Page 27 of When her Duke Returns
“Why haven’t you spoken to me since I arrived?” she asked, then, and it took him aback.
“I have,” he answered plainly. It was a half-truth, at best, if one counted greetings and goodnights.
“No,” she tested, inspecting the cuts at her knees. “You’ve spokenaroundme but nottome. That’s quite different.”
“You’ve been busy with Antony. If not him, then Cecelia or your mother,” he suggested.
She shook her head softly. “You’re avoiding me.”
“I—” Alexander began, but he would not lie to her. “Yes.”
Mary let out an unsteady breath as if she trying to choke back tears, and it made his throat close up. “Why?”
He came to sit beside her. “Because it’s not right.”
“What isn’t?”
Alexander chuckled in exasperation. “Why must you ask so manyquestions?”
“Fine,” she replied. “Kiss me.”
“What?”
“That wasn’t a question,” she mused though her face remained clear of emotion. “Kiss me.”
“Mary,” Alexander groaned and ran his hands over his face. “You’re impossible, and at a time like this… You are bleeding!”
“You’remaking excuses,” she retorted, and her voice rose to a shout. “Why is it so hard now when it was so easy a few weeks past? Why, when I want it, does it becomeimpossible? It’s not fair.”
“None of this is fair!” he bellowed, and a small flight of birds sprang out from the bushes. “Mary!” he added through an exasperated laugh. “What are you doing to me? What do youwant? When we were set to be married, you could hardly stomach the sight of me. What has changed, aside from my looking less like a man than a monster?”
“Everything!” she bawled back with a cry to rival his own. “You are plainly at fault, and the fact that you would seek to deny it and turn things around on me…” She tried to rise to a stand then sat down again once she recalled her twisted ankle. “If you do not want me, how do you explain what transpired at your dinner? Did your hand slip, perhaps? Could it be that I mistook your fingers for another’s? I suppose Mr. Parcell did quite like me.”
Alexander rolled to his feet. “I was out of my mind with drink, you know that.”
“And the kiss, then, in the churchyard? Were you not sober, then?”
He grew more pained with each lie he was forced to tell, but he had to do away with her for her own good. “I was… incited by the moment, the suddenness of it all.”
“And intruding at Summerhead? Riding down to interrupt my engagement ball of all things! Will you explain that away, like the rest? Will you blame your folly on me?”
“Look!” he cried then with great gravity, and Mary almost fell backward into the pool of water. “I do not want you in that way. Perhaps, at one point, I did… in that foolish way men crave the familiarity of a body.”
“Familiarity of a body?” she spat back in echo. “There is nothing familiar about our bodies. You may think you are clever and convincing, but I know there is more to this.” She clawed at his shirt then to bring him to eye level with her. “What are you not telling me? Alexander—”
At that, he pressed his lips fervently against hers if only to keep her quiet. The kiss was not as gentle as the one before it as their mouths met hard and quickly. She lifted herself off the lip of the fountain by grabbing the back of his neck, willing herself into him… and it took every ounce of strength for Alexander to pull away, once he was fairly certain she had been subdued. He rested his head close to hers, his eyes tightly shut.
“That is the last of it, Mary. There can be no more. Not while you are already promised to another man, and I am in no position to welcome more heartache.” And then he said something quite peculiar, quite unlike himself. “I cannot fall in love with you again.”
ChapterTwelve
“Have I ever told you,” Harry began, “just how much I detest the sand?”
Mary glanced over to her brother who looked shockingly good against the azure hues of the sky and the sea on the horizon in his cream-colored shirt and breeches. The family had ventured down to Bridgemouth Beach which was but a stone’s throw from Whitcliff earlier that day to revel in the sun while it was out. Lady Carlisle had thought it most important to lavish her children with a true taste of the coast before the end of Summer.
Mary lay back down against the wood of the pier, her bruised feet dangling eagerly over the edge, and smiled. “Countless times, brother. Though I never tire of hearing you complain as you well know.”
Harry scoffed and looked out over the interminable silvery blue of the ocean. “Any person with sense would know that even the poorest example of my company is better than the rest.”
