REBECCA QUICKENED HERpace.
Lord above, she could not face Wicke right now. Why could he not have remained in London as he had wanted? She was beyond the scope of fluster. So many questions bounced around in her head. How many years? How long had he known about her girlish fancy on Langley? Had heneverconsidered her a sister-like figure at all?
She could rationalize all of that. Because contrary to what they may believe, and as much as they were simpler at times, men were creatures of even greater complexity than women.
But marriage?
That was too much. She could not begin to rationalize that.
“Rebecca,” then a curse.
She lifted her skirts to run, but a hand snaked out to stop her progress and she found herself being whirled around.
“You cannot run away from this.”
“Wicke . . .”
“Do you not want to marry? Do you not want what your brother and Caroline have?”
“What do you want me to say, Wicke?” Her words came out harsher than she intended. But how dare he raise such frank questions when he had been hiding behind her infatuation for years?
He too, seemed taken aback by her abruptness, but only momentarily as his sharp eyes narrowed on her. She met his gaze squarely. “Do you mean that I cannot run from your inappropriate behavior? I’d rather forget about it altogether.”
“You do not mean that Rebecca, so do not voice it,” he snapped. “And I do mind. You possess the most tantalizing sweetness. Your lips taste like honey and heaven. Do you thinkIcan just forget that?”
“Do not say such things to me!” This was not the Wicke she knew. This was another man. A stranger.
“No.”
She shot back anoof her own and twisted out of his hold. “Noto your sudden interest in matrimony.”
“Sudden? I have wanted you since Jim Parsons pulled your hair and I planted a fist on his nose. Ever since that day, you have brought rhythm to my life.”
Rebecca shook her head wildly. She remembered it differently. Langley had been the hero of that day. Hadn’t he? He had been the one to make her feel pretty amidst tears and mud.
“You can walk away from me, from this, Rebecca. Walk as far as your feet can take you. But you cannot escape the truth. Believe me. I have tried.” He caught her chin in his hand. “And the truth is you feel the spark between us too.”
She jerked her face away. “No, it is different for me. I am not you.”
“No, you are not. And still, all that lies on the other end of your sketches are sparks of unfilled promises.”
“Not promises,” Rebecca denied.
“Perhaps not ones you give voice to. Only your little book is privy to those, yes? You think Langley can give you the life that you long for? I know I can. Iwantto give you that life.”
Her heart flipped in her chest.
Those sketches again. She hadn’t corrected his assumption about her infatuation, the degree thereof, because frankly, she hadn’t thought to. His kiss had shocked her too thoroughly. Every time he overwhelmed her with his presence, she could think of nothing else but him.
I want you to sketch me.
Lah! How had her life upturned in the beat of a heart? Wicke had always just been there. Steady as a rock. Now he had poised himself as a jagged cliffside that might crumble beneath her feet. She did not want to plunge onto a rocky shore. And she would if she chose to veer too close to the edge of what Wicke was proposing. Marriage? Children? Three little copper-haired boys with soft brown eyes?
Rebecca ruthlessly pushed the unbidden image from her mind. Perhaps she had wanted all those things at one time, but her life had taken a different turn.
What would Wicke say if he ever discovered what she had done? The uninvited thought wormed its way into her consciousness and she picked it apart. It did not matter. She was not the lady he believed her to be.
“You kissed me back, never forget that.”
