“Shh,cara,” he murmured and she shivered, sagging against him. She hated herself for giving into this small measure of comfort he offered. Hated her body’s traitorous reaction to his touch. In spite of everything, she still wanted him, ached for the feel of his hands on her.
“I don’t pity you,” he said, lips close to her ear. “If anything, I admire you.”
“Why?” She was afraid to move, to look at him.
“Because you had the courage to escape him. Deep down, you knew you were something.”
She felt his lips graze the hollow below her ear.
“Youaresomething.”
A tremor coursed through her as his breath skimmed her skin, and she realized he did not sound in the least disgusted by her. She turned to face him. Sliding around in his arms, she stared into his eyes. The amber was warm and liquid once again, the heat and softness telling her he’d meant every word. He didn’t pity or detest her.
“You broke your engagement to Roxbury even though you knew it was what your parents wanted,” he continued. “Even though you knew you’d be the subject of gossip throughout theton. And then that night at our engagement ball.” He put a hand to her cheek, wiped a tear away. “You stood next to me and looked him in
the face, not in the least afraid. Not flinching. I know what it took for you to do that.”
He cupped her chin. “If you could just trust me, just give me a chance, I can make you forget him.”
She knew it was true. She’d fought and struggled to make herself whole again, and she’d succeeded. But with Ethan’s love, she could go so much farther.
She looked into his eyes. Heat radiated from his body, scorching her, leaving her nearly breathless. But she didn’t wrap her arms around him as she yearned to, didn’t kiss him as she wanted. Because, though she knew Ethan could help her heal from Roxbury’s abuse, had already helped her more than he would ever know, there was nothing between them if he didn’t trust her. There was only a void if he couldn’t open himself to her, break down his walls, and trust her unconditionally.
She cupped his face in return. “And, ifyoutrustme, Ethan, I can make you forgether.”
He scowled and stepped away, and she closed her eyes. The pain was no longer fresh, just a dull twinge to remind her that their marriage, her dreams of love, were hopeless.
“But you won’t even let me try, will you?” she whispered, trying to stop her lip from trembling. “You’ll never let me in.” She said it more for herself than for him because she needed to accept it, to believe it, or face this heart-wrenching ache over and over.
He went to the table near the fire, lifted his drink, and held it, dangling it in one hand at his side.
“I love you.” She saw him stiffen. His back was to her, but she went on anyway. “I loved you the first time I saw you. I prayed, hoped, wished, you might come to love me too.”
He was silent, staring into the flames.
“But that’s too much of a risk for you, isn’t it? You’ll rush headlong into danger for the Foreign Office, but you won’t risk your heart.”
He sipped his drink.
“Love can’t be one-sided, Ethan. I want what you’re offering, but I can only go so far on my own. We have to make this journey together. Or neither of us makes it.” She went to the dressing room door, pulled it open. “I’m walking back to my ivory tower now. When you decide you want a wife rather than a fairy-tale princess, you know where to find me.”
She shut the door behind her and stumbled, dazed and numb, into her room. She didn’t even undress before climbing into bed. She lay in the semi-darkness, seeing nothing, knowing Ethan wouldn’t come to her, but praying for it all the same.
Her eyes burned from unshed tears and exhaustion when the first streaks of gray shot through the black of the night sky. She heard Ethan’s door open, heard his steps in the hall. For the briefest of instants, he paused before her door. She gripped her pale sheets in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut in silent entreaty. Then the floorboard creaked and she heard footfalls receding.
He was gone. As if to confirm it, she heard Destrehan’s hoof beats on the drive. She listened as they grew fainter, curling herself into a ball under the covers. She wondered dully if he’d ever return to her—not that it mattered. He’d never really been hers at all.
FRANCESCA RUBBED HERmittened hands together in a vain effort to keep them warm. She scanned a bare patch of ground covered with brown heather in front of her. December in Yorkshire seemed colder than those she remembered at Tanglewilde.
“If everything meets with your approval, Lady Winterbourne,” Mr. Brown said, “I’ll have the men start digging the hospital’s foundation tomorrow.”
Francesca stilled her hands and tried to focus on Winterbourne Hall’s steward. “I’d like that. If the men work quickly, we can have it laid before the ground freezes.”
Brown nodded. “The weather has been unusually mild for this time of year, but I would still feel more secure if we waited until spring.”
“I know.”
Brown had warned her countless times that mid-December was not a good time to begin a project like the construction of her hospital. But how could she make him understand that now, with Ethan gone, she needed the hospital more than ever? She needed something to distract her from her loneliness. Something to make her feel useful, necessary.
