Page 93 of A Deal for the Duke’s Virgin

“Because it is different with you.”

“How? How could it possibly be different? You have done this with many women, haven’t you? Why not me? What is wrong with me?”

He closed his eyes. “I never said that there was anything wrong with you.”

She slid unsteadily off the bed, facing him. Her legs felt like jelly, and she could feel her skirt hanging lopsided where it had been torn. The tear could be fixed, but the hurt in her chest might not fade so quickly.

“What is wrong with me?” she whispered. “You say you desire me so much, but you won’t do as I ask. Is it because I am a wallflower? Do you think I’m too likely to fall in love with you? What is it?”

He faced her, eyes narrowing. “It’s because I don’t trust myself with you, Thalia.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if I touch you the way you want, the way you are begging me to, then I will not be able to control myself. Those women you mention were not you. They didn’t test my willpower, didn’t make me want to lose control at every waking moment. I could keep them at a distance. I could ensure that there would be no child. I cannot do that with you. I don’t trust myself.”

She blinked up at him, struggling for words, but none came.

Eventually, he turned on his heel and walked silently out of the room, closing the door behind him.

She stared at the closed door for a long minute. His words still made no sense.

What does he mean, lose control? I never meant to test him.

Another thought followed, a stark realization that she had gone as far as she could.

I can’t push him any further. I can’t beg him. I won’t beg him. If he wants distance between us, then there is nothing left but for me to give him that.

Swallowing back tears, she slowly undressed, peeling off her fine brocade and leaving it crumpled on the floor. She climbed into bed, and despite the raucous chatter and laughter drifting up from the party below, she fell asleep.

Christian’s hands were still shaking by the time he returned to his room. He had left Edwin and Daphne to preside over the party downstairs, and they had wisely chosen not to ask questions about where he was going. He was grateful for that.

When he stepped inside his room, Hooves was there, folding linen. He blinked up at Christian, surprised.

“Your Grace, forgive me. I thought you would be downstairs for hours yet. I had planned to get ahead on preparing your room for tonight.”

“I’m retiring now,” Christian said briskly.

A flicker crossed the butler’s face, but he was too well-trained to let any emotion show. “Very good, Your Grace. Shall I make preparations?”

“I’d like a bath first. A cold one.”

This time, Hooves’ eyebrows did jerk a little. “A bath?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind. As cold as you can manage.”

Hooves bowed and slipped out of the room.

Christian stood there for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest, then crossed to the drinks cart. He poured himself a glass of whiskey, hands still shaking, and drank it down in one gulp. It was as if he were on fire. His limbs tingled, his skin prickled, and heat still swirled in his groin. He could think of nothing but her.

How is it possible to want someone so badly?

He had no answer.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tightened his fingers around the whiskey glass. Cracks began spreading beneath his fingers.

I must stay away from her. That’s the only solution here. We must live entirely separate lives.

CHAPTER 26