He closed his eyes at the words, at the way they rocketed through him, all honesty and promise. And perfection.
“No you don’t,” he said again, even as a part of him longed to pull her into his arms and reciprocate again and again, over and over, forever. He’d live here, under this hazard table, if he could guarantee she would live here with him.
But look at what he’d done to her.
She was here. In a gaming hell—a lower hell, designed for people and things far more base than anything she’d ever dreamed. He hated that she was here, only slightly less than he hated himself for being the reason she was here. She’d run the tables on one of the longest-standing gaming hells in the city, as though she were born a cheat and a swindler.
And he loved her more for it.
But he’d turned her into this, and she would come to hate it. Hate him for it. And one day she’d realize it, and he would be too far gone in love with her to suffer it. “This is the most dishonest thing you’ve ever done,” he said. “Orchestrating a run on a casino; stealing from a man; causing a riot, for God’s sake. You once told me that you did not approve of dishonesty . . . Look at what I’ve turned you into. Look at how I’ve ruined you.”
“You’ve done nothing of the sort. You’ve proven to me that black and white are not the only two options. You’ve made me realize that there is more than honest and dishonest, than lies and truth. What he’s done . . . stealing your life, blackmailing you, forcing you into a future you do not want . . . all that is dishonest. What is honest is that I love you. And that I will do anything to keep you from being forced into a life you will hate. I would do it again and again and again without an ounce of regret. Without a moment of it.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Stop telling me what I mean!” she said, strong as steel, her hands on his chest. “Stop telling me what is best for me. What will make me happy . . . I know what will make me happy—you. And you come with this life . . . this fascinating, magnificent life. And it will make me happy, Jasper. It will make me happy because it is yours.”
“Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have said that. You wouldn’t have dreamed of running the tables of a casino. Of falsifying wins. Of ruining a man.”
“Two weeks ago I was a different woman,” she said. “So simple!”
He’d never once thought her simple.
“And you were a different man,” she added.
Truth. She’d made him infinitely better. But he remained infinitely worse than what she deserved. She deserved better than him. So much better.
“No,” he lied, wishing he could be away from her. Wishing he were not pressed against her, desperate for her. “I am the same, Pippa. I haven’t changed.”
Her eyes went wide at the words—at the blow in them—and before he could apologize, he saw the change in them. The way she believed him. His lie. The biggest he’d ever told.
After a long moment, she spoke, the words catching in her throat. “Stealing your life. Forcing you into a future you do not want, that’s what I’ve done, isn’t it? That’s what I have done to you. What I would be doing if I forced you to marry me? I’m no worse than Knight.”
He wanted to tell her the truth—that she’d not stolen his life, but made it infinitely better. That she hadn’t forced him into anything except falling for her, a beautiful, brilliant lady. But he knew better. Knew that she deserved someone with more to offer than a gaming hell and a tarnished title. She deserved someone who was right and honorable and who would give her everything she ever wanted. Everything she would ever need.
Everything but love.
No one would ever love her the way he loved her. No one would ever celebrate her the way he celebrated her. No one would ever honor her the way he honored her.
He honored her.
And because of that, he did what he knew was right, instead of the thing he wanted desperately to do.
Instead of grabbing her to him, tossing her over his shoulder, and marching away with her forever . . . he gave her back the life she deserved.
“That’s what you’ve done,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue. “I told you once that marriage was not for me. That love was not for me. I don’t want it.”
Her face fell, and he hated himself for hurting her even as he reminded himself that she was his great work. That this would save her. That this would give her the life she deserved.
It would be the one thing he could be proud of.
Even if it hurt like hell.
“Castleton will marry you tomorrow,” he said, perhaps to her . . . perhaps to himself. “He will protect you.” His gaze flickered to the earl, trapped beneath a nearby table with Maggie, arms wrapped around her head. “He protected you tonight, did he not?”