He tightened the muscles of his buttocks and thighs, preparing to push himself deep inside her, aching for the sheer bliss of being sheathed within her beautiful body.
Now, he thought. Now!
But even as he began his thrust forward he was slowing, then stopping. His taut muscles went to jelly, and wearily he dropped his brow against her hair. His body was shaking with the effort it had taken to deny himself something he thought he wanted with all his heart and all his being.
“Valentine?” she wailed, squirming against him.
A chuckle forced its way through the lump in his throat.
“Valentine!” She was distraught, her hands thumping on his chest, and tugging at his arms and shoulders. “You’re laughing. Why are you laughing?”
He felt light-headed. He wanted her so much but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it and he knew why. But when he looked down into Marissa’s flushed, worried face he knew he wasn’t going to tell her the truth, not entirely.
“You are a vibrant and beautiful woman. You deserve someone young and untarnished, someone who isn’t set in his ways.”
Her eyes widened. “But you do want me. I know you do.”
“Oh, I want you. I also know that I will not take away your chance to change your mind, no matter how much you think you want me to.”
Wanting her could lead them into very murky waters. There wasn’t always a happy ever after. That was something he knew and she didn’t, not yet.
Now there were tears in her eyes. She reached up to touch his face, her palms sliding to cup his lean cheeks. “Valentine, I appreciate your care of me, really I do, but there is no need. I thought we understood each other on that. Don’t you believe me?”
“You deserve better than me. I’m afraid I could never make you happy,” he said.
She sighed. Her lips trembled and she bit into them to make them stop. “You are a very stubborn man.”
“Another of my myriad faults,” he replied with a shaky laugh.
“Oh, you have a great many,” she agreed with a lopsided smile. “Can—can you hold me? If you do not think it will compromise my spotless reputation.”
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly and forcing back the heat of the passion that remained lurking just beneath the surface. This is enough for now, he thought, and almost convinced himself into believing it.
“Valentine, I am going to make you change your mind,” she said, her voice muffled against his jacket. “I haven’t given up, you know.”
“Now who’s being stubborn,” he said.
He would give her time to realize how unsuitable a prospect he was for her, and eventually she would realize it. But he already knew the truth. He’d seen it, clear as day, when he was on the verge of irrevocably making her his. The future, spread before him. And he’d been afraid.
Marriage, domestic life, children…he’d be committed to the lot. But what if the past repeated itself? What if the misery of his life with Vanessa returned? He had survived once but this time, with Marissa…Marissa, the woman he was beginning to love with a single-minded passion. No, he didn’t think he could bear it if one day she turned to look at him as if he was a beast.
He would be utterly destroyed. There would be no way back.
How could he take the chance?
But even as he made his decision there was an odd ache in his chest, an agonizing sense of loss. He wondered what was worse, committing himself to Marissa and taking the chance of destroying her life and his sanity, or living the rest of time without her.
Chapter 21
It seemed as if Marissa had barely closed her eyes and fallen asleep, after an evening filling in Lady Bethany and Jasper on the search at Canthorpe, while inwardly obsessing over the problem of Valentine’s pigheadedness. She was woken by knocking on the front door and a loud shout for entry. Then more voices began shouting and doors slamming, all with an increasing sense of urgency.
Marissa sat up in her bed, hair in her eyes, and stumbled out barefoot, searching for her robe. She’d been dreaming of being wrapped in Valentine’s arms, and now it was a shock to find herself alone in the darkness. Ever since he’d spoken to her about his concerns she’d felt as if she was in limbo, knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him, but unable to convince him to take the final step.
She thought there was probably an element of self-preservation in his behavior. He’d been through one bitter experience and was shy of facing another. Marissa couldn’t blame him for that, but she wished he would just throw all his doubts aside.
But if he did that he wouldn’t be Valentine, would he?
By now she’d wrapped her robe over her nightgown, and made her way out to the landing. Leaning against the balustrade, she peered down into the hall. Lamplight wavered, showing Morris standing shivering in his nightgown and his nightcap, while Valentine, in hastily donned breeches and a crumpled shirt, questioned a disheveled-looking young man who shuffled his boots as he gave his answers.