She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, trying to think clearly. It did not help. She turned on her side and made out the faint outline of the brass key on her dressing table. It seemed to mock her. She wondered if he had actually locked the door when he returned the key this morning. If he hadn’t, then why didn’t he come to her now?
But the answer was obvious. She was the one who had turned him away. She was the one who had said no to his proposal.
Groaning softly with the inability to lay her thoughts to rest, Shannon got out of bed and shrugged into her dressing gown. She did not pick up the key or test the connecting door. Instead she left her chamber and padded barefoot to the nursery. Clara was asleep, as Shannon had known she would be, and she was careful not to disturb the child. She sat at the foot of Clara’s bed and stared at Brandon’s daughter, daring to think what it would be like to have a child of her own.
She had not considered the possibility of becoming pregnant until Brandon had forced her to consider it. He had not broached the subject gently—his feelings had been hurt too deeply by then—and Shannon had not been thinking clearly, else she wouldn’t have said she refused to have a child simply to prove that it washis.She, who hated an argument, who shied from any raised voice, had behaved in a manner that would have done a fishwife proud.
Shannon closed her eyes. Tears escaped anyway. She wiped one away, then another. Her heart ached with the effort to maintain a semblance of control. Finally she simply buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
The first Shannon knew that Brandon was in the room was when she felt his hands on her shoulders. They rested there with infinite gentleness before sliding down her arms. She did not resist when he drew her to her feet and enfolded her in his embrace.
“Papa?” Clara sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
Brandon kept Shannon’s face against his chest. “Go back to sleep.”
“Is she crying?”
“Yes, darling.”
“Did she have a bad dream?”
“I think so.”
Clara thought about that while Shannon continued to sob into Brandon’s chest. “She should sleep with you. That’s what I do when I have a bad dream.”
“Perhaps I’ll suggest that to her,” he said solemnly. “Will you go back to sleep now?”
Clara put her chocolate thumb in her mouth while she deliberated. At last she nodded and lay back down. “Goodnight, Papa.”
“Goodnight, Clara.” Brandon swung Shannon into his arms and carried her down the hall to his own room. Over the sound of Shannon’s feeble protest he thought he heard his daughter’s giggle.
“I don’t want to be here,” Shannon said when Brandon lowered her to his bed. She knuckled her eyes and tried to get up.
Brandon blocked her retreat with his body. “No. Stay here. You heard Clara. She thinks you should sleep with me.”
Shannon sniffed and stared at him through eyes that were still glossy with tears. “Don’t laugh at me,” she said with quiet dignity.
Brandon sat beside her. “I’m not…I couldn’t.” He cupped her face in his hand. “But I want you to stay with me, Shannon. Tell me how I can make you stay.”
Shannon understood he was not talking about only tonight. He meant every night for the rest of their lives. Her bottom lip trembled and tears began to drip soundlessly across her flushed cheeks. She launched herself into Brandon’s arms, holding him as tightly as he had held her before. “I’m s-so s-sorry. I d-didn’t m-mean those things.”
Brandon’s fingers stroked her hair and caressed the length of her spine. “I know,” he murmured over and over. “Hush now. You’ll make yourself ill.”
“I w-want to be ill,” she said. “It would m-make me feel better.”
Brandon had no answer for that sort of logic. He grinned helplessly, drawing her face away from his shoulder and kissing her on the forehead. He laid her back on the bed when her tears had subsided. “Wait here.” Returning a moment later with a damp cloth, he began to bathe Shannon’s tearstained face. “I went to your room earlier,” he told her, watching her closely.
“My intentions were not strictly honorable. I was going to demand that you keep your promise to be my mistress. I thought I could reason with you to see that you would prefer to be my wife.” He laughed softly when she frowned. “I know, it sounds foolish to me also. Not long ago I thought it made the most perfect sense.”
Brandon tossed aside the cloth. Candlelight flickered wildly from the sudden rush of air. “I don’t think you can know what I felt when I thought you had gone.”
“Oh, Brandon,” she said sadly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know that. I also know that I gave as good as I got. Never was a proposal of marriage so mismanaged. I took your acceptance as a foregone conclusion, and that was wrong.”
“Let us not speak of it now.” Shannon’s hand lay against Brandon’s cheek. “I couldn’t sleep before, but I find I am too weary now to do naught else.”
“You’ll sleep here?”
