Page 96 of One Night with a Prince
As the baron stalked from the room, she heard Gavin mutter, “The hell you will, you slimy bastard.”
They were entirely alone in the cavernous card room. Wary of his mood, Christabel started to leave, but he added in a low voice, “Don’t go.”
She faced him wearily. “Gavin, there’s no point to this.”
“No point?” He strode up to her, then caught her head in his hands and kissed her, slowly, achingly. But when she only stood there woodenly, fighting the surge of feelings that his mouth sent coursing through her, he drew back with a curse. “The point is that we belong together. I miss you. And I can see from your eyes that you miss me, too. Why must you be so stubborn?”
“Why mustyou ? I’m trying to protect everything I hold dear—”
“I’ve already said I’ll not let any harm come to you or your father. But my mother deserves justice.”
“Don’t lie to yourself that you’re doing it for her.”
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“You think I’m doing it for me?” He released her abruptly. “I’m giving up the barony my bloody sire offered. And as you pointed out before, I could lose what little position I have in society. So what advantage will I gain from it?”
“An end to your guilt.”
He looked stricken. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve thought about it constantly ever since Bath. You blame yourself for your mother’s disfigurement, don’t you?”
A muscle worked in his jaw, but he didn’t answer.
“You blame yourself for not rousing—”
“I shouldn’t have slept through a fire, damn it! I shouldn’t have left her to carry me alone.”
“You weren’t asleep, Gavin,” she said gently. “You were overcome with smoke, which is common in a fire. Don’t blame yourself for making it necessary for her to wrap you in the rug. That was the fire’s fault, not yours, no matter what you’ve told yourself through the years. She had a hard choice to make, and she did what any mother would do—sacrificed for her son. But that doesn’t mean you should feel honor-bound to make it right.”
“How can I not?” he said hoarsely. “It’s more than just the fire. I wasn’t by Mother’s side in those difficult months in the hospital when I should have been. They told me she was dead, and like a fool I believed them.”
“You were twelve! You might have been running an E-O table by then, but you were still a child, and you thought like a child. The people in authority told you she was dead—why shouldn’t you believe them? No doubt you saw enough bodies come out of the building that night.”
She laid a hand on his rigid arm. “You have every right to be angry and hurt and bitter, my love. But wreaking havoc on His Highness won’t fix that. It certainly won’t help your mother.”
His body tensed, and he refused to look at her. “She’d have been better off if I’d never been born.”
Dear Lord, he truly believed that, didn’t he? “Oh, my love, don’t even think it. You’re the center of her life. I know she doesn’t regret one minute of having you. She would certainly not want you to do this and ruin your chances at a decent future. All she wants is for you to have a happy life.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “That’s what I want, too.”
His gaze swung to hers, fiery, furious. “You have an odd way of showing it. You refuse to share my bed, you refuse my offer of marriage—”
She snorted. “As if you really meant it.”
“Of course I meant it,” he protested. “I still do.”
She dropped her gaze from his. “I thought you might change your mind when you’d had a chance to reconsider.”
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“Well, I didn’t.” He slid his arm about her waist and pulled her close, then added in a husky rasp,
“You’re the only one keeping us from having a respectable connection, the only one putting conditions on our marriage. I want to marry you no matter what happens.”
She gazed up at him, torn between love and fear. “Then you must think beyond your vengeance to your future. How can we have a happy life with this cloud hanging over our heads?”
“All that matters is us. If we don’t care about public opinion—”
