Seven Nights in a Rogue's Bed (Sons of Sin 1)

“Jonas, is there no way to solve this?” She longed to be proud and strong, but faced with his intransigence, she couldn’t contain her desperation.

His eyes were flinty as they settled on her. “No.”

He left no room for maneuver or negotiation. Curse him, had she really failed? After all the love and joy and anguish, must she face a future without him? Impetuously she said the one thing she’d sworn she wouldn’t. “But you love me.”

She braced for denial. Instead he smiled again, this time with a hint of warmth. “Of course I love you.”

The swift admission soothed her aching heart like balm, although his calmness negated the statement’s significance. She surged to her feet with sudden hope. “Then we have a chance.”

He shook his head and turned away. “No, we don’t.” His voice deepened into an austerity that fell like acid on her ears. “Not a chance in hell.”

Desolation weighting her stomach, she shifted closer and realized he watched her in the window pane. Reflections had mediated so many of their interactions. It was time for them to meet face to face. “Jonas, I love you. You love me. Why should we be apart?”

She dared to touch his arm. He jerked as though she’d scalded him.

“Don’t.”

“All right.” She lowered her hand, but his violent rejection proved her presence left him far from unmoved. “Answer me.”

His jaw was so tight, it looked as if it might crack. “Because we can’t be together.”

Her frail attempt at dignity dissolved irredeemably. She spoke in an urgent rush. “I know I hurt you. You can’t imagine how much I’ve regretted what I did. I’m… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the marriage lines.” Despite her best efforts, her voice broke. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the baby.”

“Sidonie—”

Before he could reject her apology, she hurried on. She had to make him forgive her. She had to. “I’ll never keep secrets again. I’ll never lie or deceive you. I’ll be what you want.”

“You are what I want.” His voice was so low, she strained to hear. “You’ve always been what I want. But living with you will

make me wretched. Be kind, sweet Sidonie. Leave me to my solitude.”

Anger vanquished misery. “Your solitude will kill you.”

“Pray God it does,” he said bitterly.

“Don’t send me away.” This time when she touched his forearm, she clung when he tried to withdraw. “Give me a week. That’s all I ask. I gave you a week. A week where we’re lovers as we were before. A week to remind you what we are to each other.”

He remained still under her hand. His pallor indicated how agonizing he found her entreaties. If she’d been one ounce less desperate, she’d back away purely for compassion’s sake. “I don’t need reminding.”

“A week, Jonas.” She moved nearer and breathed deeply of his clean masculine scent. The pain of having him so near yet so far away in any real sense was excruciating.

“You say you love me,” he said as if discussing the weather. But he trembled under her hand as if his blood slowly turned to ice.

She moved close enough for her breasts to brush his arm. “You know I do.”

With ruthless tenderness, he pried her fingers off him. He stepped away and faced her. His skin was ashen and his eyes were flat gray like the sea under rain clouds. “If you love me, you’ll leave. You’ll go back to London and your own life. A life in which I play no part.”

She’d struggled to contain her tears but it was impossible. “You’re the father of my baby. You’ll always be part of my life, whether with me or not.”

“I won’t be with you.” He stepped behind the desk and she recognized he used it as a barrier against her. When he set down his wine, the gesture’s finality slashed at her heart.

She stared into his scarred face, more compelling than mere handsomeness could ever be, and recognized he was immovable. Nothing would change his decision. The strength of character that defied the world’s cruelties turned fatally against her. She’d hurt him too deeply. He wouldn’t allow himself to be vulnerable to her again.

Dear God, she’d failed.

They loved each other but love wasn’t enough.

He must have recognized her surrender because the tension seeped from his shoulders. His voice emerged more naturally. “Sleep in the dressing room. I won’t inflict my presence on you tomorrow.”