Too Wilde to Wed (The Wildes of Lindow Castle, #2)(84)

He moved toward her as she blinked away the tears. “We’re friends, Diana. Friends. Why can’t I help you?”

“No.”

“What else can you—” He sounded exasperated.

“I am not that woman,” she snapped, trying to stop him from saying whatever he had in mind.

A look of horror crossed his face. “I would never ask you to be my mistress.”

His recoil shouldn’t have felt like an insult. In fact, if she had been capable of it, she would have been amused by the evident distaste on his face.

“I know that,” she answered. “But nothing that has happened between us requires you to be responsible for me.”

“My rank made it impossible for you to refuse my offer of marriage,” he said, obstinate as a mule.

Diana almost laughed. “If my mother hadn’t been blackmailing me, you would have been refused so quickly that your wig would have spun around.” Then she flinched. Would she never learn to hold her tongue and not say the first thing that came to mind?

“I see,” he said stiffly, the future Duke of Lindow very much in evidence. “Is that why you gave such little weight to your promise to wed me?”

“I would have kept my promise, under ordinary circumstances.” By which she meant, if she’d wanted to marry him.

If she hadn’t been forced by her mother.

If she’d loved him.

His eyes, furiously angry now, were locked on hers. “What if we had married? Would you have played me false because you didn’t really mean your vows, owing to these ‘out of the ordinary circumstances’?”

“No!”

A harsh sound came from his throat. “I don’t believe you. You took the easiest road, allowing people to believe what they wished, and the devil with the consequences. It was easier for you to accept my hand than not, so you did so, telling yourself your promise wasn’t important, because of ‘circumstances.’ When I no longer served your purpose, you left without farewell or explanation.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It was easier for you to tell my aunt that your nephew was mine, rather than tell the truth. There are those who would say that you sacrificed my reputation as a man and a gentleman in order to allow you and the child to live in comfort in my family’s home.”

“You think—” she cried, and stopped. She had done all those things, though they hadn’t been easy. None of it had been comfortable. “I meant to marry you, and I would have been faithful,” she said, her voice shaking.

His eyes met hers, level. They weren’t contemptuous or bitter. He had assessed her—and she had been found lacking.

If anything, he looked sad.

Nausea washed over her.

“It’s not really your fault,” he said, as if he could hear her thoughts.

She couldn’t find words. North pulled a handkerchief from somewhere and blotted a tear from her cheek. “I apologize,” he said, sounding tired. “My emotions are overwrought. My lack of insight is no excuse for behaving like an ass.”

“It didn’t cross my mind to leave you a letter, but I shall always regret my lapse.”

In another man, that might have been a recoil. His eyes turned a shade darker.

“All my attention was on Godfrey,” she added desperately, her stomach twisting. No matter what she said, she seemed to be making it worse and worse. She hated that he was making her feel not just humiliated and apologetic, but crushed. And yet she felt she deserved every word he said.

“Whereas all my attention was on you,” North said, between clenched teeth. Then, abruptly, as if he couldn’t stop himself, he stepped forward and drew her into his arms. His kiss was violent and possessive. Their tongues warred, making her body ache so that she writhed against him.

Her back thumped against the door and the wood creaked again as he thrust his hips against her. Again and again, until she was aching for him to tear open his breeches and thrust inside, holding her so tightly that she wouldn’t have to make a decision and could simply surrender to the moment. To the pleasure.

But he stopped the kiss as abruptly as he had begun it.

Diana fell back against the door, one hand instinctively coming to her lips. They felt hot and swollen. North stared back at her, his face once again unreadable.

“I will support you and the boy, Diana,” he stated, his voice harsh. “If you need anything, anything, you will write to me, and no one but me.”

Her breath was so lost somewhere in her ribs that she couldn’t shriek at him, which was just as well. The children were not far away.

“I will never again treat you as any less than the lady you are.” He sounded as if he was making a promise to himself.

North might promise to treat her as a lady, but his promise was as thin as hers to marry him. He had kissed her as if he couldn’t control himself. The night before, in a fog of champagne and desire, she had grabbed the pudding, and had done—other things.

Unladylike things.

He opened the door and strode down the corridor without a backward glance.

If he were to hide her away in a cottage, it would be found out. He was dreaming if he thought a sordid fact like that would remain a secret for long.

Even worse, she suspected they would be unable to resist each other. She’d be damned if she let him turn her into a notoriously fallen woman—again.