Bainbridge's face.
'That is why I followed you to Bath,' he insisted. He held fast to her hands. 'That is why I insisted on speaking with you. Marry me, Kit. Marry me, and make me the happiest man in England.'
She disengaged herself from his grasp and sidled over to the window. Her stomach churned. 'But would you be?'
He frowned. 'What sort of a question is that?'
She licked her dry lips. 'Would you be happy?'
'I just told you-'
'But you must admit this is a rather sudden change of heart…' Her voice trailed off in a whisper.
'Is it that I am a rake, and you think me unable to settle down?'
'That is part of it, my lord.'
'Nicholas,' he prompted in a soft voice.
She shook her head. 'No, my lord, I think it more prudent if I maintain at least the illusion of formality between us.'
'Kit, tell me what is wrong.' His velvet brown eyes pleaded with her.
She clenched her fingers in the folds of her skirt to still their trembling. 'I cannot marry you.'
Shock drained all color from his handsome features. 'Kit, I just told you that I want you above all other women to be my wife and the mother of my children. I want you.'
Calm, she must be calm about this, even though her heart was beating like the wings of a caged bird. She swallowed hard. 'I am very flattered, my lord, but I still cannot marry you.'
His nostrils flared; his dark eyes turned from pleading to piercing. 'You can at least tell me why.'
Kit wrapped her arms around her body. 'You once told me that, when you married, you would choose a wellbred lady who held not one ounce of affection for you.'
His hands flexed into fists. 'That was before I fell in love with you.'
Sweet heaven! Tears formed a lump at the back of her throat. 'I thought love was an unnecessary complication.'
He strode over and seized her by the shoulders. 'By all that's holy, Kit, stop throwing my words back in my face. Don't you understand? I love you.'
I love you.
Oh, how she had longed to hear that phrase, first from her father, then from her husband. And now they had come from a man she was not sure she could trust.
He ran a gentle finger down the length of her jaw. She shivered.
'I love you,' he repeated, 'and I think you love me. You would not have run away from me so quickly if you did not. You loved me, and I hurt you, so you fled.'
'I was very foolish to have gotten involved with you,' she said, her voice wavering with emotion.
'Kit.' He drew her closer to him. 'Why do you torture me like this?'
She placed her hands on his chest and tried to push herself away. 'This is a farce, my lord. Please let me go.'
He did not release her. 'No. Do you love me?'
She turned away. She could not escape. 'Yes.'
'Then marry me.' The marquess turned her to face him, leaned down, and brushed his lips over hers. His hands slid down her back and over her waist. 'You know how good it would be between us. I love you, Kit. I want you in my bed night after night.'
Kit moaned. Oh, how she had longed for his touch, his kiss, the sensation of his body against hers. At this moment she wanted nothing more than to surrender, to give in to this passionate embrace…
A warning sounded at the back of her mind, faint but insistent.
How many other women had succumbed to his sweet words and tender caresses? Done whatever he wanted for the promise of pleasure? She had nearly fallen into this trap once; she would not do so again.
Anger flared hot within her; she shoved at his chest, then wrenched herself from his arms. 'I cannot believe you would stoop to this! You simply march into my home, declare your undying love, ply me with a few kisses, and expect me to fall at your feet? You have not changed in the least, my lord; you still do not hesitate to employ seduction to bend a woman to your will.'
Storm clouds gathered on Lord Bainbridge's brow. 'Kit, what do you want from me?'
Her hands shook, but she no longer bothered to hide it. 'I suppose I want something that you cannot give me.'
'What-love?' he demanded. 'I have already told you I love you, and that is something I have never said to another woman. What more do you want?'
'Trust,' she said.
He stared at her, his forehead furrowed in confusion.
She stood in the middle of the drawing room, her body stiff, her hands balled into fists at her sides. A tear escaped her control and glided in a wet trail down her cheek; she brushed it away with impatient fingers. 'You deceived me, Nicholas. And yes, you hurt me. Deeply. But even more than that, you destroyed the trust I had in you.
'And now you come here and ask me to marry you, and either you do not believe I know my own mind, or you fear I will refuse you, so you attempt to seduce me into accepting you.' She shook her head. Another teardrop joined the first. 'Love requires trust, my lord. And without it, there can be nothing between us.'
He reached out a hand to her, then let it fall. 'I love you, Kit,' he said, his voice raw. 'You love me. I thought that was all we needed to be happy.'
'Happy?' She blinked furiously against the onslaught of her tears. 'How could I be happy wondering if my husband just came from another woman's bed?'
'I have broken it off with my mistress,' he replied with a growl. 'I did that two weeks ago, directly after you left Broadwell. I do not want a paramour, Kit; I want you. How many times do I have to say it?'
'How can I be happy wondering if every kiss, every tender touch did not have some secret design behind it?'
His jaw tightened. 'Is that all you think me capable of?'
'You came to Bath for the purpose of courting me, did you not?' she countered.
He blinked. 'Well… yes.'
'Ordinarily, my lord, when a gentleman courts a lady he sends her flowers or billets-doux. He does not hound her every step and seek to subvert her disdain for him with kisses and seductive banter.'
The marquess scowled. 'You used to find my kisses and seductive banter appealing.'
'So would any woman, my lord. But the fact that you use them indiscriminately tells me that I am nothing special to you.'
His shoulders slumped. 'Where does that leave us?' he asked quietly.
How tired he looked. More than tired… exhausted. Lines of weariness pulled at his mouth; shadows smudged the skin beneath his dark eyes. Kit resisted the urge to reach up and smooth away the lock of black hair that had fallen over his forehead.
'I do not know.' She turned away. 'Go back to London, my lord. Find a lady who does not love you and marry her instead.'
'If I do, both of us will be miserable,' he stated. 'Kit, how can I prove that you can trust me?'
She nibbled at her lower lip. 'I cannot say.'
A strange expression crossed Lord Bainbridge's face. 'Would you marry me if I could?'
She regarded him with open skepticism. 'Yes, but how can one quantify such a thing as trust?'
He walked slowly over to her, took her hands in his, and held them. No teasing, no surreptitious brushing of his fingers over her wrist. Just his strong hands enveloping her smaller ones. 'Let me make you a bargain, then.'
Kit's eyes widened, and the floor seemed to drop away beneath her. 'Oh, no.' She tried to pull away. 'Not another one. I am not as jingle-brained as all that!'
He did not release her. 'Hear me out. Please.'
Kit swallowed around her suddenly dry tongue. 'What… what sort of bargain?'
