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He felt ashamed. He knew she was speaking the truth and that she was brave to do so. The possibility of desire deepening into something else was not something to be feared for her but something to be longed for. His heart twisted. If only it were such an easy thing for him.
But it wasn’t, and he couldn’t turn himself into a man he wasn’t for her. Fervently, he wished he could. For Delia Parker—or whoever she was—would be worth it. Mr Giles had remarked upon it, and Mr Giles was right. She was a remarkable woman in so many ways. It wasn’t just her great physical beauty. There was much more to Delia than only that. The thought of losing her once they got to Bradford filled him with melancholy.
“You know, wecouldsee each other in Bradford,” he said, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I would like to do so very much.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “You mean we could conduct an affair?”
“Yes,” he said, colour flooding his face. “If you desired to. God knows I would love to do so, Delia. I want you more than any other woman I have ever desired.”
She was silent for a moment. His heart started beating wildly. He knew he shouldn’t have put her on the spot like that, but he just couldn’t help it. The thought of losing her had overwhelmed him.
“Let us be perfectly clear about what you are suggesting,” she said, raising her chin. “You are asking me to become your mistress or lover?”
His colour deepened. “Yes. That is exactly what I am asking.”
She shook her head incredulously. “You dishonour me, Ambrose. I am not that kind of woman, and I willnevercompromise myself in that way!”
He felt so ashamed of himself that he swore beneath his breath, turning away from her. What a fool he had been to indulge in that second of madness. He knew she wouldn’t be receptive to it. It was the whole reason he had decided to end this in Bradford. Delia was simply not the type of woman to do such a thing as she said. She was still a maiden, for pity’s sake.
“Why are you so against falling in love?” she asked in a tremulous voice. “I really would like to know. It cannot just be about your commitment to your work.” She took a deep, ragged breath. “What has happened to make you spurn any deeper feeling than desire?”
He gaped at her. “Nothing has happened. I do not know what you mean.”
“Have it your way,” she said in a tight voice. “I am trying to get you to open up to me and speak honestly. But you have no wish to do so.” She paused. “I will not become your mistress, Ambrose. So yes, we must stay away from each other. I hope you respect my wishes.”
She turned and walked out of the stables, back to the inn. He gazed after her, feeling foolish and small. He had offended her. It was the last thing he had wanted to do.
Suddenly, even the confines of the stable were too much. He needed to walk. He headed out into the raging snowstorm, burying his hands into the pockets of his coat, trying to fight the wind. It was useless, of course, but he kept on. The weather seemed to match his mood exactly. Outside, it was turmoil…and inside, it was precisely the same.
He got as far as he could when he suddenly sagged, leaning against a tree. He couldn’t see two paces in front of him. He was surrounded by a world of white fury. Abruptly, he clenched his hand into a fist, slamming it into the trunk of the tree.
He didn’t want to be here. Heshouldn’tbe here. He should have been back in Bradford days ago, leading his regular life. Instead, he was stuck here, in a turmoil of unfamiliar emotions that threatened to rise and choke him.
I don’t want this, he thought, through gritted teeth.I don’t want any of it.
Suddenly, he sagged against the tree again. He was remembering something he had pushed so far to the back of his mind that he had almost forgotten about it entirely. But now, it was rearing up again like a spectre, surrounding him just like the snow….
He had been only eighteen when he had seen her. A green lad in so many ways. A lad who was playacting at being a man.
She had swept into his life suddenly, as if on a wind. She was a flower seller that he noticed as he walked to one of his three jobs. She had never been there before. It was as if she had simply sprung to life like one of her flowers. She had long chestnut brown hair, blue eyes, and a wide smile.
He learned through friends that her name was Katie. She was from Liverpool. She was a bit older than him—in her early twenties. To him, she was a fully formed woman, while the females that surrounded him were mere girls. He quickly became infatuated with her, stopping to loiter across the road from her stall, purely to catch a glimpse of her.
People started noticing and teasing him about it, of course. His friends pushed him to ask her to a local dance. But he was too shy, preferring to adore her from afar. The infatuation was so intense that he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He fancied himself in love with her. He imagined lying with her, marrying her, having a family with her. He wanted to spend his entire life with her.
Eventually, unable to endure the torment any longer, he plucked up the courage to approach her. He stammered as he asked her to a dance at the local hall. She looked amazed, then patted him on the hand, telling him in a condescending voice that she only went out with men, not boys.
It was the most humiliating moment of his life.
The worst of it was that the next day, Katie started stepping out with a local man. He saw them together constantly. To add salt to the wound, the man was a lout, not fit to wipe her shoes. But Katie didn’t seem to care. Within a few months, they were engaged. They decided to move to Katie’s hometown. And he never saw her again.
The humiliation mixed with jealousy to such a degree that he came to believe he hated her. But how could he? He hadn’t even known her. She had never given him a chance. He had learnt a valuable lesson.
For ithadbeen a lesson. A life lesson to never fall in love. He was happy with desire, but he never became infatuated with a woman again. He told himself that indulging in feelings with women was fraught with danger. And it had been easy to do it. He was so busy working that it took all his time and energy. Women were a distraction. He indulged his carnal desires, but that was as far as it went.
It worked. He had never had feelings towards a woman again. Until now….
Ambrose came back to reality with a thud. He was standing in a furious snowstorm with a hand aching from punching a tree. But it didn’t hurt as much as remembering the humiliation of that time all those years ago when he had made himself vulnerable to a woman, and she had rejected him.
