A Measured Risk (36 page)

Her onyx brows drew together tightly. “But you haven’t listened to a word I have said.”

“Do you think you’re the only one who feels fear?

She looked shocked. “Of course you haven’t. You fear nothing.”

“Don’t you think I have found it uncomfortable, needing you to need me when you’ve fought me every inch of the way?”

She flinched under his frustrated tone. “Even the best woman cannot hope to hold a gentleman’s attentions for long. And I am far from being what a man expects in a woman. There has always been this discordance between what others expect and what I am able to deliver. I’ll disappoint you over and over. I could never bear that.”

He ought to have eased off but emotion pressed him. “For God’s sake, Nan, it’s not your place to try and fit some arbitrary expectation I have. That’s not how it works.”

“How does it work?”

He struggled for the right words. “We just live together and learn how to love each other.”

Her expression hardened. “Such things cannot be learnt.”

“Who says they cannot?”

“The ability to love others is either there or it isn’t. And in my case, it isn’t. I have never known how to love others properly. The way that will satisfy them enough to stay.”

“Nan, you must stop judging me by the same measure as William. He wasn’t the man for you. He bored you. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t really his either. It was just what happened.”

“I could believe you, if he were the only one. But I have always disappointed everyone.” Her voice became very small. “Everyone important to me.”

Her lovely eyes were twin pools of hurt. By God, he hated each and every one of those phantoms from her past that held her prisoner. He hated the duke. But he couldn’t change her past. Impotent uselessness burned his vitals. “Damn it, stop playing the dejected child. You haven’t disappointed me.”

“I will,” she said with certainty.

He took two steps forward and grasped her shoulders. “Will you get off your high ropes and listen to me?” He gave her a sharp shake and her eyes widened. “Anne, I am trying to tell you that I love you and I don’t want to live my life without you.”

She paled. “You don’t mean that. You can’t possibly. You’re shamming me, trying to get me to capitulate to your will, to go to Scotland, to marry you. But I am just a toy to you, a passing fancy, as are all a gentleman’s toys.”

“You’ll be my wife. Lady Ruel.”

“What will that mean, to be Lady Ruel? I used to have a position of responsibility at Whitecross. I was the lady of the manor. I am used to it. I want to live that way again. I want to be useful in the world again.”

“You shall be Countess of Ruel in every meaning of the title. In fact I shall expect it.”

“But you will make all the decisions.”

“I am not a neglectful lord in the way Cranfield was. I shall have the final say in all matters but
,
Anne
,
I shan’t be a tyrant either. You will have the same authority over my household as other wives of our station do. If not more so.”

“But in Ireland, I shan’t have to listen to anyone, save my own opinions.”

“You won’t be happy living like that. You weren’t happy living like that while Cranfield was alive. You want more from life. A husband, children.”

She compressed her lips and her chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I need no one. I never did.”

“What do you fear so terribly? I shall never deny you anything, nor override a decision you make without due and dire cause. I shall make sure your jointure is sound. The Irish horse farm will remain yours. Your personal wealth will remain yours alone. You may bequeath them as you choose. You will have personal liberty so long as your safety and

wellbeing are not in jeopardy.”

“I already have personal liberty, my Irish farm and all my wealth.”

“I know your fears. I made the same mistake, Nan. I have measured all marriage by that shared by my grandparents and other people I have known. But we have to be brave. We’ve been given something precious and rare.”

She looked him straight in the eye and did not flinch. “I can’t…I just can’t take the risk, Jon. I am sorry.”

His patience snapped. He made his voice firm, commanding, “We’re getting married. So go and pack what’s absolutely vital to you because I am taking you with me today, even if I have to sling you over my shoulder. Is that plain enough for you?”

“So you will order me—force me to marry you?”

“If that’s what it takes to break through your stubbornness.” He took firm hold of her chin.

“Don’t…” Her voice was raspy, pleading. She stared at him, wide eyed and still as if frozen in place.

He couldn’t help himself. He brought his mouth down on hers. Open, harsh, demanding.

 
Her lips trembled under his, closed, resisting.

He placed his hand at the angle of her jaw, pressing.

She opened her mouth and he thrust inside. The sweetness of her taste hit him like a force. Hunger for more swept through him. He groaned and deepened the kiss.

Her lush body melted against him. She moaned deep in her throat.

It was only a kiss. But he had longed for her every moment he’d been away. Now he couldn’t get enough of her.

Finally, the need to breathe broke them apart. She took gulps of air, her chest rising and falling against his, pressing her soft, full breasts into him. The feel of her ultra-feminine body moving against his sent a thrill through him. He pulled his face into the curve of her neck. “I love you Anne, God help me, I love you.”

She caught her breath, the little sound the only sign she’d heard him.

He raised his head and placed his hand at the base of her throat and tightened it, enjoying the feel of the delicate cords and her rapid pulse under his hand. Her very life under his hand, submissive and trusting as it always should be. “I’ll have my way in this, Anne. We shall be wed, and soon.”

Her throat moved under his hand as she swallowed deeply. Her eyes came open and the determination there sent a chill through his blood.

“I can’t think clearly, I don’t know what I think.” He heard the panic beneath her soft tones. “Please don’t press me on this.”

A vision of his grandfather bullying his grandmother, breaking down her resistance through the sheer force of his aggression flashed into his mind. It had forced his grandmother to resort to devious means to regain her sense of selfhood. Was that what he wanted with Anne? Would their house become a battlefield, their children unwilling pawns in a never-ending power struggle? Nausea twisted his stomach.

Coldness settled over him and he let his hand slide away from her. “So that’s it then? You’re going to Ireland and shutting yourself off to everything else?”

She glanced off to the side. “I want my own life—I must stand on my own. You simply have to understand.”

“You demand so much understanding, Anne, yet you never give any in return. You make no attempt to understand others nor do you allow them any trust. You’ve called me a liar and I am expected to stand and take that and to understand you. Well, I do not understand and I do not choose to even try.” He shook his head. “You have wrung me out. I begin to see it’s better if we do part ways.”

“Enough. You should go now.”

Damn. Had his hearing betrayed him? How could she dismiss him so coolly? Then he noted how rigidly she held herself. He studied her intently. Something flickered in her gaze. Something vulnerable. Scared.

“Why won’t you trust me, Anne?” He touched her arm, gently grasped it.

She glanced down. “It’s not just you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, I don’t trust myself either. I can’t…I can’t think through my own feelings. I need to understand them or else I am lost. I am not myself any longer.” She looked up at him, her eyes full of such confusion and pain, it put a pang in his own chest. “If I am not myself, if I cannot understand myself, I have nothing.”

“We all go through times when we don’t understand ourselves.”

“
I can’t bear it.
The highest activity a human being can attain is learning for understanding, because to understand is to be free.
The greatest pride, or the greatest despondency, is the greatest ignorance of one’s self.”

Spinoza. Christ. He was competing with an obscure man who’d been dead for over a century.

“Anne, those are the words of a man who lived a hermit’s life.”

 
Her look grew wild. “I won’t give myself up to be yours.”

“Oh my love…” He reflexively tightened his grip.

“No, you can’t ask me to either, Jon!” She pulled against his grip.

He had underestimated the most vital thing about her. Her emotions and sexuality might be his to control. In that way, she was like all most all the other women he’d known.

However, in a very important way, Anne wasn’t like the others. Not even Maria. Anne was a creature of intellect. Not like Maria’s worldly, cunning intellect, but rather an abstract and pure sort of intellect.

Anne would have to come to an intellectual realisation of her feelings and settle them against all her internalised, quirky little theories before she would consider them valid. She had to do it in her own time. His pressure was only forcing her further away. He’d issued his command. Now he had to give her some breathing space to sort out what she wanted. And she might end up deciding that she didn’t want him.

He had to take that risk. To give her that freedom or else he would be disrespecting the very nature that set her apart from others. The very nature that made her so fascinating to him.

The very nature that made him love her so much. He hated the lack of control over the situation. It was his way to press his agenda until the other person relented. Backing off would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, however she was a rare woman.

Rare, precious things did not come easily.

He released her.

He bent and picked up Tiberia’s leash. Then he walked to Anne and handed it to her. “If you need me, send for me. I shall always be a friend to you, my Lady Cranfield.”

He walked away, resisting the urge to turn back.

Chapter Twenty

Anne watched the endless miles of misty, rainy countryside pass by the window.

“Four hours now my lady, shouldn’t we stop for something to eat?”

“Our luncheon stop is coming up soon.”

Nellie nodded and returned to her sewing.

Though Anne’s nerves stretched taut, she was enduring this. Surviving it.

This was her moment of personal victory.

And yet she felt hollow inside.

 
She wished with all her being that Jon could have shared this moment with her. Teasing her. Bullying her. Seducing her into all sorts of distracting and pleasurable nonsense. Moreover, she wanted him by her side when she saw her little sister for the first time. Because…because she feared the child might not like her. That this sister would be disappointed by that mysterious thing within her that disappointed everyone. For a moment, shamefully, she wanted to call the carriage back around. To have Nellie and her brother fetch the child. She wanted to protect herself, against the rejection of a mere child.

Had the duke felt this way? Did fear of being scorned for something in his nature, this coolness, this self-protection keep him ensconced in his study, peering over his books and giving his affections only to his dogs?

Sudden pain wrenched her chest. Pity. For the duke. For herself.

“Oh
,
Papa
.
” She mouthed the words and gazed out of the window at the misty rain, knowing he would never
,
ever hear her now. Her understanding had come too late for him.

The only way she had ever disappointed others had been in holding herself back from them. And she had hurt Ruel with her will. Just as she had hurt William.

Yes, hurt.

Oh God…she closed her eyes with the realisation.