That was utterly unacceptable.
* * *
Aylesbury felt Fionastiffen next to him and knew that the moment of warm, simmering desire was gone.
But ithadbeen there.
If even for just a moment.
If it could happen once, it could happen again.Then again.
He sighed.After being unwaveringly pleasant to her for days on end without even the slightest smile of encouragement from her, he’d begun to accept that Fiona might never deign to forgive him or shed what remained of her stubborn denial of the attraction that blossomed between them
That simply would not do.
He wasn’t certain he had patience enough to let her come around on her own, though he knew from experience pressing her would only serve to push her further away.
Straightening, Aylesbury eased his arm from around her, allowing for some space between them.Fiona wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he knew her well enough to know that she was most likely preparing some witty rejoinder meant to reinsert more than a physical gap between them or a sharp riposte to dismiss whatever he might say, be it a teasing comment on the tender moment or an observation on the weather.He did hate to disappoint by making it too easy for her.
“Do you really intend to marry the Earl of Carron?”He almost laughed aloud at the stupefied expression on her face.Whatever she had been expecting from him, that wasn’t it.Given the randomness of the topic, it took her a moment longer than usual to produce the sarcastic retort he was expecting.
“It’s his nephew, you yammering, crook-pated—”
“Charmer?”he interrupted.“Certainly anyone would be better than an arse like Ram...”
Fiona’s hand lashed out as if it had a mind of its own, but Aylesbury caught it in midair before it could make contact.“Always for the violence, my dear.Why is that?”
“Perhaps you deserve it.”
“And perhaps you deserve my hand on your arse.”
“Oh, of course,” Fiona drawled sarcastically, withdrawing her hand.“That is how one deals with an annoying child, isn’t it?”
“It’s become a shield for you, hasn’t it?You bring up the past to hide behind whenever the present becomes too uncomfortable for you.You use the anger to drive a wedge between us.You’ve become so embittered you’re practically stewing in it.Well, perhaps I deserved your anger at one time.Perhaps I deserved to be slapped,” he admitted, his eyes softening with regret that dulled her defensive flash of anger.“I was an ass, Fiona.A bastard, even.I treated you badly, and you will never know how deeply I regretted everything that happened between us.How I hurt you.I denied us both by refusing to see you as the woman you already were.I can only hope that you can see beyond the past one day.Look to the future we might have.I hope that you can forgive me.Can you?”
Fiona could tell his regret was sincere, and her heart was aching with sorrow.His and hers both.She had put her entire heart in his hands only to have him toss it away.Could she trust him with it again?That was the question.One she wasn’t sure of the answer.
“You broke my heart, Harry.”
It was barely a whisper, but he heard it and knew a sharp pain in return.“I know.Let me mend it.”
Having stopped in Eaton Square, the driver jumped down from his perch and waited patiently by the door, but Harry paid him no mind.His gaze locked with Fiona’s, as hers was with his.There was pain in her olive-green eyes, a bright sheen of tears...
And then regret in her tight whisper.
“I’m sorry, Harry.I cannot.”
