His cheek was resting against the crown of her head, and she could feel him nod. “We can be married by tomorrow evening if you wish.”
This could not be happening. She could not marry Caleb. There was a sudden flash in her mind, of her sister Frances’s pale, drawn face, her eyes filled with more misery than they should rightly be able to hold. That was what happened to a person when they married someone they loved and who did not love them in return.
“No,” she said out loud. It was all she could manage.
She felt him shrug. “If you would like to postpone it a day or two, that’s fine. But I warn you, I won’t take kindly to waiting much longer than that.” He chuckled low, his hand doing wonderful things to her back. She shuddered, and then with great force of will she wrenched out of his arms.
She rose to a sitting position, pulling the sheet up over her nakedness. He regarded her from the pillows with a small smile on his face, his eyes soft in the dim light. He put one arm behind his head, and the position brought his muscles into beautiful relief. Her heart ached at the sight. In that moment she almost lost her resolve. Almost.
“I won’t marry you, Caleb.”
“What are you talking about?” He reached for her, but she scooted off the bed, bringing the sheet with her. Which was a mistake, for now he had nothing covering his glorious nakedness. She swallowed hard, willing her eyes not to stray from his face.
“I won’t marry you,” she repeated, hoping he missed the quaver in her voice.
He rose, and every beautiful inch of him began a slow and steady advance on her. “But you will,” he said, his voice full of a certainty, a maleness that suited him deliciously.
She held a trembling hand out, and he stopped.
“I will not marry you,” she said once again, inserting as much steel into her voice as she could, praying he would leave it alone.
But of course he did not. “We have no choice,” he said patiently. “Imogen, we just lay together, as a man and wife would.”
“It makes no difference. I shall never marry, so there is no man I need to remain pure for. No one will know, and we can go on with our lives.”
“But I will know,” he said quietly, intensely. “And you will know. Our bodies know each other now. You can never change that.”
She shivered from the emotions his words brought her. She clenched her hands until the knuckles showed white. “We can’t, Caleb.” It will destroy me, she wanted to say. But to her relief, her throat closed up before the words slipped free.
“We have to,” he insisted. “Imogen, I am a gentleman. And a gentleman does not make love to an innocent lady without marrying her. My honor will not allow me to do otherwise. Besides,” he added quietly, “there might be a child.”
She blanched. “We’ll deal with that if it happens. There is no use rushing into anything until we’re certain. Otherwise, I release you from what you perceive as your responsibility toward me. You need feel no duty toward me, nor feel your honor is being impugned. I refuse to marry you. And so, you see, there is no cause for all of this talk of honor and duty.” Her voice had become frenzied, and she fought to calm herself.
He regarded her in silence, his eyes showing his confusion. Suddenly his expression changed, became intent, focused. He took a slow, measured step toward her, for all the world as if he were stalking her. Imogen felt frozen as he advanced.
Coming close to her, he reached up, gently dragging his knuckles down her cheek. His thumb rubbed her lower lip. She gave a shuddering sigh, the fire inside her leaping to life once again.
“Marry me, Imogen,” he whispered, his eyes hooded and hot. He leaned toward her, his gaze fastened on her mouth. And, God help her, she wanted to say yes, to melt back into his arms and take everything he offered.
With a cry she pulled away from him. Turning about, she fled from the room, the sheet flying behind her like a specter.
• • •
It was only much later that Imogen was able to think back with horror at what she had done. Not lying with Caleb. No, that she would never regret. But fleeing from him wearing nothing more than a sheet, running down a hallway in a house that was full of people—that made her cringe at the very recollection.
Somehow she made it back to her room unseen. And after she dressed herself in a nightgown with shaking hands and ducked down into her bed, she experienced what turned out to be the longest night of her life.
For a long while she expected Caleb to come after her, to pound on her door and demand answers. But he didn’t, and Imogen wasn’t sure what she felt more, relief or despair. She told herself that she should feel only relief. She had turned down his marriage proposal and certainly did not want him renewing it. Even so, there was an ache in her chest that she could not banish.
She had wanted to accept. She could imagine nothing so wonderful as marrying Caleb, living her life with him and giving him children and growing old with him. More than anything she had wanted to say yes. Her very bones ached with the need.
But…
That was the one word that had stopped her, the one word that brought to mind every reason why she couldn’t accept him.
But he didn’t truly want to marry her.
But he’d only asked her because of what they had done.
