Where Dreams Begin(93)

“Agreed.” Holly bit her lip and lowered her hands to her sides. It was difficult to strip her soul bare before him, but that was precisely what was required if she was to win him back. “I loved you from the beginning,” she said, forcing herself to look directly at him. “I can see that now, although at the time I didn't realize what was happening. I haven't wanted to face the truth, that I am exactly what you called me—a coward.” Her gaze searched Zachary's dark face for a reaction to her admission, but there was no sign of emotion. He downed another two fingers of brandy, consuming the distillation with slow, deliberate swallows. “When George died in my arms,” Holly continued raggedly, “I wanted to die, too. I never wanted to feel such pain again, and I knew the safest thing would be to never let myself love anyone that way. And so I used my promise to George as an excuse to hold you at bay.”

Holly paused uncertainly, realizing that for some reason her words had caused a flush to rise from Zachary's throat to his ears. Taking courage from that telltale wash of color, she forced herself to go on. “I was willing to use any reason I could find to keep from loving you. And then…when you and I…in the summerhouse…” Too distraught to look at him any longer, Holly lowered her head.

“I had never felt that way before,” she said. “I was utterly lost. I had no control over my heart or my thoughts, and so I was frantic to leave you. Ever since then I've tried to step back into my old life, but the fit isn't right anymore. I've changed. Because of you.” Suddenly she could barely see him through a scalding rush of tears. “I've finally realized that there is something worse than possibly losing you…and that is never having you at all.” Her voice cramped and faltered, and she could only whisper. “Please let me stay, Zachary—on any terms you desire. Don't make me live without you. I love you so desperately.”

The room was as quiet as a tomb, with no sound or movement from the man standing several feet away. If he still wanted her, if he still cared, she thought, he would have taken her in his arms by now. The realization made her want to shrink into nothing. A dull, pervasive pain began to seep from her chest. She wondered what she would do after he sent her away, where she would go, how she would go about building a new life for herself and Rose, when all she wanted to do was draw into a ball and howl with bitter regret. Staring hard at the floor, she shuddered with the effort not to break into humiliating sobs.

Zachary's bare feet came into her vision, and she started in surprise, for he had come to her as silently as a cat. He took her left hand, paused and stared down at it wordlessly. Suddenly Holly understood what he was looking at—the gold wedding band that she had never removed since the day her husband had placed it on her finger. Making a wretched sound, she snatched her hand from his and tugged at the ring. It was difficult to remove, and she twisted at it in a spasm of panic before it finally slid free. Dropping the circlet to the floor, she looked at the pale mark it had left on her finger and raised her tear-filled eyes to Zachary's blurred face.

She heard him murmur her name, and then, to her utter astonishment, she saw him sink to his knees and felt his huge hands clutching the folds of silk at her hips. He buried his face against her midriff like an exhausted child.

Shocked, Holly reached down to his dark hair. The thick, slightly curling strands were damp against her fingertips, and she stroked them lovingly. “Darling,” she whispered over and over, touching the hot nape of his neck.

Suddenly he rose in a fluid movement and stared into her upturned face. He wore the expression of a man who had journeyed through hellfire, and been scorched in the process.

“Damn you,” he muttered, wiping at her tears with his fingers. “I could throttle you for putting us both through this.”

“You told me not to come back,” she sobbed in painful relief. “I was so afraid to try…Y-you sounded so final…”

“I thought I was losing you. I didn't know what the hell I was saying.” He crushed her against his pounding heart, running his hands over her hair and completely disheveling it.

“You said no s-second chances.”

“A thousand chances for you. A hundred thousand.”

“I'm sorry,” she wept. “I'm so sorry—”

“I want you to marry me,” Zachary said in a guttural voice. “I'm going to bind you with every agreement and contract and ritual known to man.”

“Yes, yes…” Eagerly she pulled his head down to hers, kissing him with all the aching longing she had felt the past month. He made a rough sound and savaged her mouth with brutal passion, hurting her a little, but she was too wild with emotion to mind.

“I want you in my bed,” he said thickly. “Now.”

A crimson flood of color swept over her, and Holly barely managed a nod before he picked her up and carried her to the bed with the single-minded intensity of a starved jungle cat with its prey. It appeared she hadn't much choice in the matter—not that she had any thought of denying him. She loved him beyond propriety, beyond morals or ideals or sanity. She was his utterly, just as he was hers.

He undressed her swiftly, pulling hard at rows of buttons and hooks, tearing cloth when it would not yield quickly enough to his plundering fingers. Gasping at his urgency, Holly tried to help him, sitting on the bed to unlace her shoes, peeling away her garters and stockings, lifting her arms as he tugged her chemise over her head. When she was completely naked, her blushing body reclining back on the mattress, Zachary shed his robe and lowered himself beside her.