Surrender to Me (The Derrings #4)(66)

Swiping at her nose again, she sank back down and answered in a small voice, “Quite.”

He studied her. “It’s all right if you’re not, you know.”

“Is it?” she asked, a surprising edge entering her voice, “How good of you to think so. However, my father would disagree. He expects me to wash away the shame I’ve brought to the family. To be a stalwart soldier and do as commanded. And to do so I must marry you.”

He winced, thinking that not all soldiers should follow the call of duty so zealously. He certainly wished he had not followed its call to a certain grassy plain.

With a shake of his head, he asked, “But what do you want?”

Dipping her head to the side, she admitted, “I want to marry.”

He nodded.

“But not you.” She shook her head in apology. “Sorry.”

He smiled wryly. “Don’t be.”

She bit her lip and released it. “I want to marry Andrew.”

“Who is Andrew?”

“My father’s coachman.”

“Ah. And would Andrew be who you first thought me to be when I joined you in this corridor?”

She averted her gaze, and he caught a hint of blush staining her cheeks in the glow of dawn. A moment passed before she lifted her chin. “He loves me. He loved me before Bertram…“Her voice faded. She fisted the fabric of her gown, and he well imagined the dark roads her mind traveled. “He loves me still,” she finished.

“Then why not marry him?”

She snorted. “Father would not permit it.”

Griffin shook his head. He felt like he was talking to Astrid all over again. “Ever thought of going against Daddy?”

She pulled back, clearly startled. “And live where? How? Times are difficult. Assuming Andrew finds another position, he can scarcely support himself, much less a family.”

“So what? You’ll marry me, then? Even while you love someone else? Someone willing and eager to marry you? Will that make you happy?” Anger swelled inside him. An anger that could not be rested entirely at her feet. Astrid would do the same thing——had, in fact. She had wed the man her father chose…living unhappily ever after to the moment of his death.

“Happy?” she murmured. “When has happiness ever been an issue.”

“Hell,” he muttered, looking away, dragging a hand through his hair and watching the play of light on the stained glass. “You sound like Astrid.” Both women too stubborn to escape the prison they were born into. Even when the door was unlocked before them, they remained within.

Reaching a decision, he looked back at Petra and bit out, “Consider yourself engaged.”

She responded slowly, “Are you asking--”

“I’m telling you,” he ground out.

She stared at him a long moment, her eyes bleak as they scanned his face. “Very well,” she agreed.

He nodded. Disgusted. Convinced. Another woman lost to duty’s path. Rot them both. She and Astrid. Damned martyrs. Turning, he strode back to his chamber without another word, his hunger forgotten, determination burning through him.

“Griffin! Wait!”

He paused, looking over his shoulder.

Petra rose and took a halting step from the alcove, her skirts rustling. “What are you going to do?”

“Fetch the reverend, of course. Inform my grandfathers I’ll be back posthaste, would you?” His lips twisted in a smile. “Meanwhile, prepare yourself for your wedding.”

Chapter 24
Astrid woke with a deep stretch. Soft light poured into the room from the single mullioned window. She sat up, holding the linens tightly to her nakedness as she glanced about the large chamber, so different in the light of day, free of flickering shadows. Free of Griffin.

Falling back on the bed, she stared at the canopy above her, fingers drawing small, worrisome circles over her stomach, wondering where he had gone.

Did he regret last night, knowing, as she, that nothing could come of it?

And yet they had surrendered to desire, committing madness with one another again. Selfish, she knew. She had not changed her mind regarding his marrying Petra. She still believed that it would be the right thing, the proper thing. For Petra and Griffin both.

Still gazing at the canopy, she willed herself to rise, her molten limbs to move, to dress and prepare herself to say good-bye to Griffin.

She rubbed chilled fingertips over her brow, wondering how she could return to her old life as though nothing had happened. As if Griffin had not happened. As if she had not changed, experiencing life for the first time. How would she even fit into that world anymore?

Suddenly she felt relief to have woken alone. Better that Griffin was not here as she reached these sobering conclusions. Better that she was granted much needed time to compose herself without his absorbing presence. The last thing she needed was to become confused again. To feel again. To let desire cloud her head.

A swift knock sounded on the door. She clutched the counterpane tighter about herself and surged up in bed, her gaze darting for her clothing. The door swung open before she had a chance to call out.

The maid from last night stood in the threshold with a pitcher in her hands. “Ah, you’re awake. Thought you might like some fresh water for washing.” Her gaze scanned Astrid, knowing and smug. “Slept well, did you?”