Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(76)

“Not when we’ve known each other for little more than a fortnight!”

“Then tell me how long a courtship you want. I can wait.”

“You have to go back to New York.”

“I can wait,” he repeated stubbornly.

Sighing, Livia lowered her face to his chest and rested her cheek against the crisp, curling hair. She forced herself to be honest. “Nothing would induce me to marry you, my darling.”

Gideon’s arms went around her then. He held her a little too tightly, and ran his hands over her back in a long, supplicating stroke. “Why not?”

“Because I care for you too much to watch you destroy yourself.”

She felt the sudden tension in the long body beneath hers. Again she moved to roll away from him, expecting that this time he would let her go. But his arm tightened around her slender back, and one hand came to press her head more firmly against his chest. Resignation flattened his tone. “You want me to stop drinking.”

“No—I want no part of that decision.”

“But you would consider marrying me if I didn’t drink?” At her long hesitation, he urged her to raise her head and look at him.

“Yes,” she said reluctantly. “In that case, I would probably consider it.”

Gideon’s expression was shuttered, his mouth twisting as if he were looking inside himself and was dissatisfied with what he saw. “I don’t know if I can stop,” he muttered with a frankness that she admired, even if the words were unwelcome. “I don’t even know if I want to. I’d rather just keep drinking, and have you as well.”

“You can’t,” she said flatly. “Even if you are a Shaw.”

Gideon turned to his side, holding her head in the crook of his arm as he looked down at her. “I would give you everything you’ve ever wanted. I would take you anywhere in the world. Anything you asked for—”

“It would come between us, eventually.” Livia began to wonder if she weren’t insane, turning down a proposal from him when most women would have fallen to their knees in gratitude. A tremulous smile came to her lips as she saw his expression. Clearly he was not a man accustomed to being refused for any reason. “Let’s just enjoy the time that we have together now. I’ll be returning to Stony Cross in a few days, but until then—”

“A few days? No, stay longer, and go back with me.”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t do for us to travel together—people would talk.”

“I don’t give a damn.” Desperation threaded through his voice. “Just take me as I am, Livia.”

“Perhaps I could, if I cared less,” she returned, keeping her eyes closed as he brushed his lips over her delicate lids, her lashes, her hot cheeks, the tip of her nose.

“But I won’t subject myself to the process of losing you little by little, until you’ve either killed yourself or become someone that I don’t recognize.”

Gideon drew back and gave her a sullen stare. “At least tell me one thing—do you love me?”

Livia remained silent, uncertain whether the admission would make things better or worse.

“I have to know,” Gideon said, his mouth twisting with self-derision as he heard the plea in his own voice. “If I’m to change my life for you, I’ve got to have some hope.”

“I don’t want you to change your life for me. You’ll have to make the same decision every day, over and over—it must be for yourself alone. Otherwise you will come to resent me.”

She saw how much he wanted to argue with her. Instead he settled beside her, loosely wrapping his arm around her waist. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

Stroking the back of his hand, Livia sighed. “I’ve been adrift for so long, ever since Amberley’s death, and now I’m finally ready to start living again. You came along just at the time I needed you, and for that I will always remember you with fondness and gratitude.”

“Fondness?” he repeated, his mouth twisting. “Gratitude?”

“I’m not going to admit that I feel anything more than that. It would be a form of coercion.”

Grumbling beneath his breath, Gideon rose above her. “Maybe I should test your resolve.”

“You’re welcome to try,” Livia said, but instead of sounding flirtatious, her voice was melancholy, and she found herself wrapping him in her arms and legs as if she could somehow protect him from the demons within himself.

Aline sighed as she extracted yet another sheet of cream paper from the drawer of her writing desk and wiped the quill of her pen with a square of black felt. Nearly a dozen letters were piled in front of her, from friends and relatives who were doubtless peeved at her lateness in replying. However, one could not simply dash off a conveniently quick reply. Letter writing was an art that demanded close attention to detail. One had to convey the latest news with style and verve…and if there had been a lack of noteworthy events to write about, one had to be creatively amusing, or philosophical.

Aline frowned at the three letters that she had already finished. So far she had described minor household complaints, related some choice bits of gossip, and even given commentary on the recent weather. “How skillful I’ve become at talking about everything but the truth,” she commented to herself with a mocking smile. But she doubted that her real news would be music to the ears of her relatives…I have recently taken a lover, and have participated in two decidedly torrid encounters, in the forest and in my bedroom cabinet. My sister Livia is enjoying good health, and is currently on a visit to London, where at this moment she is probably rolling in bed with a perpetually inebriated American…