"Please, Mariah." He stretched out his hand to her. "Don't be like this."
"Like what?" she asked, backing just out of his reach.
"So bitter."
"How do you expect me to react after what you did?" She bit her lip to stop the quiver. "Do you think I am made of stone?"
"No," he replied, reaching out to brush the backs of his fingers down her cheek. "Stone is cold and unmoving. You are all that is warm and wonderful. Please," he glanced at the oarsmen, "let us go where we can speak privately."
His warm and gentle touch sent a familiar frisson to a place low in her belly. She despised her rebellious body that responded so readily to him. He pressed a hand to her lower back. She didn't resist as he gently propelled her toward the privacy of the cabin.
"Why?" she demanded the moment he'd closed the door. "I kept my promise. I eagerly anticipated every letter and marked off each day that passed, thinking it one less that kept us apart."
"As did I," he said. "Yet as the year came closer to an end, I knew that I was no closer to achieving my desire. I was utterly despondent and thoroughly foxed when I wrote that letter to you."
"You were?" Was it true? Had he really written it out of despondency?
"Yes, Mariah. I was wallowing in the pit of despair."
"How do you think I felt upon receiving it?" she asked.
"I didn't think about that. When I wrote you, I saw no way forward. I couldn't conceive of how we could be together. I meant only to free you, not to hurt you."
"But you did!" she cried. "And the worst part was that you gave me no explanation." She averted her gaze and tried to swallow against the choking sensation in her throat. "I could only think that you had fallen in love with another."
"Is that what you really thought?"
"Yes."
"My dearest heart," he murmured while whispering distracting kisses over her face. "Have I not told you that I have never loved anyone but you?"
She pulled back from him with a frown. "How do you expect me to believe that when you did what you did? If you truly loved me as you claim, why did you insist on going away in the first place? Why did you make me wait?"
"Because I was a completely self-absorbed jackass. I was so obsessed with my own pride that it never even occurred to me what misery you might experience from another man—one who might ruin you with gambling or humiliate you with his philandering. Once that epiphany came upon me, I swore that I would do whatever I must to make you mine."
"If that is so, how could you offer marriage to me on behalf of another? You are making no sense!"
"I am making perfect sense," he replied evenly. "You know that I am in Rochford's employ and thus must do his bidding. I made the offer only because honor obligated me to do so. I believed you would refuse, and that refusal would allow me to pay suit for him to another. Having fulfilled my obligation to him, I would then be free to pay my own suit to you." He shook his head ruefully. "It was a calculated risk that tragically backfired on me."
"What would you have done had I accepted?" she asked.
"I never thought that you would, but had you accepted, I could never have given you up to him. If that means swallowing my damnable pride, so be it. Listen to me please, Mariah. I love you and only you. My only desire, if you would have me, would be for us to make a real life together."
Fear and doubt refused to let her yield to him. "You have already betrayed my trust once, Nicolas. How can you expect me to believe you would be different from any other man?"
"All I have to offer you is what stands before you—my body, my heart, and my soul. They are yours, my love. I lay them at your feet. And I swear under all that is holy that I will never hurt you again. I will uphold my vows to love and cherish and protect you to my dying breath."
***
Having pled his case, Nick waited several agonizingly silent seconds as hope and hesitation warred in her sea-colored eyes. He forced his gaze from hers to focus on her lips instead, as if by sheer force of will he could draw the answer from her. He longed to kiss her lips, to reacquaint himself with their softness, shape, and texture. Now that they were alone, he was almost desperate to take her into his arms.
"Sweet words are easily spoken," she replied bitterly. "How can I know you really mean what you say?"
"You asked me once in a moonlit garden how you would ever know for certain that a man really cared for you. The answer hasn't changed, Mariah. This is how."
He claimed her mouth slowly and thoroughly, as if he was finally taking possession of what was always his to begin with. He'd already poured out his heart with his words, yet she remained unconvinced. Now his body must speak for his soul.