against him, to recapture a small measure of the intimacy they had experienced earlier.
"Then. Tell. Me. Why."
She might have been able to refuse if he had not sounded so tortured.
She would not allow him to believe that his father's actions colored her view of him. "I don't want to marry, Drake. Not ever. After what happened to my mother, I will not allow a man to have the power to hurt me like that."
"I would never treat you as your father did your mother."
"How can you be sure? You're used to getting your own way." She pointedly looked around the cabin where he had dragged her.
He glared. "You cannot compare my concern for your safety with your father's baseless suspicions."
She sighed. "You don't understand. You never knew my mother, but losing my … me and then my father tore her apart. She grieved always. It was in her eyes, a sadness that tinged every smile. I won't risk losing part of myself that way."
"Not all marriages end like your parents'."
She knew that; she had lived with Uncle Ashby and Aunt Ruth all her life, after all. "Marriage gives men too much power over women. Even so-called good marriages. Aunt Ruth is happy in her own way, but she left all that she knew for Uncle Ashby's sake. The worst part is that he expected her to. She never had a choice. I won't put myself in that position."
"Does she complain about living on the island?"
Thea frowned. "No, but that's not the point."
"Do you think she regrets letting her husband take her from England? Does she want to move back?"
"No, but you are ignoring the real issue here."
"If her happiness is not the issue, what is?"
Confused frustration welled up in Thea. "You're twisting things."