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“You don't know,” Blake said, shaking his head. “You don't know what it's like to love.”
“And you know all too well,” James murmured. “In fact, you've known twice.”
“Blake,” Penelope said softly, putting her hand on his arm. “I know you loved her. We all loved her. But Marabelle wouldn't have wanted you to go on like this. You're just a shell. You buried your soul along with hers.”
Blake swallowed convulsively, wanting more than anything to flee the room, yet somehow he remained rooted to the spot.
“Let her go,” Penelope whispered. “It's time, Blake. And Caroline loves you.”
His head whipped around. “She said that?”
Penelope wanted to lie. He could see it in her eyes. But finally she shook her head. “No, but it's easy to see.”
“I won't hurt her,” he vowed. “She deserves better.”
“Then marry her,” Penelope implored.
He shook his head. “If I marry her…God, I'd hurt her in more ways than you could imagine.”
“Bloody hell!” James burst out. “Stop being so damned afraid. You're afraid of loving, you're afraid of living. The only bloody thing you're not afraid of is death. I'll give you one night. One night only.”
Blake narrowed his eyes. “For what?”
“To make up your mind. But I promise you this: I will marry Caroline if you don't. So ask yourself if you'll be able to bear that for a lifetime.”
James turned on his heel and stalked from the room.
“He's not making an idle threat,” Penelope said. “He's quite fond of her.”
“I know that,” Blake snapped.
Penelope gave him a brief nod, then walked to the door. “I'll leave you to your thoughts.”
That, Blake thought bitterly, was the last thing he wanted.
