“What if this theft business isn’t resolved? If I’m asked to explain myself, I’m stuck. My choices are between ‘suspected thief’ and ‘known fornicator.’ No matter what, I’m never going to be ‘Perfect Miss Highwood’ again. And it may seem strange, but I’m happy about that. I’m ready to just be me.” She looked him in the eye. “So there’s the question, I suppose. Do you love me? Or just some precious, perfect idea of me?”
His fingers tamed a stray lock of her hair. “Of course I love you. Perfect or not, I think the world of you, Diana. That’s why I can’t bear for our friends and neighbors to think something less.” He swept a gesture down her soiled frock. “I don’t want them believing you’re this kind of girl.”
She flung her arms wide. “Apparently, I am this kind of girl. And you didn’t seem to mind ten minutes ago.”
“That’s different. You know it’s different. There’s what happens between the two of us, and then there’s parading it for public view. We know how we feel, but to anyone else . . .” He cringed at his dark handprint sprawled lewdly over her breast. “You look like a lightskirt who’s entertained a gang of colliers.”
She recoiled, stung. “And yet I didn’t feel truly dirty until just this moment.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know exactly what you mean. You want a lightskirt in your bed at night, and by day you want a perfect virgin.” She pressed a hand to her heart. “But I need a man who knows me. Who wants me. And who isn’t afraid or ashamed for the world to see it.”
“So now I’m ashamed?” His gesture was impatient. “Diana, our night together wouldn’t be such a scandal if anyone—your friends, family, neighbors—suspected that you care for me. But they haven’t seen the slightest evidence of that. Have they?”
The edge of accusation in his voice cut her deeply. He was right, she supposed. If she had been more forthright about her feelings for Aaron, the truth of last night wouldn’t come as such a surprise. For that matter, she wouldn’t have needed to lie about a headache in the first place.
“I . . . I’m not a woman who bares her feelings easily.” Out of habit, she reached for the vial hanging about her neck. It wasn’t there. Her fingers closed on air, and she felt bereft with nothing to cling to. “I’ve always been reserved.”
“Reserved,” he echoed. “Until this past week, you barely acknowledged me when we crossed paths in the lane. I’ve never taken offense. But now you call me ashamed? You know that’s not fair.”
All Diana knew was that she had to leave.
With shaking fingers, she put her clothing to rights as best she could and headed for the door. If he would abandon her to face false accusations of thievery before admitting to his own true actions, there seemed nothing more to discuss. She was on her own.
“Don’t go away angry,” he said, his tone gentler than before. “We’ll reside in this village for the rest of our lives, God willing. In a week, any absurd accusations of theft will be forgotten. But if you tell everyone about last night, the gossip will linger for years. I just want to be careful, that’s all.”
“I’ll be careful. I have a great deal of practice being careful. Don’t worry, Aaron.” She whirled her cloak about her shoulders and secured it tight in front. “I’ll make it home with these stains unseen. No one needs to know about us. Ever.”
She slammed the door, and Aaron’s ribs rattled with the force of the crash.
Damn. He hadn’t handled that well.
With two sisters in his care, Aaron had been on the receiving end of some feminine fury in his life. But Diana’s was a first-rate exit. One that begged, Chase after me. Grovel and plead and promise to give me anything I ask, everything I need.
He had every intention of doing just that.
Curse it, he never should have made that remark about lightskirts. He’d sounded disgusted by her, when in reality he was only disgusted with himself.
This entire situation was his fault. He never should have allowed her to stay last night. If another man had treated Diana—or any woman, for that matter—this way, Aaron would have raised hell. And the entire village knew it. He was the resident big brother. He protected the female contingent of Spindle Cove. But he’d failed to look out for the woman he loved.
He would go to her. Just as soon as he could manage it. First he needed to bathe, change, shave. He’d put on his best coat, gather up a spring flower or two. He supposed he hadn’t the time to learn any poetry—but he would bring the ring.
This was their first proper argument, and Aaron didn’t dare skimp on the reconciliation. When he did chase after her to fall at her feet and make promises . . . there could be no half measures.
He had to do this with his whole heart—even if it meant risking all.
CHAPTER 13
By the time Diana arrived back in the village center, her hem and slippers were dredged in mud, and the rain had made a proper mop of her hair. With her cloak wrapped tight about her torso, no one could have guessed at the smudges on her frock beneath.
Her swollen eyes and red, sniffling nose could easily be explained away—just products of the damp weather.