Dreaming of You (The Gamblers #2)(73)

“I don’t want anyone honorable. I want you.”

She felt him smile unwillingly against her ear. “Sweet angel,” he whispered. “You can do far better than me.”

“I don’t agree.” Ignoring his attempt to ease her away, she snuggled under his chin.

Reluctantly Derek folded her against his warm body. “You’re getting cold. I’ll take you inside.”

“I’m not cold.” Sara had no intention of going anywhere. She had dreamed of this moment for too many nights.

Derek glanced over her head at the light coming from the ballroom. “You should be in there dancing with Harry Marshall…or Lord Banks.”

She frowned at the mention of the two callow youths. “Is that what you think I deserve? You would pair me with some shallow, conceited dandy and claim that I’ve made a splendid match? Well, I’m beginning to think it’s a convenient excuse, this notion of yours that I’m too good for you! Perhaps the truth is that I’m lacking something. You must think I wouldn’t satisfy your needs, or—”

“No,” Derek said swiftly.

“I suppose you would rather be consorting with all those married women who keep whispering in your ear and making eyes at you, and touching you with their fans—”

“Sara—”

“Writers are very observant, perceptive people, and I can tell exactly which women you’ve consorted with, just by watching—”

Derek smothered her tirade with his mouth. When she was quiet, he lifted his head. “None of them mattered to me,” he said roughly. “There were no promises, no obligations on either side. I felt nothing for them.” He looked away from her and swore, aware of the futility of trying to explain it to her. But she had to understand, so that she would have no illusions about him. He forced himself to go on. “Some of them claimed to love me. As soon as they said it, I left without looking back.”

“Why?”

“There’s no place in my life for that. I don’t want it. I have no use for it.”

Sara stared at his averted face. In spite of his un-emotional tone, she sensed the tumult inside him. He was lying to himself. He needed to be loved more than any person she had ever met. “Then what do you want?” she asked softly.

He shook his head without answering. But Sara knew. He wanted to be safe. If he were rich and powerful enough, he would never be hurt, lonely, or abandoned. He would never have to trust anyone. She continued to stroke his hair, playing lightly with the thick raven locks. “Take a chance on me,” she urged. “Do you really have so much to lose?”

He gave a harsh laugh and loosened his arms to release her. “More than you know.”

Clinging to him desperately, Sara kept her mouth at his ear. “Listen to me.” All she could do was play her last card. Her voice trembled with emotion. “You can’t change the truth. You can act as though you’re deaf and blind, you can walk away from me forever, but the truth will still be there, and you can’t make it go away. I love you.” She felt an involuntary tremor run through him. “I love you,” she repeated. “Don’t lie to either of us by pretending you’re leaving for my good. All you’ll do is deny us both a chance at happiness. I’ll long for you every day and night, but at least my conscience will be clear. I haven’t held anything back from you, out of fear or pride or stubbornness.” She felt the incredible tautness of his muscles, as if he were carved from marble. “For once have the strength not to walk away,” she whispered. “Stay with me. Let me love you, Derek.”

He stood there frozen in defeat, with all the warmth and promise of her in his arms…and he couldn’t allow himself to take what she offered. He’d never felt so worthless, so much a fraud. Perhaps for a day, a week, he could be what she wanted. But no longer than that. He had sold his honor, his conscience, his body, anything he could use to escape the lot he’d been given in life. And now, with all his great fortune, he couldn’t buy back what he’d sacrificed. Were he capable of tears, he would have shed them. Instead he felt numbing coldness spread through his body, filling up the region where his heart should have been.

It wasn’t difficult to walk away from her. It was appallingly easy.

Sara made an inarticulate sound as he extricated himself from her embrace. He left her as he had left the others, without looking back.

Somehow Sara made her way to the ballroom, too dazed to think about what would happen next. Derek was not there. The elegant clamor of the ball made it easy for her to maintain an appearance. She danced several times with different partners, pasting a shallow smile on her face. She made conversation in a light voice that sounded odd to her own ears. Evidently her pain wasn’t visible, for no one appeared to notice that something was wrong.

But then Lady Raiford appeared. The expression on Lily’s face changed from a smile to an uncertain frown as she approached. “Sara?” she asked quietly. “What happened?”

Sara was quiet, while panic assailed her. Any hint of sympathy would push her over the edge. She would have to leave the ball immediately, or she would burst into tears. “Oh, I’ve had a lovely time,” she said rapidly. “I just have a touch of the headache. It’s rather late—I’m not used to such hours. Perhaps I should retire.”