Page 87 of A Christmas Temptation for the Duke
“I cannot.”
Each word spoken was like a dagger through her chest. She winced and leaned back. She half-turned to flee. A sickness grew inside of her that she wanted to let out… or to let consume her because the world started to collapse and she would have loved nothing more than to be buried by it.
“You are kind,” he said, his voice turning soft. “You are a pure soul… perhaps the most wonderful person I know. And what you deserve is a man who can give you everything. A man who treats you as you need to be treated.”
“That’s you,” she tried weakly. “You, Daniel. You are the only person who has ever…” She sniffed as her throat began to close. “Who has ever seen me. Who has treated me with anything close to –”
“I did what I had to,” he said. “It does not make me a hero. And it does not make me worthy of your love.”
“Tell me…” It took all the power she had to look at him. Her chin wobbled. Tears welled. And when she saw his eyes, how sad they were, how devoid of the fire that so often burned in them, she wanted to weep. “Do you love me too?”
He sighed and shook his head. “I am set to leave tomorrow, and nothing will change that. I am so sorry, Alison. You have no idea how much.”
“No…” The dagger in her chest twisted and she reeled back.
“Please…” He reached out, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Do not waste tears on my account. Believe me, I am not worth them.”
“You are.”
“No, I am not.”
He was standing over her suddenly. One hand still rested on her cheek, the other somehow found her waist. She sniffed back the tears and found his eyes one final time. She wanted him to see how much he had hurt her… and how much she loved him. Despite his rejection, that would not change.
Alison could not say how it happened.
In that moment, she was not inside her own body. It was as if she watched from afar, a means to separate herself from the pain. And as she watched, Daniel stepped into her, leaned down, and kissed her full on the lips.
It was a soft kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of finality. Their tongues did not lap. Their beating hearts did not match. They did not meld together, becoming one, forgetting the world around them as if that kiss were all which mattered.
It was, for all intents and purposes, a kiss that said goodbye.
Alison held it for as long as she could. She felt Daniel’s lips, she breathed him in, she reached for him as if she meant never to let go. But her hands did not find him, unable to grasp on because he refused to let her.
When he pulled back, she stumbled and started to weep. Then she turned her back on him, knowing that the kiss was the last thing she would have to remember him by.
“You should go,” he spoke softly. “Please, Alison. Go and…” He swallowed. “And forget me. I promise, it is for the best.”
Alison did not remember leaving his office.
She did not remember the walk home. Just as she did not remember crawling into bed. All she remembered was that final kiss, and it stayed on her lips and pierced her through the heart as she pulled the blankets over herself and wept and wept and wept.
Daniel was gone. He did not love her. And once again, she was alone.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
It was no surprise that Alison had little sleep that night. Just as it was no surprise that she was awake well before the sun rose.
She lay in bed as she watched it slowly peak above the horizon, its white light cold and menacing. There was no hint of a storm lurking in the sky, but she felt as if there was one hovering above her. She could feel it threatening to break and wreak havoc with her mood as if it had a personal vendetta against her happiness.
And sadly, I doubt the storm will leave me anytime soon. Likely, it will drown me before I find any sense of reprieve. In fact, I want it to come and take me, so I might be done with feeling this way.
The only happiness that Alison could find was Pickle, who sniffed at her face, licked her nose, and yapped playfully as if it was trying to uplift her.
“Not now, Pickle…” She rolled over and pushed the dog away, but it refused to back down. “What do you want?” she moaned, starting to understand why her family so often became frustrated with the little dog.
It wanted to go outside, of course, a chance to stretch its feet and cock its leg over a bush so it might mark its territory for the morning. Unable to sleep, not wanting to, Alison relented and climbed from bed, slipped a winter coat over her shoulders, and crept gingerly through the silent manor.
When she reached the front of the manor, she was struck by the cold of morning, electing to stay near the front door. Putting Pickle down, she watched it scamper ahead and dive into the snow and then vanish behind some hedges.
