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Ambrose Hartfield was a pragmatic man in every way. He was a successful businessman who knew his own mind and had a will of iron. Romantic love was not on the agenda for him. But how could she justify indulging in this passion with him without even the possibility of it? Wouldn’t she be betraying everythingshebelieved in?
Delia turned her face away. It was all so confusing that she couldn’t think straight. And it was beyond complicated. She couldn’t tell him who she really was. Even if he wanted to pursue something serious with her, it was destined for heartbreak. For how could she keep up a pretence forever that she was someone else?
And now, it has grown more complex because of our intimacy, she thought in despair.For he may feel betrayed that I am still hiding it from him. That I do not trust him with my secret.
Could she trust him with it?
But she quickly pushed that thought aside. If he was declaring love for her and wished to marry her, it would be different. But he wasn’t. As far as she knew, she and Ambrose Hartfield would go their separate ways as soon as this journey was over. They would probably never see each other again.
She took a deep breath. She couldn’t afford to betray herself to him. She had no idea what he would do with the information. For all she knew, he might get in contact with her father and tell him where she was, out of misguided concern for her. He might think he was doing her a favour.
He wanted her. He was as consumed by desire as she was. But he didn’t love her. She must be careful and protect herself. Her very survival depended upon it.
“We must get back to the coach,” she repeated, pulling herself out of his arms. She didn’t know how to answer his question. She didn’t know what the right thing was to do at all.
This is madness, a small voice whispered in her ear.You must end what is between you. For your own safety…and sanity.
He looked disappointed. But he nodded.
Slowly, they made their way back to the coach. Delia tried not to look at him. When they climbed back into the carriage, ready to depart, she kept her hands firmly clasped in her lap. It seemed for the best…even if it broke a slight piece of her heart to do it.
Chapter 22
Ambrose stared out the carriage window. The snow had intensified since their short break. It was swirling around the coach like a banshee. The coach creaked and groaned beneath the pressure of it. The only good thing about it was the driver was forced to go slower to deal with it, instead of hurtling along these rough roads at a breakneck pace like he usually did.
He knew he should be cursing the slower pace, as it meant he would get back to Bradford even later. But he couldn’t. For now, he was beginning to rue the end of this beleaguered journey. The end would mean that Delia was no longer with him.
He had grown so used to her presence by his side that he was sure it would feel like he was severing a limb when it ended. And his desire for her was intensifying by the hour now. The brief interlude where they had indulged that desire hadn’t slaked the thirst for her. Not by a long shot. It was still like an insatiable itch inside him that demanded to be scratched.
But how could he lie with her and then walk away from her at the end of the trip?
Would he even be able to?
He ran a hand over his face. There would probably not be another opportunity to actually make love to her properly anyway. He knew they were travelling through Derbyshire now—a third of the way through the journey. If all went well, they would reach Bradford late tomorrow. They might stop for short breaks before then, but it wasn’t enough time to make love to her the way he wanted to. Not in the way that she deserved. For he was sure now that she was a maiden, and he couldn’t take her pressed against a tree.
Perhaps he must try to see her after they arrived in Bradford.
He frowned, feeling conflicted. But if he did that, would she expect more from him than he could possibly give her? He knew she was a romantic who wanted to fall in love and marry for love. If they became lovers, would she expect that of him? He had no time for a wife. And passion faded. They might be terribly incompatible, and then he would be stuck in a marriage that was unhappy and doomed.
He barely knew her. The desire was intense and far stronger than he had ever felt before, but it still didn’t mean that they would be good life companions. How could he toy with her like that? He would probably end up breaking her heart. She would despise him when she realised he wouldn’t marry her. She might even think herself ruined and any prospect for a good marriage gone because she was no longer a maiden. She would blame him for that, as well.
He felt a sinking, sickening feeling of disappointment. It seemed he must say farewell to her at the end of this trip and never experience the thrill of lying with her. Miss Delia Parker was not a woman to be dallied with in such a way.
The itch must remain unscratched. Forever.
The carriage lurched suddenly, so that he almost jolted out of his seat. The other passengers all clung to their seats, looking worried. The wind howled around the carriage.
“This snow doesn’t look good,” remarked Mr Hawkins in a gloomy voice, staring out the window. “It is fast approaching a storm.”
Miss Tilney nodded. “Indeed. I have been in snowstorms before, and I recognise the signs.” She sighed. “The driver may have to pull over and stop.”
Everyone groaned at the thought of another lengthy delay. But Ambrose didn’t. His heart soared just a little at the thought of possibly spending more time with Delia.
What is happening to me? I must get back to my factory. Why am I celebrating another possible delay? This is madness!
But he couldn’t deny it. His desire for Delia was stronger than his desire to get home and back to work. It had never happened before—it was completely unprecedented.
He glanced quickly at her. She was looking down at her hands, which were firmly clasped on her lap. She refused to look back at him.
