“I will not go back on it again—ever.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“But that’s what you want.”
It wasn’t a question, so she didn’t say anything. Is that what she wanted? Maybe it was. Maybe she wanted him to choose her—as unlikely as that may be.
She tugged at her arm, and he let her go without a fight.
That seemed somehow telling.
She was shivering now; her lips were probably a pale shade of violet. All she could think about was getting back to the abbey and trying to forget about this. Trying to forget about him. She just hoped she didn’t burst into tears before she got there. Her pride had taken enough of a battering for the day.
What could she have been thinking? This wasRandolph. He wanted great and extraordinary; he wouldn’t tie himself to someone who wouldn’t enhance his image. Someone who loved court and would be an asset to his ambitions. That wasn’t her.
She looked around for her cloak, glad that she’d left it on a fallen tree while she’d washed. But the warmth that enfolded her was temporary.
She felt like such a fool. She’d practically handed him her innocence because she thought a few heated moments and tender kisses meant something. No matter how kind, how fun, how attached he’d seemed, how could she have let herself believe even for one minute that she was the kind of woman to capture the heart of a lauded rogue? Rogues didn’t fall for one woman. That’s what made them rogues. And if there wasawoman who would ever bring him to heel, it would be a glittery diamond to add to his crown, like her cousin.
Her chest squeezed. Izzie wasn’t a diamond. She probably wasn’t even a pearl. She was just the not-so-glamorous cousin—the supporting player to the lead in this faerie tale. The one who didn’t get the happy ending.
She made it to the edge of the trees before he spoke. “I could never give you what you want, Izzie—even without Elizabeth.”
She felt the first stirrings of anger. Did he think she was already in love with him? His arrogance truly was astounding—even if he was closer than she wanted to acknowledge. She spun around, fists balled tightly at her side. “I don’t want anything from you.”
“Good, because I could never give it. You were right—I don’t have those kinds of feelings. You want someone who cares for you.”
She’d thought the pang in her heart couldn’t sink any deeper, but he’d just proved her wrong. “And you don’t,” she said, saying what he hadn’t.
“Not in the way you want.”
She felt the lash of truth like a lick of flame. He’d left no room for misinterpretation, had he? He might as well have said, “I don’t love you, nor shall I.”
She wouldn’t let him see how much his honesty had hurt her. She drew herself up, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. “And my cousin? Does she deserve that as well? Or maybe you care for her already?”
He bristled, not seeming to like her point. “Your cousin and I understand one another.”
In other words, her cousin wouldn’t make demands because she wouldn’t be fool enough to fall in love with him. Izzie gave him a pitying look. At times he could truly be an arse. “How fortunate for you. It sounds perfect. And that is what you want, isn’t it?”
She wasn’t expecting an answer. Without another word, or another look in his direction, she left.
What else could she do? He’d made himself clear. He didn’t care for her; he wouldn’t love her; and he wasn’t going to call off his betrothal.
He’d said everything he needed to say.
CHAPTER SIX
Randolph hid his surprise when he saw Lady Isabel coming out of the guesthouse behind her cousin. He’d assumed that she would beg off from the outing to the market that had been arranged a few days ago.
But he should have known better. Isabel—Izzie—wasn’t one to beg off anything. She confronted—whether the situation was comfortable or not.
In this case, it was not.
His discomfort wasn’t because of anything she was doing. Rather the opposite. Although her gaze had flickered to his on greeting, she paid little attention to him the rest of the morning and seemed to be enjoying the outing with her cousin.
She gave no hint of the intense conversation they’d had yesterday—or of the intimacies they’d shared, for that matter. She was her usual confident, self-possessed, lighthearted, wryly funny, annoyingly indifferent-to-him self. His jaw clenched as he watched Isabel and her cousin laugh with some merchant over the cost of his ribbons. No one in the crowd who was watching them (they’d drawn a lot of attention from the townsfolk) would ever guess that she’d fallen apart in his arms.
That she’d given herself to him.
