“I’m sorry,” she said more calmly. “I said that far more forcefully than I meant to.” She smoothed her coiffure with her hands. “What I meant to say is, I’d like to stay out here, in the air a bit longer, if I may.”
Christian nodded. “I’ll leave you, then.”
“No.” She said the word much more softly this time.
Their eyes met. They stood together, a few paces apart, in silence for a few moments. Christian remembered their time together in Scotland and the ease and comfort he’d always felt in her presence. They didn’t have to speak to each other. Sarah was one of the few people he knew who didn’t require talking, endless, constant talking.
A few more minutes passed and then Christian strode over to the balustrade and braced his forearms against it. “Why didn’t Lord Branford take you with him to the prince’s dinner party tonight?” He mentally cursed himself for bringing up that peacock Branford, but apparently he couldn’t help himself.
Sarah sighed. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s because we aren’t married yet.”
“Missing him tonight, are you?” Damn again. Why did he saythat?
Sarah turned on him, her eyes flashing. “You know I’m not.”
“Yet you remain engaged to him.” For the love of God. Hereallycouldn’t stop himself. Why was he being such an ass?
Her jaw was tight. “You know I have no choice.”
Christian bowed his head toward his arms, which remained braced against the balustrade. The scent of lilies carried on the slight breeze. “You know what I want to know, Sarah?”
“What?” she whispered.
“Where is the girl who ran away?”
Sarah pushed away from the balustrade and Christian turned to watch her. She pressed two fingers to her temple as if willing away a headache. “She got wise.”
He pressed his back against the balustrade this time. “Is it wise to throw away your entire life on someone you don’t love?” Christian didn’t even know who he was any longer, asking these sorts of questions. And yet hestillcouldn’t seem to stop himself.
She flung a hand in the air. “People do it all the time. You know that as well as I. Are you saying you love Lady Claire, for instance?”
His jaw was tight. “I haven’t offered for Lady Claire.”
“So you loved Lucy Hunt, then?”
“I didn’t offer for her either,” he shot back.
“But you wanted to.”
Christian turned toward the balustrade again and cursed under his breath. “Are you going to marry him, Sarah? Truly? Is that what you want?”
She spoke slowly, deliberately, resignedly. Her voice floated behind him. “It’s not what I want, but yes, I’m going to marry him.”
That was it. His control snapped. Christian swiveled around, took two steps toward her, and pulled her roughly into his arms. His mouth came down quickly to savage hers. His tongue pressed inside and she melted against him. Her arms twined around his neck and he softened the kiss. Anyone could walk out and see them. She would be ruined. The scandal might be unparalleled, but at the moment Christian didn’t bloody well care. He kissed her with all the pent-up longing and passion he felt for her. And she kissed him back.
Moments later he released her and she staggered back, pressing a gloved hand against her swollen lips. “Christian, I—”
“Tell me you’re going to marry him. Tell me you feel absolutely nothing for me. Tell me we’re merelyfriends. Tell me, Sarah, tell me right now.”
She drew a weak, shaky breath. “Don’t do this, Christian.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, his voice shaking with anger.
She drew another breath, a deeper one this time, and her voice, when it came, was clear and determined. “I’m going to marry him. I’m sorry.” She picked up her skirts and rushed across the veranda, through the double doors, and back into the ballroom. Christian watched her go, clenching his fist against his side, wanting to punch a hole through the bloody stone wall of the house.
Moments later, Lucy Hunt’s face appeared through the French doors. She’d obviously seen Sarah flee. She looked at Christian and shook her head.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
