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She pushed the thought out of her mind. It would serve no purpose to think like that except to torture her further. He had hurt her , made a fool out of her , and that was all that mattered.

After a week spent languishing in her room and avoiding her family, Sian grew restless and decided to go for a ride.

Perhaps having to focus on managing a horse instead of her bitterness would help her shake some of her despondency.

Once in the saddle, one could not allow their feelings to control them for fear of making their mount nervous.

She refused to take Angel, who reminded her too much of Christopher, and instead chose a gelding in his twilight years, as reliable as any horse she had ever seen.

No sense in taking risks just because Christopher had been exposed as an even worse rogue than everyone thought. On Clover’s back, she would be safe.

The gallop did help, as did the fresh air rushing through her hair, wiping her tears, and blowing away some of her pain. Then, just as she was dismounting to allow the gelding a drink in the river, movement in the distance caught her eye. Copper sparks appeared through the undergrowth.

Was she dreaming?

Of course she was not. She would have known that tall, forbidding shape anywhere. Hadn’t she spent years looking for it on the horizon? Hadn’t it become more familiar than her own shadow?

Christopher.

The usurper.

The deserter.

At any other time, she would have gone—perhaps even run—to him.

Today, all she could do was remain rooted to the spot and wait for him to come near if he dared.

He did dare, first jumping from the saddle and then eating the distance between them with long, graceful strides she couldn’t help but admire.

He stopped in front of her, both eyes equally bright.

Even the brown one seemed piercing for once.

What was he doing there? It had been a week since she and her father had gone to Throckmorton Castle to be told the man she was supposed to marry was not who everyone thought he was and would never come back, a week since she’d been told that her life as she knew it was over.

Sian had not thought to see him again. His deception unveiled, he had vanished, abandoned her without a second thought.

During the week she’d spent in bed, reliving her conversation with the real Lord Ashton, there had been no word of Christopher.

She had no idea whether he was still in Kent.

Would he ever come back? Lord Ashton had hinted that he would not.

Well, apparently, he’d been wrong because Christopher was most definitely here.

What did it mean? Dare she hope she’d been wrong and it was all a misunderstanding?

Had he come back to beg her forgiveness and assure her he still intended to honor his promise to her?

Her heart started to beat unbearably fast in her chest because if he did, she suspected she would forgive him.

The usurpation of identity didn’t worry her.

As long as he wanted to be with her, it didn’t matter who he was, what he had done, or why.

And perhaps there was a good reason for him to have impersonated the man.

He’d been accused of the worst villainy once, of forsaking his unborn child and its mother, and the accusation had been proved to be a lie fabricated to take advantage of him and his status.

Could there be an explanation for his posing as Lord Ashton? It was not impossible.

She should not have left Throckmorton Castle so hastily the other day; she should have demanded to be told what was going on.

After the shocking revelation that Christopher was gone and had lied about his real identity, she had been so upset, so unable to carry out any semblance of conversation that her father had had no other choice but to take her home.

But now, she was regretting it. The man—Lord Ashton—had offered no explanation.

Let Christopher do it then.

“Sian.” He allowed his gaze to wander over her, taking in her disheveled state and the look in her eyes, which she assumed reflected her state of confusion. “You’ve heard, then.”

This opening did not impress her. Was that the best he could do? A flat statement, certainly no denial, and no apology either. She was incredulous. Did he really think his deception mattered little as long as he had come back for her? That she was not owed an explanation?

She could manage only a nod, followed by a single word. “Yes.” She knew who he was, or rather who he was not.

“Then you know why I cannot marry you.”

Sian felt as if a crossbow bolt had hit her square in the chest. He could not marry her? She knew no such thing! She’d been told by the real Lord Ashton that Christopher had lied about his identity for years, but that was quite a different thing, as anyone would agree.

“You …” she started, not quite knowing what to say or how to say it. Her whole body, including her tongue, seemed to have gone liquid at the realization that he had not come back for her, that he had abandoned her even if he was here in front of her. She could barely stand or speak for shock.

“I am not Lord Ashton, never have been, so it?—”

“I don’t care if you’re Lord Ashton or not!”

That was true, even if the deception had hurt her. But, ultimately, she cared not who Christopher was. All she cared about was that he was hers.

“Well, I care. And I cannot marry you now. Surely, you understand.”

“Understand?” she roared. “No, I do not understand why you would agree that we should get married and then go back on your promise a few weeks later. I do not understand why you would not trust me with your secret, why it amused you to play me for a fool! I understand nothing!”

Christopher stilled under the onslaught.

The little Welsh lamb had gotten her claws out—or whatever other fearsome weapon lambs possessed. Only a few months ago, he would not have credited her with so much impetuosity. But he had since then seen how wild she could be when making love. It made sense she would be as fierce in anger.

It only made his situation more difficult. Not that he had dared hope she would accept his decision easily, but that … that was something else altogether.

“Sian, I cannot marry you. Surely, you must see?—”

“Cannot or will not?” she interrupted, hitting at his chest with surprising force.

“And I ‘must’ nothing. How can you do this to me? I almost fell out with my sister when I tried to justify your behavior toward her, all the while knowing how much you had hurt her in the past! Everyone in my family sees you as the worst kind of rogue, but I stood up to them, took your defense when Elsie accused you, then told them you were the man I wanted to marry and assured them you were not the person they thought. But you made a fool out of me because you did go back on your promise and are just a despicable, untrustworthy, lying schemer who took advantage of my?—”

She stopped, and he wasn’t sure whether she thought she had revealed too much of her feelings for him or whether she could not talk for sheer anger. Both were possible. He had never seen her in such a state.

“I did not intend to make a fool out of you,” Christopher said through gritted teeth, fighting his own mounting anger.

Was that all she had to say, that he had made her appear ridiculous in front of her family?

In other words, loving, perfect people who would support her no matter what?

Was he supposed to pity her? Did she think he was happy about the situation?

Did she think it was easy for him? Where was the understanding, sympathetic woman he’d started to fall for? Had she been an illusion all along?

He’d thought she might have started to develop feelings for him, but he was no longer sure.

In view of her reaction, he was forced to reconsider everything.

The daughter of a man as prestigious as Lord Sheridan might have the right to expect a good marriage, but she would also be aware that her being Welsh might be an issue for most English families.

He, on the other hand, had not let it bother him.

So was her ire caused by the realization that all her ploys to ensnare an English nobleman had failed?

He knew she had been desperate in her bid to extract a proposal out of him.

She had, after all, gone to him before marriage had been mentioned, impersonating Mildred, rendering him incapable of thinking, making him take her.

She had given herself to him fully, relying on his sense of honor to trap him into a union with the highborn virgin he had deflowered.

And now that she had found out he was not a lord, she was playing the victim.

Far from considering how he might feel, she saw only that she would never be a lady if she married him. As his wife, she would be a nobody. She had worked to entice him, surrendered her maidenhead, and played the whore for nothing. No wonder she felt cheated and bitter.

“But you did make a fool out of me,” she carried on. “You said you would marry me. You took my maidenhead!”

Her voice had reached an alarming volume, but she did not seem to care. He didn’t particularly either, as they were in the middle of nowhere and no one could hear them. But he cared that she was still thinking about herself and unwilling to see his predicament. Enough was enough.

Christopher trapped both her wrists in his hand before she could hit him again. He did not intend to have her inflict real damage on him and it was going that way.

“As to that, I took your maidenhead because you left me no choice, and we both know it. But I was careful not to make you with child,” he rasped against her ear, remembering the effort it had taken him to withdraw in time.

It usually wasn’t that hard to stay in control, but with her, he had been lost in the moment and the pleasure of their joining.

“I spilled outside your body, so there is little damage done.”

For her at least. She could still make a good marriage since no child would ruin her reputation.

No one needed to know she was not a virgin anymore.

She had not bled on her first time, and he could not be the only man who knew it could happen that way.

Her husband would just accept her word that she was untouched. Yes, she would be all right.

As for him, his prospects had never appeared more dire.

There is little damage done .

Was that what Christopher really thought?

Horror invaded Sian. It was even worse than she had feared.

Christopher had planned his escape all along.

That night in the clearing, while she had lost her mind to pleasure, he’d been thinking ahead.

At the time, she had assumed he’d withdrawn because he wanted to protect her, make sure no one questioned her virtue if she happened to give birth to a child too soon after their wedding.

In fact, he had only ensured he could not be made accountable for his actions, like he had done with the other women he’d seduced, Elsie and his countless other lovers.

How had she thought he’d felt any different with her?

Oh, his betrayal was a hard blow to deal with. Would she ever recover from it?

“I hate you!”

Sian would have pushed at him, but with both her wrists imprisoned in his big hand, she could not move.

Being so close to Christopher physically when they had never been so far apart emotionally was tearing at her heart.

Hadn’t he hurt her enough? Why had he come back?

To torture her further, make her see what she had lost?

It made no sense, but she was past trying to understand the workings of his mind.

In the last week, she had dealt with enough disillusion, enough pain, enough humiliation to last her a lifetime.

All she knew was that his decision was made and it was over between them.

He would never marry her.

Eventually, she stilled and he let go of her wrists.

“I hate you,” she repeated more weakly.

But even as she hoisted herself up on Clover’s back, she knew that was a lie. She didn’t hate Christopher; she loved him. She had wanted him from the moment she’d set eyes on him all those years ago, and she feared she would love him till her dying day, betrayal or not.