Then, unbelievably, another member of the Durham family had entered the picture—Brie. By that time, however, Dominic had been unable to credit her involvement as being merely circumstantial. But not only had he mistrusted her, he had suspected Brie of betrayal. He had believed her capable of cunning and deceit, if not actually cold-blooded murder.
Dominic groaned out loud. How could he have been so blind? But he knew the answer to that. He had wanted to believe her guilty, for his own self-protection. He had been overwhelmingly attracted to her from the first, and when she had begun to penetrate his defenses, he had actually felt relief that he could arm himself with the knowledge of her treachery.
But Brie had not given up. She had stood firm in her
championship of her beliefs, and had shown a courage and determination that couldn't be broken by public ridicule or physical threats. And she had taken his side, even when her grandfather had been killed.
Remembering how badly he had treated her, Dominic groaned again. He owned her an apology, several hundred abjectly humble apologies to be exact—and not the least was for his cruel remark this morning in the inn. He had not meant to hurt her. He had only wanted to end the closeness that had recently sprung up between them, knowing he needed a clear head to face his past. Even so, he deserved to be shot for treating her so callously.
Feeling an inexplicable sense of urgency, Dominic turned his mount and spurred him into a canter. The mist had cleared somewhat, leaving the bare trees dripping with moisture, but he paid no attention to his surroundings as he rode back in the direction of the Durham estate. His thoughts were fully occupied with Brie.
What was it that Jason had said when they had parted at Dover? You must marry her. Well, that was true enough. It was the only honorable course. But his friend's conviction that he was in love was something Dominic wasn't yet willing to contemplate. He wasn't prepared to consider that he might have lost his heart to a hot-tempered, sharp-tongued vixen. It was enough that he was willing to sacrifice his freedom in order to preserve Brie's honor.
Realizing his thoughts, Dominic smiled for the first time that day. The idea of a sacrifice was distinctly humorous. It would be no hardship being married to Brie. In fact, he might find it rather enjoyable. Brie was no prim and proper miss who would treat her conjugal duties in the bedroom as obligations. She was as warm and passionate and beautiful as any mistress, and even if she possessed a hot temper and sharp tongue, she was intelligent and lively enough to keep boredom at bay. Of course, she was far too independent for a woman, Dominic reflected, but as her husband he could influence that. He would keep her in bed where there was less chance for argument. Brie was far more likely to obey him when he was plying her body with kisses.
Dominic grinned at that image, his teeth showing white against his bronzed skin. No, he had to admit that the idea of marriage didn't seem nearly so distasteful as it once had.
By the time he reached the stableyard, his plans were well formed. First he would take Brie to Paris where, with the help of the British Consulate, he would obtain a special marriage license and make her his countess. Then when they were married, he would buy her a magnificent wardrobe, befitting her station as the new Lady Stanton. She had left England with only the clothes on her back, and the outfits he had scrounged up in Dieppe would hardly suffice for a wedding trip. For the honeymoon, they would visit some of the other capitals of Europe, then perhaps rent a villa on the Mediterranean for a month or two. And when they returned to England in the fall, the scandal would have blown over.
Dominic's thoughts had so easily adjusted to this pleasant future that Julian's warning had the same effect as a dousing of ice water. The possibility that Brie might not want him for a husband hadn't even entered Dominic's mind. He had realized of course, that her pride had been wounded, both by his lack of trust in her and his subsequent behavior, but he had been certain that once he tendered his apologies, Brie would forgive him and forget the tragic past. But now it seemed she had thrown his magnanimous gesture back in his face before he had even an opportunity to present his offer.
Dominic's attitude as he strode determinedly toward the house was a mixture of simmering anger, disbelief, and apprehension. An unproductive search of the ground floor rooms did nothing to sweeten his temper, nor did his mood improve when all the servants shrank from him in fear. At last, however, Dominic cornered a trembling maid who said both ladies could be found upstairs in one of the spare bedchambers. Taking the stairs two at a time, he strode purposefully down
the hall and rapped sharply on the door.
Brie was helping Katherine into a warm travelling cloak and had her back to the door, so she didn't immediately see Dominic when he entered. When Katherine visibly stiffened, Brie turned. She froze then, like an animal poised for flight. Even with one arm in a sling, Dominic looked every inch like a powerful predator ready to spring on its victim—and she was to be the victim.
"I would like a word with you," he ground out menacingly. "In private."
Seeing the chill look in his eyes, Brie tried to remember all the logical arguments she had prepared just for this moment. But all the rational arguments in the world didn't help the fact that her pulse began leaping uncontrollably every time Dominic simply came near her.
Mentally trying to bolster her courage, Brie finished tying the strings of Katherine's cloak and gave her a reassuring smile, before silently preceding Dominic from the room.
The moment they were alone, Dominic grasped her by the arm and guided her to the chamber across the hall. Brie gasped at his rough handling, and when Dominic had shut the door, she swung around to face him, her hands clenched at her sides.
Seeing the fury in her eyes, Dominic couldn't help smiling at himself. As always, that flashing green fire stirred his blood and drove any rational thoughts from his mind. He ached to take Brie in his arms, to kiss away her anger, to change her indignation to passion. He took a step toward her, intending to embrace her, but Brie retreated across the room.
"What do you want, Dominic?" she asked warily. "You said you needed to speak to me."
Dominic hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself. Was she playing some kind of coy game? She knew perfectly well what this interview was about, however ignorant she pretended to be. He meant to ask her to become his wife. But perhaps she needed to hear his proposal from his own lips.
Curbing his impatience, he replied rather stiffly. "Julian tells me you wish to leave. Before you go, however, I should like you to know that I am willing to offer you the protection of my name."
Hearing the way he phrased his offer, Brie felt her last lingering hope die. Never, never could she marry this man loving him the way she did, being unloved in return. She averted her face, not wanting him to see the tears that stung her eyes.
"Brie, did you hear me?" Dominic said softly. "I am asking for your hand in marriage."
"Yes, I heard you. Julian said that you would feel compelled to offer for me."
"Not compelled, precisely—although in all honor I cannot allow you to suffer because of my actions. But—"
"In all honor!" She whirled to face him, wanting to lash out and hurt him as she had been hurt. "Is it honorable to propose marriage because of a misguided sense of guilt? Do you suddenly find you have a conscience? Well, you can rest easy, Dominic. I won't marry you merely to save my reputation. You aren't obliged to protect me, nor are you required to feel guilty because I allowed you into my bed of my own free will."
Dominic responded with a sardonic smile. "You are much mistaken if you attribute my motives to guilt."
"Indeed? Then what, pray, are your motives?"
His eyes narrowed as he studied Brie. What difference did it make why he married her, for Christ's sake? She was being offered a position that most women would be honored to accept. Dominic felt his own temper flaring. He wanted to shake her until she abandoned her absurd attitude and admitted that her reluctance was merely pretense. But when he saw the tired droop of her shoulders and the way she was wearily rubbing her temples, he realized she must be exhausted. "Brie," he said quietly, "this has been a very long day for us both. You should rest. Our discussion can wait until tomorrow."