Taste of Desire (5 page)

“And – by yourself? You must have had a marvelous journey here, if you are so eager to attempt it again. Perhaps you will find an inn? Will you sit up this night and partake of a hardy draught of ale? I am sure you’ll find the nighttime company to your liking.”

“I had not thought –“

“Clearly you hadn’t.” He knew he sounded cruel, but this could only be a kindness. He would not think of what fate would await her if she left with no destination, no clear plan.

“But yes, I can sit up in the tavern tonight, waiting for the morning coach
. It cannot be too bad.”

“I can tell you have not had much exposure to London.”

“I did visit Rose last spring, and, of course, there was her first husband’s memorial.”

“I am sure that you spent many evenings on each of those occasions wandering alone.”

“Of course not. But that does not mean –”

“I am rather afraid it does
. You would not be safe. Do you wish yourself harm?”

She slumped for a moment, but then pulled herself up, refusing to be intimidated. The firelight lit her hair as she moved.

“You can send a footman with me. That would keep me safe.”

“So now you require funds and a footman, too?”

“Yes.” Her voice shook, but she refused to back down.

“That can be managed.
” He let her have her victory, then parried. “Where exactly will you go, once you are in this wondrous public coach?”

“I’ve already said, the country.”

“That covers rather a lot of territory. Do you have a more specific location, in case I should be in need of repayment?”

She paused and turned away, walking to the window
. She stared out into the darkness. “I’ve heard Cumberland is pretty. I’ll take a cottage there.”

“And how will you find this cottage?”

“Ah
.” She continued to face out into the night. The window overlooked the rear garden and there was not a sparkle of light to be seen. “I will hire someone to find a cottage. A manager.”

“So I am now supplying funds for a manager as well.”

“I will find someone reasonable,” her voice shook at the end.

“How
? In my experience a low price is often linked to dishonesty and shoddy practices.”

“I am a good judge of character.”

He stared at her belly. “And why do you not want to contact your child’s father?”

“That was different.
” Her hands clenched at her sides.

“If you say so.
”

“It was.”

“I haven’t argued.
” He stepped closer again, resisting the strange urge to take her in his arms and offer comfort. “But, I daresay I’d best supply an estate agent, as well, to find you a quiet spot. An estate agent, a footman, and funds to keep you. Is anything else required?

“No.
”

“I am sorry I didn’t hear you.
” He took another step forward. “Can you speak up?”

“No, I need nothing further.”

“I am so glad you know how to cook. So many women don’t.”

“I will be fine.”

“You do cook, then?” He continued to watch her. Her tightly drawn body was vibrating with the subtlety of a violin string. She could not resist much longer.

“I said I’ll be fine
,” her voice still held surprising determination.

“I’ll add a cook to the list, then
. Perhaps a maid, as well. You don’t seem to have a knack for hair.”

Marguerite’s hand rose, as he had known it would, and brushed over her wilted locks
. He could not mistake its trembling.

He moved to stand
close behind her. Only a breath of air separated them. “I do not believe I can give you the funds you desire. It seems a most foolish enterprise. My plan is much sounder. You must believe I have your best interests at heart.”

“Why should I?
” Her whole body was shaking visibly now.

Again, h
e experienced an urge to pull her against him, to cradle her with his strength. His body was responding to her closeness. All the cards were stacked against her.

“Would it be so hard to trust me?
” He whispered into her hair; a light citrus scent tickled his nose. “I seek only what’s best for you. What other reason could I have?”

“I do not know
,” her voice dropped. She sounded so defeated. “None of this makes sense. All I know is that marriage between us is nonsensical. I cannot do it.”

“Forgive me, but I am not sure you have much choice.”

“I beg your pardon.” The laughter was gone.

“You are more than welcome to leave.
” This was the moment. He refused to push her further. His own needs were not worth the pain that seeped from her. If she did not surrender he would find some other plan to meet his needs. He could, however, not send her off to face the world alone. “I will even supply the money for the hack if you are without ready funds. Perhaps you could even persuade me to part with coach fare back to your mother. That, at least, would seem logical.”

“But, I cannot.”

“You have not yet said why, but I will trust your reasons are not lacking.”

“Then, you’ll give me the money to go away, after all?
” She turned to face him. He could hear the edge of hope in her voice. “It will not be much. I can live simply. Just until after Rose’s confinement.”

This would be the last chance
. He should stop it now, but his voice answered even if as his mind turned away, “No.”

“But
–”

“Your choice is simple
. Your mother or me.”

Marguerite stared down at her hands, clenched tight in her lap. Any sensible girl would accept his offer, she knew. And she was sensible. So why couldn’t she say yes? It would be the prudent thing to do. Even if he changed his mind and withdrew his offer later, surely he would be duty bound to help her.

But, no, she couldn’t do it
. Bile rose in her throat. She had run away to avoid one proposal – if one could call her mother’s demand a proposal.

“Mr. Clark and I have decided the two of you will marry
. The first banns will be read Sunday.”

No, that did not sound like
a proposal.

Tristan’s offer had not been a proposal, either.

No. She couldn’t do it, no matter how desperate she was, no matter how he might attract her senses. Marriage to Tristan might have been her dream once, but never under these circumstances. Why would she flee one marriage just to tangle herself in another? She might be insane, but it was time she took some control of her life.

She wouldn’t be in this situation if . . . No, she was not going to think of that
. She had to remain focused on the present.

Maybe, if he’d been the Tristan she remembered from the garden, maybe then she could have faced the risk – but she would not tie herself to this stranger who looked through her and planned as if she had no say.

She would take the offered coach fare and leave. She would not have to return home. Marguerite stared back into Tristan’s quicksilver eyes. It would not be much money, but other women must have survived on less. She wrung her hands again. Her fingers were so cold.

But Marguerite knew that she was not other women
. She had never done anything but help Mama with the household. She was more naïve at twenty than most women were at fifteen. She doubted knowing how to devise a menu would provide much support.

She did have her needlework
. Being a seamstress could not be too hard.

“Are you going to give me an answer?
” Tristan’s commanding voice sliced through her thoughts.

“Yes
. I mean, no. I cannot marry you.” She wished her tone did not quiver so at the end.

“A pity.
” For a moment she thought he would give in, grant her the ability to leave. Then his face firmed, but his voice sounded off. “I was anticipating adding another cuckoo to the tree.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just mumbling my broken heart.” He sounded so sarcastic. Where was the man she had known on that one magical night?

“Stop it.
” She stood, hoping her legs would hold her. “Just give me my fare and I will trouble you no more.”

“I will have Winters fetch it.
”

Tristan stared at her hard
. Was that acceptance and perhaps relief she saw cross his face? Then he stepped back, and turned to the fire.

“Or p
erhaps I should send for Wulf and place this mess on his shoulders. What about the father of your child? We have not spoken much of him.” His hands dropped back to his sides and he stepped away.

“What of him?
” She should have been prepared for this question.

“Why do you not go to him?”

“God, no.” Tremors swept Marguerite at even the mention of . . . . No, it was unthinkable.

“Is he already wed?
” Tristan’s voice turned cold, losing all trace of that enveloping warmth.

“No, but it is not possible.
” Her mind froze when she even considered the possibility. Some things could not be discussed.

“Why?”

“It is really none of your concern.” His iciness had made it easier to turn the question aside. “Are you ever going to call for my hack and give me the fare?”

“You
asked for my help. That makes it my concern. If he doesn’t wish to wed you, just tell me who he is and I am sure I can persuade him to a different conclusion.” She had always considered him a diplomat not a fighter, but now the warrior shone through. Even in her misery, she could not mistake his magnificence.

“No
,” she forced the word out.

Tristan did not answer
. He tapped his fingers on the table, fingers she had felt against her skin.

“I brought this upon myself and I will take full responsibility
. Beyond that, I do not wish to talk of it,” she said. He tapped again. She remembered the whisper of his thumb against her wrist. Did she owe him anything? “I never meant to – he is not a husband I would ever choose.”

Tristan let his gaze drop to her belly
. Even though it was still flat, Marguerite felt as if it grew beneath his gaze. There was no jest in him now.

“I think the time for choice has passed
. I was wrong to offer you two choices. It is clear that the best resort is to return you to your child’s father. No man would refuse, and if he attempted to –”

“No.”

“Has he then refused to wed you?”

“No, he does not know.”

“You haven’t told him?”

“No, and I have no intention of doing so
. If you do not call Winters, I will walk away now.” She turned, feeling the need to flee. She did not know how much more she could take.

“Stop.”

“Why?” she whispered.

“That is my line.”

“I am too tired to play with words.” Soon she would cry. She felt the tears welling behind her eyes. It was unbearable that this mocking man should witness her defeat. “Coming here was a mistake. I just did not know where else to turn.”

She lifted her head and their glances met
. Something swirled and shifted in his eyes. He held out his hand.

“Please, come sit by the fire again, and I will attempt to discuss this more rationally
. You look pale and chilled.” His voice softened again, beckoning her, beguiling her. “I will call a maid to fetch you something to eat. Surely you don’t mean to head back without taking some refreshment? You look in need of sustenance. Stay. You have provided far more entertainment this night than I expect from any woman.”

Blast him
. She blinked rapidly. Could he not he remain serious for even a moment? She turned again to leave. She would not be an amusement, not when her whole life swung in the balance.

“I am sorry.
” He switched again, sounding so sincere. “I’ve spoilt things again. Come, Marguerite. Come and sit by the fire and I promise to behave myself. Come and tell me your secrets and perhaps you can persuade me to open my purse a little farther. I did promise you my help, and despite my foolishness, I am a man of honor. Come and persuade me.”

She wavered.

“I see the uncertainty in your eyes. Come, sit. What harm can there be in trying a honeyed tongue? You’ve come this far. Will you concede defeat so easily? Perhaps you may yet convince me to open my purse.”

Tristan watched her pause. She trailed her slender fingers over the door handle. He sensed her indecision. What further lure could he provide? “Don’t you want to eat before heading back to the coaching inn? I can’t imagine their fare can match mine? And watching a woman eat always puts me in a good mood, a generous mood.”