Seven Wicked Nights (Turner #1.5)

She blinked several times, but the heat coursing through her stayed. “Of course he is.”


“He’s not.” He dipped his head and for a breathless moment, she thought he meant to kiss her. She could no more deny the passion between them than she could deny herself air. He moved his finger again. “You’re cold.”

She drew her head back, and his finger slipped away. “Your hands are warm.”

“You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“Nothing will shake your conviction that he’s more than he is?”

“He’s what I need him to be.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. It’s a mistake. Don’t marry just to get away. I, of all people, know what a mistake that is.”

She swallowed hard. “I can’t stay here. I can’t.”

“Not even if it’s good sense? You’re running from a bad situation into a worse one, and it’s one you can’t take back when the hard light of reason proves your mistake.” He kept his voice low. “I promise you, there’s nothing worse than to marry where there is no love.”

“She’s ruined Doyle’s Grange for me. Ruined it.”

“He’s a belly on him and only half a head of hair. No doubt he’s losing his hearing.” He checked himself and after a glance at the house, lowered his voice. “Do you want to spend the best years of your life shouting at a fat old man who probably never read a novel in his life? And if he did, he’d not think it grand.”

While they stood here, the clouds had gotten thicker and darker and the air colder. She grasped his hand and pressed it. “He likes me, with my red hair and despite all my faults.”

“Is he marrying a wife or a nurse for his mother?”

“That’s uncalled for.”

“It’s entirely called for.”

She recognized that mulish look. “You’ve never had to do without something you want, let alone something you need.”

His eyes widened. “The hell I haven’t.”

“You? With ten thousand a month and houses all over England? He is a decent man. We understand one another.”

“Don’t attempt to tell me you love that man. I know what you look like when you’re in love.”

“It won’t be the way you and I were.” Her heart cracked open, irreparably broken, and there was just no way to repair the damage she’d done. “Not that kind of love, but then Jeremy and I are not young and foolish or in love for the first time. I dare say we’ll get on quite well. I know we shall.” She walked away from him. The chickens had been let out and a few of the hens scattered as she and Crispin approached the back gate. “Besides,” she said when he was next to her again. “He’s no objection to me, not even at my advanced age.”

His face emptied of emotion. “Marry me instead.”

“You don’t want that.”

She knew from experience that Crispin, when angry, turned quiet. His gaze was quite capable of freezing one to death with a glance. No doubt he’d learned that from his father. He went silent long enough to tie her stomach in knots. She waited him out and won that contest, for he spoke in a low, tight, voice. “Have you more to say about how I think or feel?”

“You’ll always resent me for what happened, for the choice I made. You were steadfast, and I was not.”

“I don’t blame you. Not for what my father did to you. To us.”

“You haven’t forgiven me.”

“You willfully misunderstand.” He touched her arm, and she flinched. “It’s not I who hasn’t forgiven. It’s you.”

Her mouth gaped. “I do not blame you. Not for your father, that’s hardly your fault, and not for anything else.”

“You can’t forgive yourself.”

She drew in a stuttering breath. “What sort of person would I be if I did?”

“The woman I used to love.”

“I’m not that woman. Don’t you see? There’s no repairing what happened. I’m broken. Nothing will ever fix that.”





Chapter Twelve





The following day

NORTHWORD LEANED FORWARD on the chair he’d brought next to Magnus’s and breathed in the scent of the beer that filled his mug. They were in Magnus’s office, sitting on chairs drawn up to the fireplace. It was just after one, and the remains of their luncheon were on the table by the door. That arse-kissing toady Jeremy Stewart had driven his mother, Eleanor, and Portia to Aubry Sock for tea. They weren’t expected back for another three hours at least. That left him and Magnus with the house to themselves. They were taking full advantage.