Where Dreams Begin(81)

“And now you think we're going to carry on as if nothing has happened?” he asked incredulously.

Holly swallowed and shook her head, fighting the urge to curl up against his half-naked body and cry like a child. “Well, no, of course not. I—I can't stay after this.”

“Holly, sweet darling, you can't possibly think I'm going to let you go.” He gathered her against him, besieging her with kisses.

Holly had never known before that joy and pain could mingle like this. She clung to him, and briefly let herself respond, kissing him with fierce adoration, clutching him tightly for all the times she would never be able to hold him. Finally she tore herself away and stood, pulling at the bunched fabric of her skirts until they settled into place. She hunted for her discarded shoes, finding one in the center of the summerhouse, the other beneath a bench. Zachary moved behind her, searching for his own clothes and putting them on.

Sighing, Holly stared hard at some point far outside the rain-splattered window, where the tall hedgerows dissolved in a watery blur. “I knew before today that I would have to leave,” she said, keeping her back to Zachary. “Now, after this, I certainly can't live beneath the same roof with you.”

“I don't want you to leave.”

“My feelings for you don't change what I must do. I've already explained why.”

He was silent for a full minute, grasping the full significance of her words. “You're still planning to marry Ravenhill,” he said tonelessly. “Even now.”

“No, it's not that.” Holly felt very cold, all the pulsing warmth of their encounter finally draining away. She tried to examine her choices, but all of them left her feeling empty and strangely fearful. It was all too natural to retreat back into the habits of a lifetime, to follow the paths that had been chosen for her long ago, first by her father and then by George. “I don't know what will happen with Ravenill. I don't even know if he'll still have me.”

“Oh, he'll have you.” Zachary spun her around to face him. He was huge and dark, staring at her with a sort of resigned fury. “I've had to fight for everything I've ever gotten. But I won't fight for you. You'll come to me because you want me. I'll be damned if I'll bully or beg you to have me. I suppose in the ton's view, a Ravenhill is worth about a hundred Bronsons. No one will blame you for marrying him, especially when it comes out that George wanted the match. And you might even be happy for a while. But someday you'll realize it was a mistake, when it's too late for either of us to do a damned thing about it.”

Holly turned white, but managed to reply calmly. “Our agreement…I'll return the money…”

“Keep the money for Rose. There's no reason for her trust to be cut in half simply because her mother is a coward.”

She lowered her watery gaze to the level of his third shirt button. “You're being cruel now,” she whispered.

“I think I could be a gentleman about almost anything, except for losing you. Don't expect me to take it with good grace, Holly.”

Swiping her hand across her eyes, she managed one last whisper. “I want to go back to the house.”

Despite the cover of Zachary's greatcoat and the shelter of the umbrella, Holly was thoroughly soaked by the time they reached the house. Zachary brought her in through the French doors connecting to a gallery filled with sculpture. The long rectangular space was shadowed and streaked with silver from the patterns the rain had made on the window. Statues were dappled and painted with gray rivulets. Dripping, his hair clinging to his head, Zachary stared down at the obdurate woman before him. She was shivering and tense, so closed away from him by her obligations and promises that they might as well have been separated by a granite wall.

Her small, pale face was surrounded by streaming tendrils of brown hair, making her look like an unhappy mermaid. He yearned to carry her upstairs and strip away her cold wet clothes and warm her with the heat of a fire, and then with his own body. “I'll talk to your mother and sister tomorrow,” Holly said unsteadily. “I'll tell them that my work here is done and there's little reason to stay. Rose and Maude and I will be packed and gone by the end of the week.”

“I'm leaving for Durham tomorrow,” Zachary muttered. “I'll fry in hell before going through some sham of seeing you off and wishing you well, and pretending there's nothing wrong between us.”

“Yes. Of course.” She stood before him, her small frame held stiffly. She was so damned elusive, wounded, regretful, intractable—and so clearly in love with him. Zachary was furious that honor and common sense meant more to her than he did. She forced herself to return his gaze, and there was a perplexing glint of fear in her eyes. She was afraid to trust in any kind of future with him. He knew how to coax and badger and entice people into doing things they were reluctant to do, but he would not use those skills on her. She would have to choose him willingly, and it was clear that this was something she would never bring herself to do.

Charged with bitter defeat, Zachary longed suddenly to be away from her, before he did or said something they would both regret for eternity. “Just one more thing,” he said, his voice coming out far more harshly than he had intended. “If you leave me now, don't come back. I don't give second chances.”