“You could,” she said softly, the fight leaving her as she realized the truth of it. “You could if you wanted to.” She swallowed. “If you wanted me.”
His answering silence tore her apart.
Chapter 12
If he wanted her.
Her words hurt more than any weapon ever could.
If he wanted her?
He’d never wanted anything more. But he couldn’t have her. Couldn’t she see that? A woman like her wasn’t meant for a man like him.
Her eyes glistened in the moonlight as she waited for an answer that he could not give.
“I like you, Abigail.” It came out so low he wondered if she heard. It was a feeble sentence. A useless bundle of words. So horribly inaccurate it felt like a lie.
He liked his little cottage, now that he’d fixed it up a bit. With a little more work it might just be the home he’d always craved. He liked living near the sea. He liked warm days and mild nights.
He didn’t like Abigail.
Whatever this was he felt when she was near, it was so much more than that.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “You like me,” she repeated slowly. “But?”
“But I don’t want the type of life that you want.”
“How would you know what I want?” she snapped.
“I know you wish to marry,” he said. “You told me yourself that you want to start a family of your own. I cannot give you that.”
The words felt like shards of glass coming out of his mouth. This was hell on earth. Or some sort of punishment for past sins, at the very least. She was offering him everything he’d ever wanted in life and more. She was offering him all he never even knew to ask for. All he’d always known he couldn’t have.
Here she was, sweet temptation in person. And he had to deny her.
He had to, he reminded himself. Because she might be fooled into thinking her feelings were real today. She was young and sheltered, and one kiss would be enough to turn her head and fill her mind with romance.
But one day she’d mature. She’d look around her at all she might have had if he hadn’t taken advantage of her sweet heart and her kind nature.
In the end, she would resent him.
In the end, he would hate himself for being a selfish arse.
He hardened his voice. “I don’t want that, Abigail. But you do.” And you deserve that.
He knew better than to say it. Knew she’d fling it back in his face, or try to convince him that he was worthy. As if she knew all that he’d done in his life. He’d had his reasons, of course, but while that excuse kept his conscience clean, it did little to change reality. He’d spent the better part of his life on the wrong side of the law. He’d chosen a life well outside of society. He was in no way a match for a young lady like Abigail.
“You do not want—” She stopped and swallowed, tears overflowing now. “You do not want those things at all? Or you do not want them...with me?”
Curse it all. His insides were being shredded into strips with each passing second. He needed to end this. He needed her to leave. Off to London for months on end. By the time she returned she’d know the truth, of course.
But by the time she returned she’d be grateful he’d sent her away. She’d come back to find he was living here permanently, and she would thank him for not accepting her words when she was too naive to be giving them.
He’d already spoken to Mr. Laslow about buying the cottage. It was as good a place as any to settle down. It was the only place he’d found that felt like it could be home.
A voice of honesty ate at him, gnawing away at his gut. This place felt like home because of Abigail. Owning that cottage and starting a life here would ensure that she was always in his life, if only in the periphery.
Once Abigail left for good to start a life with the gentleman of her choosing she’d likely live elsewhere, but her family would be here.
And besides, after she was gone, someone would have to keep an eye out for the little ones whose parents were too busy with work to properly mind them. Not that he’d teach them like she did. But he could make sure they came to no harm, at least.
“You do not wish for family, Caleb?” she asked. She would not let this go. He should have known she wouldn’t. She shifted closer, her eyes squinting slightly as she peered up into his eyes. Seeking out the truth. Looking for his honesty. “Or do you not wish for a family with me?”
His lips parted but his chest tightened to the point where no words could escape. Pushing her away was hard enough. Lying to her outright was nearly impossible.
His mind chose that moment to call up a moment from earlier, just before Roger arrived when she’d asked him about his desire to return to a life at sea.
He didn’t want that. Not at all. He was done with being a nomad. Done with the constant battle. But it was an answer she would readily believe.
Reaching out, he couldn’t stop himself from touching her. Just one touch of her cheek so he could remember the feel of her soft skin beneath his calloused fingers. “It’s who I am, love.”
Love. That endearment was the closest he’d come to admitting it.
He loved her.
Maybe he’d loved her from the first moment he’d seen her. An angel in his midst. Every day he got to know her more—every word she spoke, every smile she gave, every child she showered with affection. His feelings for her had grown with all of it.
He hadn’t stood a chance.
A crinkle formed between her brows as pain tightened her features.
He drew in a deep
