Page 34 of Betrothal Between Enemies

‘Unintentionally,’ she countered. ‘You cannot control what others do.’

‘But I affect them all the same, because I have status and money to leverage or not, as I see fit.’ Alistair rubbed his brow. How to use his influence was the real dilemma. It had taken coming to Naples to realise it. At home in Devon, he merely ignored it. But here, he had to face it. ‘Either way I turn, I cannot escape impacting others. On the one hand, those farmers in Devon were not helped by me. I nearly lost their savings by starting something I could not finish. On the other, how many people have been unintended victims of my doing nothing, creating nothing? Who might have been helped if I had extended myself?’ That was what he wanted to do here in Naples—take the chance and extend himself, help others in ways that mitigated their risk. Leaving Ismay meant he had to give it up.

‘When your father looked at me tonight, I was ashamed of my behaviour.’ He held her gaze steadily, intently. ‘Not just my brazen public behaviour, but my behaviour in private, with his daughter.’

‘With me?’ Ismay stood, unexpected anger flashing in her eyes. ‘You’re ashamed of me? It’s a little late for that.’

He rose quickly, stalling her temper with his touch, his words. ‘No, you misunderstand. I’m not embarrassed by you, or by us at all. Quite the opposite, in fact. What embarrasses me, Ismay, is how I have treated our affections—carrying on behind closed doors, scurrying around in secret, making love to you in your parents’ home behind their backs, treating this as if it were just another affair.’

‘This is just an affair, Alistair. It is going to end.’

That shield he’d detected at the beach was being fully employed now. He would not let her hide behind it tonight. This was too important. ‘That makes you feel safe, doesn’t it, knowing that this will end? You tell yourself it doesn’t have to mean anything. That you don’t have to invest yourself. You think it gives you permission to make love with me and not acknowledge your feelings.’

‘I have invested my heart before, and it has not worked out. You, of all people, with your three-month mistresses, should understand that.’

‘And I want to change that. I want to try for something different with you, Ismay. There were no feelings, and now there are. I, for one, won’t dismiss that. I do not want to stay behind my shield. Don’t stay behind yours. I know you’re scared. I’m scared, too. But I am more afraid of leaving and not exploring what we might have.’ Would she feel the same? Would she understand how much courage it took to say that or how long he’d wrestled with accepting that? What if he failed at this? She was not the only one afraid, but he might be the only one willing to try.

She seemed to draw herself up taller. ‘All feelings aside, Alistair, it’s what we decided. You are breaking the contract. Tonight’s efforts will be for naught. Tonight, will in fact have been pointless.’

‘Grounds for the contract have changed. I have discovered tonight that all feelings cannot be set aside. It’s not possible, Ismay, and you know that. We did not intend feelings when we began this, but they do exist nonetheless. This is no longer an affair, and you know that, too. What if we don’t want this to end after all? Look me in the eye and tell me you do not care for me.’ He’d not meant to challenge her, but once the words were out, there was no backing down. They were at the Rubicon now, and he was daring her to cross, to join him in this new territory.

Her eyes flashed sea-green fire. ‘I do care for you, Alistair. No one is more surprised than me about that. But it changes nothing. Caring for you does not mean we should change our course. Perhaps it reinforces all the more that we should stay that course. We care for each other enough to set ourselves free from this trap our parents have laid.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Or maybe you don’t care for me enough to give me that? Perhaps here at the last, you are thinking of yourself and all you gain if you stay.’ Anger flashed like green lightning in her eyes. She swallowed hard. He could see her throat work, could see her reach her conclusions. ‘Damn you, Alistair Burke-Price. You promised me you’d leave. You gave me your word. And damn me, too, for believing you meant it when I know better.’ She tried to pull her hands away, but he held tight. If he let go of her right now, she might go entirely.

He held on to her for dear life—his life. He would not let her classify him with the men who’d failed her. Dear God, he would say the words if that was what it took. ‘Ismay, if I want to stay, it is because I love you, and you love me even if you’re too damn stubborn to admit it.’ God, he hoped he was right about that last part. If she wouldn’t believe his words, perhaps she’d believe his body.

Chapter Nineteen

His mouth crashed down on hers, the strength of his body bearing them backwards to the wall. She came up hard against him and her better judgement. The last thing she ought to do was make love while she was angry. But her hands were tearing at his cravat just as his were shoving her skirts up in great handfuls of silk and lace, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was angry or who she was angry at. Him because he’d said the words, or her because she believed them. Or because she was too scared to believe them. Far better to believe the worst of him or to believe that sticking to the plan was the only chance they had for true happiness.

She made a fist and pounded at his chest, biting out words between rough kisses. ‘How. Dare. You. Say. You. Love. Me. Not now when we are so close to the end, when we can have everything we wanted. You are changing the rules.’

‘How dare you not believe me,’ Alistair growled, hips grinding against her, his mouth hot at her neck, his hand busy between their legs with his clothing. Her own core was sweating for him, wanting him to hurry in the hopes that sex could outpace anger, that there might be some clarity in the climax that most assuredly waited them.

‘How dare you—’ She gasped the last of her resistance for form’s sake. She no longer knew what she accused him of, everything, nothing. Of loving her, not loving her, of using her body to vent his frustrations, of changing a plan that might have been flawed from the start… She felt fabric shift, his straining member free at last. She hitched a leg about his hip, her breathing ragged and rapid. He lifted her to him, spearing her with a swift, glorious assault, obliterating in its roughness. This was a fierce meeting of bodies, punishing and purging in its intensity. Climax came rapid and raging. She was a rag doll in the aftermath, too grateful for the support of his body, the strength of his arms. It was a mystery how he managed it. His own breathing came in jagged shards, and there was sweat on his brow.

She’d brought him to this just as he’d brought her, and there was guilt aplenty for the both of them. If he was ashamed of his behaviours, she was ashamed of hers. Mostly, she was ashamed of having brought him to this point where he hated himself because of her. And yet his remorse tonight was all the proof she needed that she was right. She could not make him happy, not in the sense of a forever happiness. Why couldn’t he see that? He was unhappy even now because she’d demanded it of him. It had nothing to do with the ruse. The ruse was simply to persuade her parents she and Alistair were unsuited to life together. There were many ways that might have been accomplished, but for her sake, he’d chosen a way that would spare her the burden of social scrutiny by taking all the blame himself.

‘What are you thinking, Iz?’ His voice was a hoarse rasp at her ear as he set her down far more gently than he’d picked her up.

She found her feet. ‘I was thinking just how truly bad we are for each other. Just look at us, fighting and rutting like stags in mating season. It’s best that we shall be done with this soon. We’d tear each other apart if it went on much longer.’ She tried for a smile, for a laugh, and failed at both.

Alistair’s eyes were desire-dark. ‘I think we’ve already done that.’ There was hurt in his gaze. She’d once thought it was impossible to hurt him. Perhaps that was her fault, too. In a few months he’d look back and realise what a narrow escape he’d had—that they’d both had.

He stepped back from her, slowly tucking in his shirt and adjusting his trousers, his gaze tortured with pain and with hope—hope that she’d change her mind as he’d changed his. ‘Is that what you truly want? I am yours to command.’ Eleven words that held her future, their future, and meant so much more. What do you want me to do tomorrow? If there is an ounce of redemption left for me with your father or if you truly want the engagement broken, my actions tomorrow at the horse race must signal those intentions. Am I to be redeemable, or I am a reprobate beyond resurrection?

She smoothed the lace overnet of her gown, hoping it would hide the rumpled silk beneath, buying herself time. He was asking her to decide the impossible: the fate of another—more than that, the fate of someone she cared for, and he was hoping she’d choose him. Her conscience rallied. Do not be weak. Do not stray from the plan. Do not be clouded by angry sex against a wall and words he said but did not justify when you challenged him. She drew a shaky breath. Eddington had given guests a tour of the stable earlier in the evening, keen on showing off his entry for the race tomorrow, a mare named Black Diamond’s Promise. The horse was a long shot, an attractive, black, unproven Napoletano who was not perceived to be the equal of the field and certainly not the equal of Lord Danton’s regal chestnut thoroughbred from England, Lorenzo.

‘Place a large bet on Eddington’s horse, Black Diamond’s Promise,’ she said softly, hoping to ease his pain with her tone, even if her words could not. His beautiful eyes shuttered. She’d sealed their fate, taken his hope.

‘I’d already planned to,’ he said matter-of-factly, as if he hadn’t just asked her to contemplate a life together and she’d refused.

She cleared her throat trying to match his sang-froid. ‘Will you come back to the party with me?’

‘No. I think I will walk home. Tell your parents I’ve gone on ahead.’

Alarm knifed through her. ‘Walk? In the dark? Are you insane? The streets are not safe this time of night, and you will stand out as a worthy target.’ She meant his clothes, the sapphire ring that glinted back on his finger and the fact that he was alone. It wouldn’t take much to outnumber him.

‘I will be fine. If I feel unsafe, I will hail a cab.’ He reached into his pocket. ‘But I would feel better if you took at least some of the money from tonight’s winnings. There’s something I mean to do with the rest of it.’