“Is that how you knew to defend yourself from those brutes’ vicious blows? Your childhood bouts of fisticuffs?”
“That and various sparring matches at Gentleman Jackson’s.” He meant the boxing salon run by a former national champion, Maura knew.
She used a gentle touch to probe Ash’s ribs. “I don’t believe anything is broken. I could make up a warm poultice and wrap your chest, or I could just apply some liniment to ease the pain and bruising.”
“The liniment will do. I am not an invalid.”
Maura complied, carefully smoothing a pungent yellow ointment over the discolorations and rubbing it into his skin.
“Thank you, love,” Ash said, easing his shirt down again. “That does indeed feel better.”
Knowing there was nothing more to be done for him, Maura washed and dried her hands, then busied herself returning the supplies to the closet shelf, drawing out the moment as she tried to gather her courage.
Realizing she was purposely delaying, she cleared her throat and began in a small voice. “Ash, I have been thinking.”
“Yes?”
“I believe it is time for me to return home to Suffolk.”
At his lack of response, she glanced over her shoulder with trepidation. He had raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for further explanation.
“You see … Gandy has his hands full with the spring foaling and badly needs my help. And I ought to bring Emperor home as well.”
“Of course,” Ash said in an even tone.
“I don’t wish to seem ungrateful,” Maura added in a rush, “by disappearing the instant my problems are settled, but there is no reason for me to remain here.” She took a deep breath to brace herself. “There is no reason to continue our charade, either.”
Ash’s gaze stayed fixed on her. “No reason?” he repeated slowly. “You mean you want to end our betrothal?”
What she wanted was entirely beside the point, Maura thought despairingly. “Yes.” There, she had said it. She had provided him the excuse to back out if he wished to.
“You seem to be in a hurry,” Ash remarked at last. “Why such haste?”
“I am in no hurry,” she lied. “I just no longer need the protection of your name, now that you have dealt with Deering.”
His gaze was unusually penetrating, yet Maura couldn’t read his enigmatic expression.
“You never wanted to wed me in the first place,” she reminded him. “You only proposed a temporary arrangement as a means to protect me.”
“True.”
At his brusque reply, the pain that stabbed her was sharp and piercing. Maura suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
Ash’s next comment was not any more comforting, either. “If there should be a child … you know that will change things. You will have to wed me then.”
She nodded, although the ache in her throat wouldn’t let her speak. Ash was saying he would be willing to marry her if she was with child, but he was offering her no professions of love or even affection. His expression was starkly solemn, devoid of all emotion.
She wanted him to say something—anything—to prevent her from leaving, but his grave silence drew out.
“Very well,” he said finally. “When do you plan to leave?”
She had her answer, Maura realized, feeling the pain intensify. If he loved her, he would not let her go so readily.
Blindly she turned back to the supplies and finished arranging them neatly on the shelf. She was crying inside, but she wouldn’t let him see it. “Today. This afternoon,” she whispered past the ache in her throat.
“You are welcome to stay here longer if you wish.”
“I know.” Clamping her teeth together to hold back a sob, Maura pasted a smile on her lips as she faced him again.