“I don’t know for certain whether I wish to or not,” I snapped.
“Don’t you?”
How dare he turn this back to me? “He at least shares something of himself with me. Whatever Robert may be, he is not selfish. Or cowardly.” My chest heaved, rage thundering through my veins. Oh, how I wished to topple the wall of haughtiness Halstead hid behind.
“If you choose him—” He cut himself off and placed a hand on my shoulder. “He would douse your fire, Juliet.” I was struck by the look in his eyes, pierced to the very center. “You condemn me for my cowardice, but if you marry Mr. Nicholson, it will be because it is the safe choice, not the one your heart desires.”
“And you know so much of my heart, do you?”
Silence pulsed in the small space.
His fingers brushed down my cheek, leaving a trail of embers in their wake. “I want to, Juliet, more than I can ever remember wanting anything.” The cords in his throat tightened, and he lowered his voice until it was no more than a whisper. “But as much as I wish to . . . I can promise you nothing.”
His words halted my response, the only sounds the thrumming of my own pulse and his measured breaths.
My lungs refused to take in air, but somehow I managed to eke out two small words. “But why?”
He dropped his hand. Involuntarily I shivered. The hand that had warmed me a moment before was now fisted on his knee, his knuckles white with tension. I desperately yearned to take it, unfist it, and entwine it with my own. But I did not. Instead I clasped my own hands together to keep myself from doing something I’d regret.
I straightened my shoulders and met his gaze.
“We’d better return to our rooms. The storm has passed,” he said through gritted teeth.
“How can you tell?” I looked into his dimly lit face, all angles and harsh lines.
He rose. “I can feel it.” The bulk of him towered over me. Finally, he turned away, reaching for the doorknob.
But he was wrong. The tempest beyond the walls may have dissipated, but the storm inside me had only begun.
Chapter Fifteen
I lay in bed, the palm of my hand resting against my cheek. Sleep felt far away; every part of me was alert and awake, despite the late hour. When I closed my eyes, I imagined the tender feel of Halstead’s palm against mine, the security of my hand in his. And the dizzying wave of longing that came with it. A part of me wished to give in to that longing, throwing caution to the wind.
Thank heavens for the instinct that guarded my heart.
I hated the way things had ended between us. Something had changed between Halstead and me; some invisible barrier had been crossed, in him and myself. It was more than just how he’d held me in his arms as I cried hot tears against his chest. It was the words we had spoken—and all that had gone unsaid.
I’d taunted him in my frustration. And you know so much of my heart, do you?
His response echoed through my mind. I want to, Juliet, more than I can ever remember wanting anything.
Such words. They breathed inside of me, almost like a living thing, making me ache to know him. No matter how I tried to reason with myself, my heart overruled my head. I wanted more of us, more of him. More of who I was when I was with him.
With a sigh I turned to lie on my back, but even with my eyes open I could see his face. The creased lines in his forehead that spoke of concern. The way his mouth quirked as he listened to me intently. What was it about him that loosened my tongue and made me share my deepest fears and darkest memories? Blood rose to my cheeks as I thought about the way he’d held me in his arms. Even now, all alone, a blaze filled me as I remembered his warmth, his strength.
But as I lay in the darkness, the utter loss I’d felt as he’d pulled away from me returned. That hollowed-out feeling I was all too accustomed to.
The thrill of our time together, the passion of our words, faded into the night. My mind grew weary, and fears began to plague me. Perhaps my imaginings, my hopes were much wilder than they deserved to be. Halstead was a duke. One who had vowed he would never marry. And I was wise enough to know how much unhappiness, how much loneliness, how many repercussions could be caused by a marriage of social disparity.
And then a stinging reminder of Robert surfaced, of the pain he would feel if I rejected him. I could list countless reasons I should accept his affection and agree to marry him. Nine years of steadfast loyalty burned into my mind, encouraging me to put aside my reckless fascination with the Duke of Halstead.
For some reason, a memory from two summers ago came to mind. Robert and I had been out walking, trying to put off the reality of his imminent return to school. “Why must you leave?” I’d complained, only half joking. “Must you really go for this last year?”
There was a horrid monotony to life whenever Robert left. Without him, Aunt Agnes became more irritable and inevitably more demanding. Robert had turned to me then, with such sincerity etched in his face, that even now, over a year later, tears threatened to fall. “I’ll come back, Juliet. I always come back.”
And I knew he would; it was a promise I could hold to. So why did I feel so torn by Halstead’s words? Much as I wish to . . . I can promise you nothing. Nothing. The word reverberated through my mind.
Every thought, every feeling turned me this way and that, like a small boat afloat on a stormy sea. It wasn’t until
