The Passion of Darius (Somerset Historicals 1)
“Of course we must.” He smiled down at her.
She didn’t speak again for the rest of the party. That was fine. Darius could enjoy her simply by having her near…for now.
“THOUGH your amount of debt is ruinous, Mr. George, I have a solution. It will be much preferable to debtors’ prison, I think.”
“What can I do for you, Mr. Rourke?” Mr. George slurred, probably half-sprung from all the wine he’d taken during the day.
“Give your consent to Marianne’s marriage to me.” He saw the shock in her expression at his proposal. Her eyes rolled up, her lips parted, and her breath grew shallow. Perfect. “Your debts will be paid, an allowance provided you, and Marianne will be settled respectably, protected and cared for as my wife.”
“Of course, Mr. Rourke, you may have my consent. She’ll marry you,” Mr. George agreed eagerly.
“No! Papa, you cannot make me!” Marianne faced Darius, her lovely blue eyes sparking at him. “Sir, I have no wish to marry. A decision I have made long ago. I am not suited for marriage. Your offer is flattering, but I will not be able to accept you.”
The thrill is already beginning, and you are so wrong. You are perfectly suited.
Right now, her regal stance, glinting eyes, and flushed cheeks all combined into one glorious vision. Her throat rising and falling with anxious breathing, causing strands of silky hair to flutter about her head, transfixed him. He wanted to press his lips to her neck and draw her to him. She might say she didn’t want it, but he believed she did. She just needed some convincing, was all. He could do that. The art of persuasion was a skill he possessed in abundance. Darius instinctively knew the way to get to her was through her father.
He changed his voice, directing it only to her. “Miss Marianne, would it not be easing to put your troubles aside? Let your cares and worries be placed into the hands of another? Into my willing hands? I would never wish for you to feel you had been coerced or forced in any way to do something that you could not reconcile yourself to. My offer is an honorable one. It is time for me to marry, and I greatly admire you.”
He paused at seeing her swallow hard, her neck pulsing in the hollow below her jaw. “I believe you are aware of that, and I also believe you would be the perfect partner for me. I approve of the manner in which you conduct yourself and your…disposition. There is no avarice in you.”
He turned to look disparagingly at Mr. George. “Your father’s debt is grave though. In a matter of days you will be out of your home, forced into debtors’ prison. But such a horrifying fate doesn’t have to be yours. I hate to think of you being subjected to such harsh conditions. And yes, Marianne, you would have to go, to look after your father. Is that what you would choose? Prison? Over marriage to me?”
He asked his questions gently, knowing exactly how to appeal to her need for direction and guidance at this moment of self-possession. “I think you want to marry me, don’t you, Marianne?”
“Sir, why would you do this?” Marianne shook her head unbelievingly.
Because I must have you.
“You suit me, Marianne. You are beautiful and elegant, and know your duty. You always do the right thing, because you are good, and you never want to disappoint.”
She looked at him. So silent, solemn, and utterly magnificent.
He whispered the last very softly. “Don’t disappoint me, Marianne.”
CHAPTER 2
The Acceptance
WHEN she heard him say, “Don’t disappoint me,” Marianne realized he knew. Somehow Mr. Rourke was aware of her desires. He’d watched her for so long, he’d puzzled her out. He knew what words to say and how to phrase them. And Mr. Rourke seemed to be the kind of man prepared to persist until he got his way. She realized this as well. He sought to compel her and tell her what to do. He wanted dominion over her. But Mr. Rourke was wrong about one part. Not always did she do the right thing. Sometimes she did wrong. Very wrong.
Marianne felt the walls closing in. The air in the room seemed to grow heavy as he stared into her eyes. She couldn’t do this. It wasn’t right for her to want—
“Mr. Rourke, I cannot accept your offer. It is—it’s not possible for me to be your—”
She stopped and shook her head at him, and then even had to turn away. She had almost said it out loud for
God’s sake! It simply wasn’t possible for her to be a wife. She wasn’t fit for the role. Matrimony would not be her destiny, and it’d be best if she made that fact clear to him right now. He wouldn’t want her anyway if he knew what she’d done. Darius Rourke was a man of wealth and property and needed heirs to pass it along. He must have a wife sensible in mind and capable of rearing his children, and that person certainly wouldn’t be her. She must not even consider such a notion.
If she allowed him to bore into her eyes a second longer, she’d lose her resolve. She had to get out of here. Her instincts screamed at her to get away from him and his commanding presence before he spoke another word! He was too good at coercion. Their little dance around the berry patch earlier had proved just how good he was. And the problem was that she liked when he directed her. Far too much.
“Papa, we are leaving.” She took her father by the arm and led him out. At the door, she paused, feeling a cold shiver rattle up the back of her neck.
“You disappoint me, Marianne.” His voice had a hard edge now. That Darius Rourke did not like being told “no” was of little surprise.
Marianne froze, closing her eyes, praying for strength. Without turning back, she whispered, “I am sorry, Mr. Rourke. I just cannot—” Stumbling on through the doorway; she fled his house, pulling her father along with her.
AS soon as his guests departed, Darius took paper from his desk and began to write. He was calm but resolute when he called for his steward and gave instructions for delivery of the missive.