“Oui,” she whispered, her heart breaking. She’d allowed her desires to guide her. Her self-serving decisions were no better than those of the gentry she abhorred.
With a curse, he prowled the chamber, pausing where a small table held their uneaten fare. Colyne turned. Deep lines dredged his face, but his eyes . . . Her breath faltered.Mon Dieu, his eyes were raw with hurt.
“How could you allow me to take what by right belongs to another?”
Marie straightened her shoulders. She deserved his wrath. “I never believed I would experience what you have made me feel. When I did. . .” She shook her head. “I am sorry.”
His eyelids narrowed as he stepped closer, his body towering over hers. “Sorry? You kept me ignorant of your betrothal because you wanted me? Bedamned! My feelings are nae something to be used on a whim!”
She swallowed hard. Except for not revealing the contents of the missive he carried, Colyne had been nothing but truthful. “I never meant to—”
“How can you dismiss your pledge to another man and nae understand the gravity of such a decision?”
“I was desperate.” Her reason sounded weak even to herself.
He scoffed. “Desperate?”
His gaze burned into hers, and then he shook his head with a frustrated sigh. “Are you nae aware that your betrothed will realize that you have been with another man when you go to his bed?”
“It will matter not to him.” A sad fact she’d long since come to accept. She could have been hideous, crippled, or a harlot having known the favors of numerous men, and for the royal connection, they still would have sought her hand.
“Your betrothed will nae care?” Colyne arched a skeptical brow. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It is difficult to explain.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Try.”
What should she tell him? That he’d been the first man who’d cared for who she was and not for her birthright? Or that for the firsttime in her life, she had grown to cherish every moment spent with a man who was not her father?
And as horrible as her actions in giving herself to Colyne were, a part of her, however wrong, would savor the love they’d made. If he walked away and never spoke to her again, at least she would have the memory of this night.
“My father . . .” So caught up in the passion flaring between them, she’d not considered her father’s reaction if he learned of the loss of her innocence. He would be furious with her, more so in light of her betrothal. And what would he do to Colyne?
Have him imprisoned?
Killed?
She couldn’t allow Colyne to bear punishment for her sins. He’d only taken what she’d freely offered. Any wrong was hers to bear, but would her father view it as such?
Marie stared at him, unsure, hurting, and afraid. With his life possibly in danger, she couldn’t reveal her father’s title. But Colyne deserved some explanation. Neither would she expect forgiveness.
“Your father?” he prodded.
Taking a deep breath, she scraped together her composure as taught by the years of being a king’s daughter. She found it heartbreaking at how calm and poised she could be when her entire life lay crumpled at her feet. “My father arranged the marriage.”
He gave a curt nod. “ ’Tis common.”
“It would be, except he gave me the right to choose the man I wed.” She hesitated, damning what she must say, words he deserved to hear but would never truly understand. “I do not love him, nor have we met.”
He unfolded his arms from his chest. “Your father gave you a choice to marry for love, yet you promised yourself to a stranger?”
The heat of his words and the disbelief made her want to curl into a ball and weep. “I never expected to meet someone like you.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “After my time spent with you, I find it hard to believe you would have settled for anything in your life.”
She exhaled. “I was tired of men falsely trying to gain my attention, and treating me as if I were a simpleton. Though I do not love my betrothed, my father assured me he shall treat me with respect. The other men . . .”
“The other men!”
