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Authors: Elena Greene
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more. None of those things mattered if he couldn’t have Harry. Ever since he’d come up with the notion of marrying her, he’d been building a picture in his mind of what their life together would be like. How they’d ride, play and work together, how he would reintroduce her into society and make sure everyone knew exactly what a splendid person she was.
He loved Harry , he realized with a sudden blinding clarity. He probably always had. He couldn’t imagine a future without her. And yet he’d almost jeopardized their future, just for a brief passionate encounter with a beautiful stranger.
“Good-bye,” he said, taking one last look at Diana. She was sitting perfectly still, and looked pale and fragile somehow. He hated having upset her, but there was nothing he could do to console her now.
He wrenched himself away and ran, plunging down a path at random. He finally stopped when he’d reached the opposite corner of the garden, where another small fountain gurgled. Going up to it, he scooped up a handful of water and splashed it over his face, hoping it would cool him. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands.
How could he have come so close to losing control? When so many others had failed, how could this one woman have tempted him almost beyond bearing? But he had resisted, he reminded himself. He’d gone away before he’d even kissed Diana, or whoever she was, yet he didn’t feel at all victorious. He felt like a scoundrel to have left her in such a way. She was probably crying her eyes out right now.
But it was better this way. He didn’t think Diana was really cut out for the dangerous game she had tried to play. Perhaps this incident would convince her to give up her search for a lover and leave her free to meet a man who would restore her faith in marriage. What was wrong with him, that he felt jealousy at the thought?
He had better concentrate on his feelings for Harry. Instantly, his mind’s eye conjured up a vision of her at the stables: flushed, with a bit of straw in her hair, shy and appealing. Suddenly he felt restless with the desire to see her again and show her how he felt, but mingled with his eagerness was a growing sense of guilt and unworthiness. He’d laughed when she had accused him of being a rake, but was she right? Was he really so depraved that he might betray his love for her?
No, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He had vowed he would be a faithful husband to Harry, and so he would be. They would have a perfect marriage; no two people were ever more suited for each other.
As he thought this, however, his confidence wavered. With a pain akin to a blow, he remembered that Harry loved him only as a sister would. She had proposed the wager in the first place, but it was clear she had not dreamed that she might lose. It would be horribly unjust to hold her to their bargain. If she married him, it would have to be of her own free will, because she loved him, too.
It was going to be difficult, but Julian knew what he had to do. Tomorrow, he’d have to release Harry from their bargain. At the same time, he would begin to woo her in earnest. But even as he planned, a painful anxiety shook him. After such a wretched start, what were his chances of success?
* * *
Harry sat forlornly in the carriage, swaying and bumping over the long road home.
She’d failed.
She tried not to think about Julian’s face as he pulled away, exclaiming that he couldn’t kiss her. Afterwards, he’d said he loved someone else, but it was clear that was simply an excuse.
She fought back sudden tears. She’d wanted to cry when Julian had run off, but instead she’d snatched up his helmet and run back to the carriage. She cradled the helmet in her lap, remembering how handsome Julian had looked attired as a knight of bygone days. She’d played on his sympathy and aroused his gallantry, but when all was said and done that was not enough. She
He loved Harry , he realized with a sudden blinding clarity. He probably always had. He couldn’t imagine a future without her. And yet he’d almost jeopardized their future, just for a brief passionate encounter with a beautiful stranger.
“Good-bye,” he said, taking one last look at Diana. She was sitting perfectly still, and looked pale and fragile somehow. He hated having upset her, but there was nothing he could do to console her now.
He wrenched himself away and ran, plunging down a path at random. He finally stopped when he’d reached the opposite corner of the garden, where another small fountain gurgled. Going up to it, he scooped up a handful of water and splashed it over his face, hoping it would cool him. He sat down on the edge of the fountain, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands.
How could he have come so close to losing control? When so many others had failed, how could this one woman have tempted him almost beyond bearing? But he had resisted, he reminded himself. He’d gone away before he’d even kissed Diana, or whoever she was, yet he didn’t feel at all victorious. He felt like a scoundrel to have left her in such a way. She was probably crying her eyes out right now.
But it was better this way. He didn’t think Diana was really cut out for the dangerous game she had tried to play. Perhaps this incident would convince her to give up her search for a lover and leave her free to meet a man who would restore her faith in marriage. What was wrong with him, that he felt jealousy at the thought?
He had better concentrate on his feelings for Harry. Instantly, his mind’s eye conjured up a vision of her at the stables: flushed, with a bit of straw in her hair, shy and appealing. Suddenly he felt restless with the desire to see her again and show her how he felt, but mingled with his eagerness was a growing sense of guilt and unworthiness. He’d laughed when she had accused him of being a rake, but was she right? Was he really so depraved that he might betray his love for her?
No, he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He had vowed he would be a faithful husband to Harry, and so he would be. They would have a perfect marriage; no two people were ever more suited for each other.
As he thought this, however, his confidence wavered. With a pain akin to a blow, he remembered that Harry loved him only as a sister would. She had proposed the wager in the first place, but it was clear she had not dreamed that she might lose. It would be horribly unjust to hold her to their bargain. If she married him, it would have to be of her own free will, because she loved him, too.
It was going to be difficult, but Julian knew what he had to do. Tomorrow, he’d have to release Harry from their bargain. At the same time, he would begin to woo her in earnest. But even as he planned, a painful anxiety shook him. After such a wretched start, what were his chances of success?
* * *
Harry sat forlornly in the carriage, swaying and bumping over the long road home.
She’d failed.
She tried not to think about Julian’s face as he pulled away, exclaiming that he couldn’t kiss her. Afterwards, he’d said he loved someone else, but it was clear that was simply an excuse.
She fought back sudden tears. She’d wanted to cry when Julian had run off, but instead she’d snatched up his helmet and run back to the carriage. She cradled the helmet in her lap, remembering how handsome Julian had looked attired as a knight of bygone days. She’d played on his sympathy and aroused his gallantry, but when all was said and done that was not enough. She
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