“I will take good care of her,” she assured him. “No one will do that better than I can.”
He gestured toward her with a hand. “But you don’t have the resources.”
All at once her cheeks colored with anger and her eyes burned with resolve. “You don’t know the first thing about ‘resources’ when it comes to dedicating your life to someone. What June will have from me is love. Beautiful, selfless, priceless love. Nothing is more important than that.”
Keeping her eyes on the sky, she slowly exhaled. “Only seconds ago you said you were going to behave yourself.”
“I will if you want me to.”
She looked at him. “Sometimes I don’t know what I want.” She turned her eyes to the stars again (…)
“I worry that I am eventually going to spoil what has become very comfortable between us.”
“Comfortable in some ways, excruciating in others.”
He leaned closer. “How is it excruciating for you? Tell me. I need to hear you say it. Perhaps it will be enough to satisfy me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to say it. I want to deny it, hide it away and bury it.”
“Burying it will not make it go away.”
“Perhaps it will in time,” she argued.
He sat back farther and sighed. “I don’t want it to.”
All of sudden her eyes were filling with tears, and she could not believe she was in danger of losing this battle she had been fighting for so long. “I don’t want it to end either.”
Closing her eyes, she rubbed her nose against his cheeks and lips, even while a part of her was still fighting to resist. She should not let him kiss her. She should put a stop to this now by returning to the house. But she knew she was not going to do that. She had traveled too far down this tempting path.
“Perhaps just one kiss,” she replied, touching her lips tentatively to his.
His hands cupped her face and he tilted his head to the side. Suddenly there was nothing tentative about it. He was devouring her with his open mouth, caressing her with his soft, skillful tongue. Her body melted against his as passion pounded from her heart to the very edges of her existence.
“I’m sorry, Cassandra,” he said, dropping hot kisses across her cheeks, her eyelids, her forehead. “I tried, but I cannot keep my hands off you. This madness I feel for you knows no bounds.”
“I feel it, too.” She could barely breathe enough to speak. “It doesn’t matter how much I try to resist, or how much I once hated you, I am powerless.”
“You don’t hate me now, do you?”
“No. I suppose I haven’t hated you for quite some time. All I want now is to feel your hands on me.”
He kissed her again and pressed his body tight against hers until they were both writhing with need on the riverbank.
“I must have you,” he said.
“Then what are you proposing, exactly? What do you expect from me in return?”
“As I said, I am offering you a house and an income, with nothing asked of you except . . . ” He paused, as if having a hard time getting the words out. “Except that you allow me to see June.”
She could have fallen off the seat. “Are you quite serious? The rake without a heart wants to see his daughter? You actually care to know how she is faring?”
“I am rather astounded by it myself,” he said in a contemptuous, detached voice as he looked toward the window. “But don’t get excited. It doesn’t mean I’m developing a conscience, nor does it mean I’m ever going to marry you, because I am not.”
“So you’ve said before. I don’t know why you feel the need to repeat it. I am quite aware that you are going to marry Lady Letitia, because evidently all that matters to you is your inheritance.”
“Indeed, my father adores her, and according to the terms of his will, he has the power to approve or reject my bride. So there it is in a nutshell. He would certainly never accept you.”
She felt the insult like a kick in the stomach.
“Besides,” he continued, “what an incompatible pair we would make. You believe blindly in the divine power of love, while my jaded eyes are wide open in that area.”
“I do not believe in it blindly. My eyes are quite wide open as far as you are concerned.”
He looked away and brought the subject back to where it began. “I am only putting forth this offer because I want to prevent my daughter from turning out like you. Forced to work in a hat shop, that is.”
She ignored his spiteful attempt to belittle her, and considered what he was proposing. “I suppose it would not be such a bad thing, to have an income. I would not have to be away from June.” Her voice became resigned. “I have struggled with that more than you can ever imagine.”
“Cassandra!”
She jumped when she heard him call her name.
“I apologize for what just happened,” he said, knocking her completely off balance yet again with words she had not expected. “I did make a promise to you. I gave you my word that I would not ask you for anything more than a chance to spend time with June. I should not have said those things in the library. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I am a devil and a rake. I know I am, but the strange thing is—it has never bothered me before now. I am beginning to wonder if you were placed into my life for some clear purpose, to give me a chance to behave honorably for once—as honorably as a man can behave with a former lover who has born him an illegitimate child.”
She had no idea what to say. All she could do was stand there in the hot, bright sunshine, looking down at the ground, realizing that his thoughts about being tested mirrored her own.
“I know I do not deserve it,” he said, “but can you forgive me?”
She looked up hesitantly. “I don’t know, Vincent. You say and do the most wicked things sometimes.”
his voice was resigned. “I shall offer no excuses, because even when I recognize how you value your honor, I still let you bring out the devil in me. I am learning that lust is a very powerful thing.”
“But you are no stranger to it.”
“You are wrong there, Cassandra. I am a stranger to what exists between us. It is the reason I did not read your letter a year ago, and why I avoided you—so that I would not run the risk of falling in love with you.”
She was speechless.
He wiped the back of his hand across the sparkling perspiration on his forehead and squinted down at the lake. “All I know is that there was an extraordinary spark between us from the beginning. Don’t you remember how it was that night?”
“Of course I do,” she confessed. “It made me insane—not just that night, but in the weeks following, when you would not see me.”
He sighed. “I must ask you again, Cassandra, can you forgive me? You are the mother of my child. I cannot bear for you to think me hopeless. I do not want to be hopeless.”
“A lot has happened since that night,” she said. “Our lives have changed and fate has placed us in a difficult predicament. You are engaged to another woman, you do not wish to let your brothers down, and I quite frankly do not wish to allow myself to believe that I could ever trust you. I would prefer to remain on guard.”
“Cassandra . . . ”
“We have each made our mistakes and now must live with the consequences. As for myself, I would like to do so without any further transgressions.”
“I should resent you,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because you make me want to be a better man, when it is so much easier not to care one way or another.”
“I see.” His mother moved around the room, her eyes trained on him. “Vincent, I will not waste your time or mine by asking if you love Lady Letitia. It is more than obvious to me that you do not, and thank God for that.”
He appreciated his mother’s candidness. There was no point in everyone going around pretending not to see what was as obvious as the floor under their feet.
“I also know,” she continued, “that you have never proposed to Lady Colchester.”
“That is correct.”
She strode toward him. “But is it possible you might be happier with her?”
Happier. It had been ages since he’d entertained the notion that happiness was attainable through romantic love. In fact, he had come to believe the opposite. Yet here he was, rolling around like a confused fool in his own emotions, examining his inner self, and resisting—denying—the love he felt for Cassandra.
Yes, it was love. As much as he did not welcome it, he was not completely ignorant of his heart.
“If you thought you could be happier with her,” his mother cautiously continued, “perhaps it is worth exploring the possibility that Lady Letitia might release you.”
Vincent turned away from his mother and sat down in a chair. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Bloody hell.”
“What is it, Vincent?”
He looked up and felt his eyes burning. “I do love her. Enough to die for her.”
His mother’s lips curled into a warm and joyful smile. “I am so pleased to hear it. So very pleased.”
But he bowed his head forward and shook it. “But I am not pleased to admit it. I did not want this. I still do not.”
“What do you want?”
“To fulfill my duty to my brothers and secure my inheritance,” he replied. “I did not want my life to change, and I knew it would remain exactly the same if I married Letitia. She is a female version of me. She is bitter and cynical. Hardhearted. In that way, we are perfect for each other.”
“But that is not the real you,” his mother told him.
“It has become the real me.”
She was quiet for a moment. “No, I refuse to believe that. If you were truly as hard-hearted as you think, you would have allowed Cassandra to leave that day with June, when she learned she would recover from her illness. You would not have gone after her at the train station. You would have let me be the one to provide her with a means of support. You would have washed your hands of her and of your daughter, and never seen either of them again.”
He frowned at what was unthinkable to him. “I could never have done that.”
She did not need to say anything more. She was right, and he knew it. There was something left of his heart.
“But would you have mistresses if she were your wife?”
As he stared at his mother, he felt himself plummeting like a bird from high in the sky.
“No. There would never be anyone but her.”
“I must confess to you,” he softly said, “that I would dearly love for June to know me as her father.”
Cassandra looked up at him. “Perhaps we can tell her the truth one day when she is old enough to understand and keep it secret.”
He took in a deep breath. “Or perhaps there will be another way.”
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head, for he was not yet free to propose, and he would not do it improperly. Not like this. He would first do what he must to make everything right. For her.
“I don’t know. Perhaps I am dreaming.” He turned his head on the pillow and touched her cheek with the tip of his finger. “What I do know, my darling, is that my heart is yours. Completely. Do you know that? Do you understand I do not ever want to be with anyone but you? That you satisfy me in every way a man can be satisfied?”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You satisfy me, too, Vincent. I have never felt so happy, even though I am also afraid.”
(...) God! He could not believe he was even thinking these things! In the past month he had been turned upside down on his ear. He wanted his daughter to know who he was, and he wanted Cassandra’s heart, promised to him forever—happily, willingly, respectably, without guilt, for the rest of their days. He wanted no other woman but her. He supposed it was all he had ever wanted as a younger man—to be a devoted husband and to marry for love.
“I know a scandal will be unavoidable. It is too late to keep it secret. Not only does her family and brother-in-law know of it, for they were the ones to toss her out into the street, but Letitia knows, too.”
“Only this: we will do what any sensible army would do in the face of such a foe. We will retreat from the battlefield, or in our case, go abroad or hide away in the country for a while. A long while. I have already purchased the perfect house, and to be honest, Devon, the scandal doesn’t frighten me. Society can go to the devil for all I care.”
“But what about Cassandra?” Devon said. “Perhaps it will matter to her. She might think herself unworthy and may not wish to sully our family name. She might be unhappy.”
“I will make her happy.”
“I have no doubt you will do your best, and perhaps love will be enough for the two of you. But what of June? Surely you would not wish to see her ostracized all her life. You have her future to think about as well.”
Vincent sank into a chair and exhaled a deep breath. “Perhaps in time it will blow over. It’s not as if no man has ever married his mistress before. It’s been done.
“She is hurt.” Concerned only with getting Cassandra to a warm, safe place, he pushed past his fiancée and continued down the corridor.
Letitia followed. “You shouldn’t have brought her here. Why didn’t you take her to the village?”
His arms were straining by the time he reached the door. “I told you she is hurt. Now open the door if you please.”
“I will not.”
He glared at her. “We will speak about this in the morning, Letitia, but right now you will do as I say and open this door.” His arms were beginning to shake.
“Is she dead?” Letitia asked. “I hope she is, and I hope she goes straight to Hell.”
He looked at her over his shoulder. “I think it would be best for everyone if you left the room.”
“No. I will not have you making love to your mistress right under my nose. I told you, this is my domain, not hers. She has no right to be here. Get her out.”
He straightened and faced her. “Lady Colchester is hurt and requires medical attention. She will
remain where she is.”
“She needs to die, that’s what she needs to do.”
Vincent regarded the shallow depths of his fiancée’s eyes with nauseating clarity.
Cassandra moaned. Turning quickly, he went to the bedside and brushed her hair off her face. He noted with horror that the pillow was already stained with blood. “Cassandra, darling,” he said, laboring to remain calm, “wake up, you were hit on the head.”
She did not respond. He gently patted her cheek, willing her eyes to open as the terrifying possibility of her death right there in front of him struck a deep chord in his gut. Wake up. Please wake up.
The server approached the table. Cassandra leaned back and asked for wine. When they were alone again, he wet his lips. “What did the letter say?”
She sat in silence, just looking at him, then at last began to explain. “I wrote to tell you that I now believe you were right that day in the library at Langley Hall, when you suggested there could be true fidelity of the heart without a written contract or a certificate of marriage. I have decided that I will not spend another minute resisting what is in my heart. I want to be with you, and I shall be brave. My worst fear was that you would break my heart one day, that I would have to share you with other women, but now I am willing to face that possibility. I do not need the contract between us to bind you to me forever. All I need is to love you, to give you my love. The passion we have between us, as we are, is enough, for however long it lasts.”
He stared at her closely across the table. “However long it lasts?” A deep pang of hurt and disappointment pulsed inside his chest. “I believe, Cassandra, that this is the first time since you came back into my life that you have ever truly sounded like a mistress.”
Cassandra’s wine arrived and was set down in front of her, but she could not move her hands to touch it.
“Perhaps I sound like a mistress,” she told him with a cool air, “because that is what I am. Though I must say, you have never made me feel ashamed of it. Not until now.”
He inhaled deeply. “That is because in my eyes you were always above that. And you have become much more than that.”
She paused. “Well, that, sir, is news to me.”
“I want you to be more,” he said.
She shifted uneasily. “What are you saying? How can I possibly be more, unless you want to make me your wife. But that cannot be.”
“Why not?”
“Because you have told me a dozen times—Le-titia is your perfect match. She will allow you to keep your freedom. And also, your father would never accept me. You would lose your inheritance. You would be letting down your brothers.”
“First of all, let us be clear. Letitia is not my perfect match. She was once, I suppose, when I was a different man, but she is no longer.”
His eyes were dark and determined as he leaned forward again. “What if I told you I don’t care what my father says or what my brothers think? Or society for that matter.”
“Then I would tell you that you are not thinking rationally because you are blinded by lust.”
“Lust?” he angrily retorted. “Do you still think that’s what this is about?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do I feel this more deeply than you?” he asked. “Tell me if that is the case, because if you are not willing to fight for what has become more than just lust between us, I will be grossly disappointed. Especially because all you’ve ever done before now is fight against it.”
She looked down at her glass of wine and finally picked it up to take a sip. Her hands were shaking. “I have been fighting against it because I was afraid I would end up with a broken heart. I still fear that, because there are so many forces against us.”
“I have fears, too,” he said. “I always will, but it doesn’t mean I will not fight against those forces that stand between us. I already have, Cassandra. I have told Letitia I will not marry her, that she can drag me through the papers and the courts and all the mud in England if she is so inclined.
It will not make a bloody difference to me. I will never be her husband.” (…)
“He knows you are my mistress, and that I love you.”
She couldn’t seem to move. All she could do was fumble frantically in her mind with those words he’d just said to her. I love you.
“Will you be my wife, Cassandra?” he asked. “Please say yes, because I want you forever as my mate, my friend, and my lover.”
“Cassandra Montrose, you are the great love of my life,” he said. “You have made me feel whole when I never knew it was possible to feel that way. All the missing pieces of my heart and my life came together inside of me when I met you. I do not ever wish to be without you. Will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”