Viscount Breckenridge to the Rescue

He stared at her. He’d had her; she’d been with him, following, coming around. .

Facing the river, as if she could hear him she shook her head. “There were an awful lot of ifs and buts in that, and none of them changed anything.” She glanced at him, her eyes narrowing, her gaze sharpening. “You didn’t expect to charm me into marrying you, did you?”

Yes, I did.

Lips pressed tight, he slumped back against the wall, looked up at the sky. Few women were immune to his persuasive charm, but, of course, she had to be one. Inwardly swearing, he rapidly canvassed his options.

Dropped all pretense and sat up. “Listen — we cannot go on as we are with absolutely nothing decided.”

“On the contrary, there’s nothing to decide. You made an offer motivated by honor, and I refused.”

“That’s not the end of it.”

“Yes, it is — and if all you have to say is simply a restatement of what you’ve already said, then I believe we have nothing more to discuss.” Nose in the air, Heather tensed to rise.

Breckenridge’s hand clamped heavily on her arm. “No, you don’t — just sit still and listen.”

His growl, the possessive grip, spurred her temper. She whipped around and glared at him. “Why? So you can browbeat me into agreeing?” She shook off his hand and surged to her feet.

He stood, too, quickly facing her, blocking her way. “Heather—”

“No!” Temper in the ascendant, she poked a finger at his chest. “It’s your turn to listen — and listen well. If you don’t feel the degree of affection for me that I require in my prospective husband, then I will not marry you — and I am not about to agree to a wedding on speculation!”

His face decidedly grim, his expression for once some indication of his temper, he glared at her. “Damn it! There’s only so much I can give — that I can offer you.”

“You can give whatever you want — if you truly wanted to!”

He shifted closer, looming nearer, his eyes agate hard boring into hers. “We need to get married. That’s an inescapable fact. We have to come to some arrangement so our wedding can proceed — which means you have to grow up, set aside any rosy, starry-eyed notions, and deal with the realities of our world. You need to reassess, you need to be reasonable, then you need to tell me what I can give you that will enable you to agree to become my wife.”

She held his gaze. And felt fury burn.

Because she was starting to suspect that Catriona might be right, that behind his smooth, polished facade, Breckenridge might actually feel for her everything she wanted him to feel.

More, that he might know he did, but — witness his charming words, his roundabout arguments — for some impenetrable male reason he was unwilling to declare that truth, not in any way, shape, or form.

So he was going to be difficult. But if there was any chance at all that he, arrogant, infuriating, and irritating though he was, was her fated hero, that he and this was her chance to seize a future as glowing as any she’d ever dreamed, then there was likewise no chance that she would — that she could — give up and walk away.

The love of such a man is worth fighting for.

Catriona’s words rang in her head.

Rising up on her toes, eyes locked with his, she simply said, “Give me one good reason why I should.”

His temper was as close to the surface as hers. She all but saw the hot words leap to his tongue — but he pressed his lips even tighter together, holding the impulsive, sure to be revealing response back. .

Eventually, his tone rigidly controlled, he replied, “We need to get married because that is the only acceptable outcome.”

She held his gaze, felt his will, implacable and utterly compelling, beat about her.

Felt her own stubbornness well. Harden.

Felt her temper surge, hot and scalding.

She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind — fury clogged her throat.

“Arrrgh!” She flung up her hands, swung on her heel, and stormed off through the gardens.

Breckenridge watched her go. Heard the gravel crunch beneath her feet, read the fury in every stride, the anger investing every line of her svelte form.

The words he’d uttered, and those he hadn’t, echoed in his head. We need to get married because that is the only acceptable outcome. . to me.

If he’d been honest enough, brave enough, to give voice to the last two words. . would she have let him get away with just that?

He inwardly scoffed. A fool’s hope. When it came to that particular “affection,” she, like her like-minded sisters, would insist on her full due. If he gave her any definite hint that he felt anything of that nature for her, she wouldn’t rest until she had him on his knees swearing undying devotion. And offering her his heart on a platter.

Something he could never do.

The one thing he would never trust any woman enough to do again.

Heather reached the manor’s side door and disappeared inside.

He thought, consulting the morass of ill-used feelings churning inside, then, jaw setting, stalked off along a different path — the one that led to the stables.

Standing a few feet back from the window in the turret room below the bedchamber she and Richard shared, Catriona, arms crossed, watched Breckenridge stride toward the stables. “Well, that looks promising.”

“Indeed.” Beside her, Algaria nodded. “I wasn’t sure before, but now. .”

“I wasn’t sure either.” Catriona turned to the room. “Not that she was the right one for him, or that he was the one for her, but after that performance, there can be no doubt.”

She used the chamber as a sitting room, and Algaria often brought Lucilla and Marcus there for their less formal lessons. The elder twins were seated cross-legged on the floor, sorting various leaves, learning the plants their mother and the Vale folk used for various ills, both in themselves and their animals.

“Be that as it may”—Algaria turned to watch the twins—“I sensed from the first that he’s. . very contained.”

Catriona nodded. “That’s why I was most unsure about him — he appears so outwardly open, so charmingly at ease, yet inside there are walls. Thick, impenetrable walls.”

Algaria nodded. “If he’s ever to have her, he’ll need to take those walls down himself.”

“Or at least open a door and let her in.” After a moment, Catriona went on, “All we can do is have faith — and watch to see what happens next.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ten hours later, Heather lay in the four-poster bed in the room she usually occupied at the manor. Fingering the chain about her neck, she stared up at the canopy above.

Most of the manor’s occupants would by now be snoring. If she intended to join Breckenridge, then it would be safe to go to his room now.

Cloaked in comfortable darkness, she didn’t move, just lay staring unseeing upward.

Thinking, reviewing. Planning.

Scheming.

She had, at his request, declared her position — told him what she wanted from any man she would agree to call husband. She’d made the effort, plumbed her deepest feelings and bared her dreams. . and what had been his response?

Silence. Then he’d tried charming her.

When that hadn’t worked, he’d reverted to heavy-handed, domineering arguments.

She’d given him the opportunity to bare his deepest feelings — even a hint would have sufficed — but