Page 19 of The Scandalous Love of a Duke (The Marlow Family Secrets #6)

‘I am different too, John.’ Her tone was indignant again. ‘I was born out of wedlock. My natural mother took her own life. I do not even know who my father is, and the entire village are waiting for me to fall into sin as my mother did. I have to fight against these things?—’

‘And I am spoilt. So you have said.’

His belligerence angered her. ‘Yes! You are! Especially as you think you must treat the world with mistrust or indifference.’

He put the glass down.

‘I could wallow in misery, but I get on with my life, John. I am thankful I have a home and my father and Phillip. I choose to seek the happiness in my life. It seems you have chosen to wallow in the things that are not so good in your life. Is that what you did during your years abroad? You do not have my pity, John.’

‘I do not want it!’ His face screwed up in disgust.

‘Good.’ She reached past him, picked up the glass and took a sip to clear her dry throat, then set it back and turned to leave.

He caught her wrist and turned her back. ‘You would understand if you lived my life. My grandfather spent a dozen years teaching me it would be like this. Like it or not, my position sets me apart from people.’

She did understand. She knew what it was to be isolated and lonely. But that was not what he was pointing out to her now. He was saying everyone was below him. ‘Including me?’

‘I did not say that you?—’

‘You said earlier, I am a risk you are taking, you think yourself above me.’

‘You are a novelty and one I am grateful for.’

To me it is just love.

For the first time she understood how risky this was for her.

She was going to be hurt. He was not.

His hand came up and braced her nape and then he kissed her, gently at first and then more forcefully as though making a point that the only thing between them was this, kisses and physical attraction.

It was not what she had wished for with him, she had wished for a Cinderella story, even though it had been an empty hope.

When she had longed for him, for all the years he had been abroad and more, she had longed for love, not for this emotionally detached purely physical bond between them. It was not enough.

‘I cannot meet you tomorrow, I will be busy,’ he said. ‘But on Sunday I will drive you home from church.’ This was not a request, it was a statement that assumed her acceptance.

Katherine’s brow furrowed. ‘Reverend Barker drives me home, John.’

‘The reverend can go to hell,’ he snapped. ‘I will drive you.’

‘John you cannot…’

His fingers tightened at the back of her neck. ‘It is non-negotiable, Katherine. I will drive you home.’

‘And risk my reputation. People will wonder why.’ She shook her head, breaking free from the hand that held her. Had she not just mentioned all the people who wished to see her fall into sin? She had fallen but they need not know.

‘Our connection is well known, people will not question it, and I will take a groom. But you are riding with me, not with him.’

‘I am not your servant to be ordered.’

His intense gaze held hers, and then for an instant she saw his true feelings. ‘Can I help it if I am jealous of the man?’ he admitted them.

Her stomach somersaulted with a sudden desperate longing for love not lust. ‘You have nothing to be jealous of.’ Her fingers touched his cheek and a deep pain braced her heart. He did need her, no matter how hard he sought to hide it.

‘Do I not? He can give you what I cannot. He can offer you a future.’

It was the first time he had admitted there was no future for them. Though, she had known it, it hurt to hear it said.

‘Has he offered you marriage? Are you tempted by him?’

She had said he was proud and spoilt, lonely, childish because he sulked, and weak because he chose to wallow in self-pity.

Such a commendable assessment. But yet again it only proved she was not here to curry his favour.

She was here because for some strange reason, despite thinking so many ill things of him, she cared for him.

No, he did not trust her, not yet, but she was making him question his lack of trust, she was making him want her to be the one person he could trust.

‘I am not having that conversation with you, John.’

‘Would you accept him, if he asked?’ he persisted.

‘I do not even think he would ask.’

He was in an acerbic mood today, but he could not help himself. It was due to the dream he had last night and the earlier situation with Wareham, and now she had set him off balance with her harsh judgements.

‘How long have you been courting?’

‘Is this an interrogation?’ she asked in an exasperated voice.

He liked the fact that she showed every emotion without care. It was so damned refreshing to speak to an honest woman. Then why did he not trust her? Because caution had been beaten into him as a child and later relearned in his youth. He no more knew how to trust than he knew how to love.

‘If you must know, we are not courting. He is not even looking for a wife. He is a friend.’ And what she had with him was just sex . The comparison hit John hard.

‘Do you want to be his wife?’

‘Stop this.’

Yes, then. If she would not answer, the answer must be yes.

He felt sick. Yes, he was selfish. He did not wish any other man to steal away this precious woman. He wanted her all to himself. But he was not spoilt. All the most important things he had wanted in his life he had not had, and now she was added to that list.

He turned away to put his coat on, trying to get a grip on this obsession he felt for her. He felt angry and annoyed, and betrayed again.

Her hands slipped about his midriff without warning, he had not heard her move, and then her cheek pressed to the back of his shoulder.

Ridiculously he felt like weeping, and then he realised he had not shed a single tear over his grandfather’s death, he had barely mourned at all.

But he wanted to cry over this woman, who had been waiting here for him for a quarter of his life when he had not even known she was waiting.

Not only was she passionate, selfless and giving, but she was also a survivor, as he was, and lonely, as he was.

In so many ways they were the same, and yet in so many others they were entirely opposite and poles apart.

‘You may drive me home on Sunday if it is so important to you,’ she said against his back.

He felt something warm and fluid in his chest. The emotion constricted his lungs and stole his breath as he let her hold him and let himself feel the reassurance she offered. This woman he had assumed was a fragile English rose had more courage than him.

‘If you want me too, Katherine,’ he said, without turning. ‘If you do not, I will not force you.’

His gaze looked outwards, across the land that was his. Land that stretched for miles. Was he spoilt, to have everything except what he most wanted – the ability to love this woman and make her his wife?

‘I wish it.’

God alone knew why.