“Nor I,” she admitted before she could think better of it. Realizing how vulnerable such a statement made her appear, she gently extricated herself from his arms, righting her clothes with trembling fingers as she did so.
“But that’s only to be expected, I suppose,” she said, tucking a stray curl back into her chignon. She let loose a strained laugh, praying it didn’t betray just how hard it was to feign that nothing was amiss. “We’ve been playacting all this time, pretending to a stronger affection than is truly there. Perhaps we’ve begun to believe a bit of the lie ourselves. Now then,” she said brightly even as panic began to rear, her control, always so easy to call upon, stubbornly eluding her, “shall we join the others?”
And with that she marched out of the cave, trying and failing to leave her heart back in that dim place. For she knew, with devastating certainty, she had done the one thing she’d vowed never to do: she’d fallen in love with him.
***
Quincy watched her leave with equal parts frustration and dismay. Her mask was back, more firmly in place than it had ever been. Questions bounced about in his head, keeping him from stopping her: What would he say? Would he apologize? Perhaps he’d spout something trite and lighthearted to ease the strain that had cropped up between them? Or maybe he’d choose the most ridiculous option of all and suggest they make their fake engagement a real one?
He blanched and stumbled to a halt in the cave entrance. Marriage? No, he was most assuredly not ready to marry. And even if he was, which he wasnot—something that required repeating, apparently—she wasn’t, either. It was why they had entered this farce in the first place, a situation that benefited them both in that it kept them from marrying.
Yet the idea settled in his soul, burrowing deep just as Clara had. And to his shock, it felt right.
He shook his head sharply, trying to dislodge the thought by force. But it stayed where it was, nice and snug. Frowning, he watched Clara walk with purpose across the sand. What the hell had changed in him so suddenly, so completely?
But he knew in a flash it had not been sudden. Every day that he was in her company, witnessing firsthand her deep love and unselfish devotion to her family, she had settled deeper into his heart. Even more powerful, however, had been those glimpses of the woman she hid from the world. Her passion, her vulnerability, the deep joys and sorrows that she tried so valiantly to lock away. They made him want to know more about her, to discover every hidden cove of her heart. He wanted to give her a life where she could express those emotions freely, where she didn’t feel the need to be someone else. He wanted to be able to love her.
He started. Love? No, he didn’t love Clara. That was ridiculous.
As his gaze caressed the stiff line of her back, however, he felt the truth of it down to his bones: He loved her. He loved her and wanted to give the world to her.
No, he wanted more than that. He wanted tosharethe world with her. Every adventure, every new horizon, even the heartbreaks that were bound to come. He wanted her by his side—not just anyone, buther—to teach her to embrace a joy in life she was only beginning to uncover, and to learn from her that calm strength that had made her who she was. Suddenly he knew that marriage, which had seemed like something that would anchor him in place, would be what filled his sails and propelled him toward a brighter future.
The next moment found him sprinting across the sand after her. In seconds he reached her, planting himself in her path. She skidded to a stunned halt. “What if we marry in truth?” he blurted.
Not the most elegant proposal, he realized belatedly. Her eyes flared wide. Though it wasn’t only shock from his asinine question that clouded them; no, betrayal and disappointment were there in spades.
“You needn’t promise marriage to coerce me into your bed, Quincy.”
She may as well have slapped him. He gaped at her, hurt smothering the hope in an instant. “Do you truly think me capable of such a thing?” he managed. “Haven’t you come to know me at all in the last weeks?”
She hugged her arms about her middle, looking as brittle as anyone could. “I don’t know that anyone can truly know a person after so short a time.”
The stark vulnerability in her posture and voice finally broke through his wounded ego. Her reaction had been too violent to be anything but the effects of some past emotional injury.
He had a flash of her face after her conversation with his mother, an expression that was hauntingly like the one lurking in her eyes now. Added to that the duchess’s insistence that Clara had some great scandal in her past, and it didn’t take him long to conclude what was upsetting her.
Someone had hurt her, had destroyed her trust. He wanted nothing more than to find the bastard, whoever he might be, and make him pay.
But what was important wasn’t the past. It was their future, hopefully together.
But how to convince her? “I know you said you would never marry—” he started.
“Correct,” she said. “I daresay I would not make a good wife. I’m nearly one and thirty and quite set in my ways, not some young debutante easily molded at her husband’s whim. Besides,” she continued, her words tumbling from her as if she was afraid he would speak and break her resolve, “you said yourself you’ve no intention of marrying, either. With both of us so set against it, it would be foolish to discount our initial reservations because of a simple kiss.”
She smiled, so wide he feared her cheeks might crack, and turned to go. He caught her hand, holding her back. She drew in a sharp breath.
“Just consider it, Clara,” he said.
She shook her head, refusing to meet his eyes. Her fingers remained slack in his grip, but they trembled. “No, I don’t think—”
“I’m not asking you to answer me this moment. Just do me the honor of considering the possibility.” Then, when it seemed she would definitively refuse, “Please.”
He filled the one word with the emotions of his heart, waiting as she stood silent, her head bowed. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she nodded. It was sharp, and barely perceptible for the tension in her. But it was a nod nevertheless.
He let out a breath, cautious joy spreading through him. It was on the tip of his tongue to declare his love for her; he should have done it from the start, and in his excitement he had blundered and left that pertinent information out. He winced. It was beginning to dawn on him just how unromantic his blasted proposal had been.
But one look at her face and he sensed instinctively it wasn’t the time. No doubt whoever had hurt her before had declared the same. He would just have to show her how he felt. In the meantime, she needed normalcy.