“You thought you could have sex with me, and then just walk away? You only wanted me for my body?” He sounded so aghast, so disgusted by the entire idea, that she almost wanted to laugh. Maybe she would have if she didn’t understand how difficult this was for him, how much he truly must care. But she had probably been the only woman in his whole to be the one to walk away. His pride was probably hurt more than anything, and that was far easier to live with than thinking she’d truly broken his heart.
Heat flushed her cheeks, and she couldn’t look at him. “Can you just leave? I want you to leave.”
Silence filled the space between them for an impossibly long moment before he finally rose from the bed and pulled his clothes on in jerky angry motions she caught out of the corner of her eye. When he was dressed, he hesitated, staring at her with a look of confusion and hurt on his handsome face before he sighed and turned away.
“You’re making a mistake,” he said over his shoulder as he reached the door. “And when you’re ready to admit it, you know where to find me.”
Then he left, slamming the door behind him.
She stood there for a long moment, tears streaming down her face, before she finally sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Part of her wanted to run after him and beg him to come back. She could foolishly convince herself that he meant what he said and that he might love her even if she couldn’t give him a child. But another part of her had meant some of what she’d said. She’d been under the duke’s thumb for so long, but the widows had taught her how much more there was to life. She’d never thought he’d want to marry her. She’d truly believed they could just be lovers.
Why couldn’t he have been happy with that? Why must he insist on marrying her when it could never work?
But how was she supposed to live without him, now that she knew how very good a relationship between them could be?
Chapter Seven
By the time Roman reached home, fury emanated from him in a palpable wave. His anger was so big it frightened him. He couldn’t believe he’d been foolish enough to fall for Clarice’s manipulative games once more. How could he have been so stupid?
He’d thought last night had been wonderful and had foolishly imagined the future he’d always wanted with her. But all along, she’d just been toying with him. In fact, it seemed that all she’d wanted from him had been sex. The irony of it all would have had him rolling with laughter if it didn’t hurt so much.
Storming into his office, he poured himself a stiff drink of whisky and downed it in one long drink, uncaring that it was only half past nine.
Why did Clarice tangle his emotions so? Why did he want the one woman who had always been so elusive? Was that it? Did he just have a propensity for chasing after things he could never have?
“Rough night?” Collette asked from the doorway, giving him a once-over that seemed to see into his very soul.
He sighed and poured himself another drink. “Do you want one?” he asked, nodding toward the bottle.
“It’s nine-thirty in the morning,” she chided gently.
“I didn’t ask what time it was,” he snapped, taking his glass and sitting down behind his desk. Part of him didn’t want to talk about it, but another part of him was glad his cousin was here to pry it out of him. He could use another woman’s opinion on Clarice’s erratic behavior since it made absolutely no sense to him.
“So, I take it your evening didn’t go well?” Collette asked, sitting across the desk from him, completely unfazed by his mood.
“It went very well,” he told her with a sigh, thinking of the magical evening he’d spent in Clarice’s arms. “Right up until it didn’t.” He then proceeded to tell her all about what Clarice had done this morning.
“I think she’s afraid,” Collette said sagely when he was done. “I think that the love and passion between you overwhelmed her, and her first instinct was to push you away.”
Roman steepled his fingers, looking at his cousin as he tried to make sense of what she was saying. Could that be possible? Could it have been a surplus of emotion rather than the lack thereof that had made Clarice order him to leave?
“She started pulling away when I said something about children,” he mused, trying to break down her actions now that his anger had cooled somewhat. “I told her it didn’t matter to me, but she was definitely troubled after that. Do you think that’s it? That she thinks I really care about that, even though I said I didn’t?”
“She was unable to give the duke an heir,” Collette reminded him. “I’m certain he wasn’t happy about that. He probably made her feel like a failure over something she had no control over.”
The last of his bad feelings evaporated as he thought about how hard it must have been for her, so young to be saddled with an old man who wanted nothing from her but a child. A child she’d never been able to give him. And from what little he’d managed to gather during their lovemaking, the duke had never done anything to give her pleasure.
“She did say something about not being able to give me an heir,” he muttered, taking a sip of his drink and this time savoring the fiery burn that made its way to the pit of his stomach. Strange, but he’d never really considered a child of his own before, not until the woman he loved had told him she could never give that to him. He had to admit that when he’d thought about a future between them, he’d always imagined children would be a part of it. Could he truly be all right with forfeiting all plans of a family of his own?
Maybe she was right to worry.
“Are you content with having one night with her?” Collette asked softly. “Or do you want to make this work?”
“I want to make this work,” he muttered. “Of course, I do.”
Collette smiled at him as though he were a dense child. “Then don’t let her push you away. Give her a few weeks to think about it, and then find a way to see her again. Tell her none of that matters to you.”
He laughed and toasted her with his glass. “You make it sound so easy.”
