She saw the hurt in his eyes and it made her own ache intensify a millionfold. But she couldn’t lie. “Yes,” she whispered.
He flinched and closed his eyes briefly. “And you thought that it would be easier to avoid the conversation altogether than to reject me.”
It wasn’t a question, but still she said, “Yes.”
He stared at her for a long, excruciatingly quiet moment. Then he shook his head slowly, his brows coming down in confusion. “Why?”
She blinked in surprise. Wasn’t it obvious?
She blinked again when his expression shifted from confusion to suspicion and he took a giant stride in her direction, closing the gap so thoroughly that she could not breathe.
Well, she could, but she didn’t wish to. If she were to inhale his scent, feel his warmth…
She didn’t trust herself to be strong. But she needed to be, for his sake.
He leaned in close, his eyes peering at her as though she were a science experiment. “Why, Pru? Why would you say no when I know for certain that you love me?”
16
As far as proposals went, this was not exactly what he’d had in mind. Damian hadn’t spent much time daydreaming about how he’d one day propose, but if he had, he wouldn’t have guessed that it would be like this.
Demanding the woman he loved to admit that she loved him back.
But now that the word ‘love’ was out there, and his gamble paid off because the look in her eyes…
It said everything.
He’d been right. Her shock, her horror… While they were hardly flattering—horror was not the first emotion he’d hoped to see during his proposal—they were the affirmation he needed. Rudely jabbing a finger in her direction, he couldn’t help but crow, “I knew it.”
She jerked back as if he’d struck her. “You...what?”
“I knew you loved me.” He stalked toward her. If she thought he was going to let her run away again, she could think again.
“I-I didn’t say that,” she said.
“But you do.”
She glared.
He grinned.
This was more like it. “Why did you run, Pru? Why did you leave without a goodbye when you had to know that I’m in love with you, too.”
His voice rose in anger as he spoke and he ended with a huff. No, that was definitely not how he’d planned to tell her that he loved her. But now that his panic over her welfare was fading, frustration was taking its place.
And, if he were being totally honest, alongside frustration there was pain. His pride was stinging and his chest still ached just as it had when he’d discovered she’d left without so much as a farewell.
“Y-you’re in love with me?” she echoed. Her eyes were deliciously dazed. “But you can’t be.”
He frowned, his hands on his hips as he glowered at her. “And why is that?”
“Because I’m not—that is, I will never be….” She seemed to give up with a loud sigh of exasperation that was so very Pru it made his lips twitch with amusement.
Her mouth pursed and her expression became unbearably superior. So very sanctimonious. “What you feel for me isn’t love, Damian.”
“I beg your pardon,” he interrupted.
“It’s sympathy,” she continued. He caught a flicker of a wince before she added, “It’s pity.”
“Sympathy? Pity?” His head jerked back and his voice was so loud he wouldn’t be surprised if her friends rushed in to save her. Running a hand through his mussed hair, he gave his head a shake in disbelief. “You think I want to marry you out of pity?”
She pressed her lips together tighter. Priggish Pru in all her glory. With a little shrug, she added, “You feel sorry for me. Admit it.”
He leaned in toward her, lowering his voice as he tried to contain his frustration. “You are a very difficult woman to feel sorry for, do you know that?” He started pacing to keep from reaching for her. He wanted to pull her close, to kiss her, to make her promise that she would never run from him again.
But he couldn’t do any of that until he got this simple truth through her thick skull. “I do feel sorry that you were stuck with such a poor excuse for a guardian your whole life,” he said, still pacing as she stood still as a statue in the center of the room. Her hands folded neatly, her face composed as she’d been taught.
“See?” Pru sniffed. “It’s merely sympathy because you are a kind man.”
“Kind...kind?”
Her brows drew together at his insensible railing, but really. Kind? That was all she saw in him?
She drew in a deep breath. “Yes, kind. But one day you will realize that you don’t really love me and you’ll regret your decision. I am not fit to be a marchioness and I am not the woman you should be tied to for the rest of your life.”
He gaped at her for a long, tense moment.
“Prudence Pottermouth.” He drew her name out as he moved toward her slowly. “I’ve called you many names over the years and have accused you of being a goody two shoes, a prudish prig, a—”
“Is there a point to this?” she snapped.
“Yes, because I never once suspected you to be a martyr.”
She stiffened, her brows drawing down as she returned his glare.
“It seems I’ll have to add that to your list of faults,” he continued. “And yes, I am well aware of your faults, just as I suspect you are very well acquainted with mine.”
She pinched her lips together tight and he could practically see her tallying a list of said faults.
“But if you’d let me continue, I was going to say that while I do feel sorry for your plight, I am not asking for your hand out of some sense of obligation. You more than anyone ought
