Gently she pushed the door open, and it gave a faint, almost unnoticeable squeak. She had never actually stepped inside Zachary's bedroom during the period of her residence at the estate. Rich blue brocade and velvet draped the massive mahogany bed. Dark cherrywood paneling gleamed from the light shed by the row of four towering rectangular windows. Zachary was standing at one of the windows, having parted a fringed velvet curtain to stare down at the front drive. He held a glass of liquor in his hand. His hair was still wet and gleaming from a morning bath, and the scent of shaving soap lingered in the air. He was dressed in a plum silk robe that reached nearly to the floor, bare feet protruding from beneath the hem. Holly had forgotten how impossibly large he was. She was glad his back was still turned, so he wouldn't see the yearning shiver that ran through her.
“What did she say?” he asked in a low growl, evidently thinking she was Mrs. Burney.
Holly fought to keep her voice steady. “I'm afraid she insisted on seeing you.”
Zachary's broad back stiffened, muscles bulging beneath the thin covering of silk as he realized the identity of the intruder. It seemed to take him a moment to find his voice. “Get out,” he said quietly, without heat. “Go back to Ravenhill.”
“Lord Ravenhill has no claim on me,” she whispered, her throat clenching, “nor I on him.”
Slowly Zachary turned around. There was a slight tremor in his fingers that sent the amber liquid in his glass sloshing against the sides. He took a deep swallow of the liquor, his cold black gaze never leaving her. He looked composed, though his face was undeniably haggard. There were circles beneath his eyes, and the healthy bronze color of his skin had turned ashen from too much time spent drinking indoors. Holly's gaze swept over him hungrily, and she ached to run to him, stroke and soothe and hold him. Please, God, don't let him send me away, she thought desperately. She hated the way he looked at her, the black eyes that had once been filled with teasing warmth and passion now so flat and indifferent. He regarded her as if she were a stranger…as if he had no feeling left for her.
“What does that mean?” He spoke in a monotone, as if the subject held no interest for him.
Marshaling her courage, Holly closed the door and approached him, then stopped a few feet away. “Lord Ravenhill and I agreed to remain friends, but there will be no wedding. I told him that I could not keep my promise to George, because…” She paused and nearly shriveled from dismay as she saw Zachary's complete lack of reaction to the news.
“Because,” he prompted in a monotone.
“Because my heart is otherwise engaged.”
A long, nerve-wracking silence followed her admission. Oh, why didn't he say something? Why did he look so callous and indifferent?
“That was a mistake,” he finally said.
“No.” She stared at him beseechingly. “My mistake was in leaving here…leaving yo
u…and I've come to explain things and ask you—”
“Holly, don't.” Zachary let out a taut breath and shook his head. “You don't have to explain a damned thing. I understand why you left.” A self-deprecating smile touched his lips. “After a month of reflection—and swilling like a pig at his trough—I accepted your decision. You made the best choice. You were right—it would have come to a bad end between us. God knows it's better to preserve a few enjoyable memories and leave things as they are.”
The finality in his voice stunned Holly. “Please,” she said unsteadily, “don't say another word. Just listen to me. I owe you the complete truth, and after you hear it—if you still want to send me away—then I will go. But I won't leave until I've said my piece, and you'll stand right there and listen, and if you don't…”
“If I don't?” he asked with a ghost of his old smile.
“Then I'll never let you have a moment's peace,” she threatened in suppressed panic. “I'll follow you everywhere I'll shout at the top of my lungs.”
Zachary finished his drink and went to the night table, where a bottle of brandy awaited. The sight gave Holly a tiny thrill of hope. He wouldn't still be drinking if he had lost all feeling for her, would he? “All right,” he said brusquely, refilling his glass. “Say your piece. You have my attention for the next five minutes, after which I want your troublesome little arse off my estate. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Holly bit her lip and lowered her hands to her sides. It was difficult to strip her soul bare before him, but that was precisely what was required if she was to win him back. “I loved you from the beginning,” she said, forcing herself to look directly at him. “I can see that now, although at the time I didn't realize what was happening. I haven't wanted to face the truth, that I am exactly what you called me—a coward.” Her gaze searched Zachary's dark face for a reaction to her admission, but there was no sign of emotion. He downed another two fingers of brandy, consuming the distillation with slow, deliberate swallows. “When George died in my arms,” Holly continued raggedly, “I wanted to die, too. I never wanted to feel such pain again, and I knew the safest thing would be to never let myself love anyone that way. And so I used my promise to George as an excuse to hold you at bay.”
Holly paused uncertainly, realizing that for some reason her words had caused a flush to rise from Zachary's throat to his ears. Taking courage from that telltale wash of color, she forced herself to go on. “I was willing to use any reason I could find to keep from loving you. And then…when you and I…in the summerhouse…” Too distraught to look at him any longer, Holly lowered her head.
“I had never felt that way before,” she said. “I was utterly lost. I had no control over my heart or my thoughts, and so I was frantic to leave you. Ever since then I've tried to step back into my old life, but the fit isn't right anymore. I've changed. Because of you.” Suddenly she could barely see him through a scalding rush of tears. “I've finally realized that there is something worse than possibly losing you…and that is never having you at all.” Her voice cramped and faltered, and she could only whisper. “Please let me stay, Zachary—on any terms you desire. Don't make me live without you. I love you so desperately.”
The room was as quiet as a tomb, with no sound or movement from the man standing several feet away. If he still wanted her, if he still cared, she thought, he would have taken her in his arms by now. The realization made her want to shrink into nothing. A dull, pervasive pain began to seep from her chest. She wondered what she would do after he sent her away, where she would go, how she would go about building a new life for herself and Rose, when all she wanted to do was draw into a ball and howl with bitter regret. Staring hard at the floor, she shuddered with the effort not to break into humiliating sobs.
Zachary's bare feet came into her vision, and she started in surprise, for he had come to her as silently as a cat. He took her left hand, paused and stared down at it wordlessly. Suddenly Holly understood what he was looking at—the gold wedding band that she had never removed since the day her husband had placed it on her finger. Making a wretched sound, she snatched her hand from his and tugged at the ring. It was difficult to remove, and she twisted at it in a spasm of panic before it finally slid free. Dropping the circlet to the floor, she looked at the pale mark it had left on her finger and raised her tear-filled eyes to Zachary's blurred face.
She heard him murmur her name, and then, to her utter astonishment, she saw him sink to his knees and felt his huge hands clutching the folds of silk at her hips. He buried his face against her midriff like an exhausted child.
Shocked, Holly reached down to his dark hair. The thick, slightly curling strands were damp against her fingertips, and she stroked them lovingly. “Darling,” she whispered over and over, touching the hot nape of his neck.
Suddenly he rose in a fluid movement and stared into her upturned face. He wore the expression of a man who had journeyed through hellfire, and been scorched in the process.
“Damn you,” he muttered, wiping at her tears with his fingers. “I could throttle you for putting us both through this.”
“You told me not to come back,” she sobbed in painful relief. “I was so afraid to try…Y-you sounded so final…”
“I thought I was losing you. I didn't know what the hell I was saying.” He crushed her against his pounding heart, running his hands over her hair and completely disheveling it.