The realization tore through her so unexpectedly that it ripped her breath away.
God help her, she wanted a life with Robert Carlisle, the most impossible man in the world for her. She shook at all that implied, trembling so violently that goose bumps dotted her skin, and in her shock, she could do nothing more than stare at him, wide-eyed and lips parted, and somehow remember to breathe.
All she’d wanted her entire life was to work for Winslow Shipping. Yet somehow during the past few weeks that dream had changed, and now she wanted more than simply a role within the company. She wanted the company and Robert, wanted both a home with him and a place at her father’s side. Dear heavens, she wanted it all.
Instead of filling her with happiness, that thought made tears sting at her eyes and nose, and her throat tightened with the threat of sobs. She pressed her clenched fist hard against her chest to try to ease the pain. But every breath burned in her lungs, every beat of her heart was excruciating—
Because that life would never be hers. Because Robert didn’t want her.
He wanted Winslow Shipping.
Misunderstanding her silence as loyalty to Whitby, he demanded quietly, “Does he challenge you intellectually or make you feel safe when you’re with him? Does he make you laugh with abandon and smile until your face aches?”
“None of that matters,” she lied, blinking rapidly, her voice a hoarse rasp. All this time she’d been fighting against him, when he now stood in front of her as the only man she wanted for her husband. The only man capable of bringing her all the joys and pleasures he’d listed.
“More than you realize.” He stepped closer and made her yearn for what she could never have—his affections. “Do you find yourself wanting to run to him to share something amusing? Is he the man you think of when you’re upset and need to be comforted?”
You! I think of you. But if he discovered how she truly felt, she would never live down the humiliation. So she forced out, “Yes!”
“You’re lying.” Another step closer, this one so close that she could feel the heat of him radiating down her front, and she longed to take a single step forward to place herself into his arms. “I know for certain that he doesn’t make you crave his touch.” His voice grew husky as he lowered his mouth to her ear, his warm breath tickling over her skin so deliciously that she shivered. “That it’s not him you dream of at night making you cry out in passion.”
“None of that matters.” Her hands clenched into fists at her side to keep herself from reaching for him. “Whitby is a kind and generous man. Unlike you,” she accused unfairly, yet wanting desperately to make him angry. When they were furious at each other, she didn’t long to be in his embrace, didn’t crave his mouth and hands on her, didn’t yearn to hear words of love fall from his lips. “You think you have a right to possess anything you want.”
His eyes flared with a predacious heat that made her shudder “Yes.” He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and tugging her hard against him. His head lowered so close to hers that she felt each word caress over her lips when he murmured, “And what I want is you.”
His mouth captured hers, hot and hungry, once again making her head spin. He kissed her breath away, and she trembled when his hands reached up to cup her face between his palms to hold her mouth still beneath the intensity of his kiss. With her breasts pressed against the hard planes of his chest, she could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, each beat pulsing into her until she couldn’t tell if the pounding heartbeat was hers or his.
She tore her mouth away and panted for breath, desperately needing air to clear away the swirling confusion spinning through her. Her hands grasped his wrists to keep him from reaching for her again, because this time she didn’t think she’d have the strength to stop him.
“But you also want the partnership, and you cannot have both,” she countered in a whisper filled with pain as the impossible truth sliced brutally into her. “Which do you want more, Robert?” Her voice was little more than a breathless whisper as she laid out the choice for him, the one she feared she would lose—“Winslow Shipping or me?”
He stared down at her, his face unreadable in the shadows.
But that moment’s indecision ripped through her soul like a dagger of ice. Shaking her head, with tears blurring her eyes no matter how fiercely she blinked them away, she pushed against him to slip out of his arms—
“Mariah?” A feminine voice broke the silence of the garden. “Where are you?”
She startled with a surprised gasp. Then she moved away from Robert to put several feet between them. But there wasn’t room in all of London to hide what they’d been doing if anyone came upon them.
“Robert?” The woman called out. Then faint irritation darkened her voice, “For goodness’ sake! One of you has to be out here. I’ve searched everywhere else.”
Oh God…the duchess. Mortification swept through her so strongly that she thought she might be ill. With all of her shaking, Mariah frantically shed Robert’s jacket and shoved it at him. “Go,” she urged in a fierce whisper. “Go to her.”
He shook his head and reached for her. “Mariah—”
“Just go!” she choked out. “We can’t let her find us like this. You’ll lose the partnership, and I’ll—” I’ll lose everything. Her cheeks heated with humiliation. And panic. If the duchess stumbled upon them like this, they’d be forced to marry; she’d cost him the partnership, and he’d resent her for it. She couldn’t bear that! “Tell her that I’m inside in the retiring room, or off with Evie. Tell her anything.” She shoved him away. “Please, Robert, go!”
As his mother called out again, this time from much closer, he grudgingly capitulated with a curse. He ducked beneath the branches and paused only a moment to cast her a parting glance.
“This isn’t over,” he warned, then walked away into the garden, toward the duchess.
Sucking in a ragged breath, Mariah collapsed against the tree trunk and hung her head in her hands. All of her shook as the emotions raged inside her, as humiliation and desire and loss all threatened to overwhelm her.
Not over. Exactly what worried her.
When her breathing had calmed and her heart no longer pounded so hard that each beat sent a jolt of pain echoing through her chest, she drew her spine up straight and moved out from beneath the tree. The shadow-filled garden was once again silent and empty. For a moment, she stared at the house, lit like a glowing beacon in the night.
Then she turned away and slipped into the darkness.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
An hour later, Robert opened the door of the shipping office and met Mariah’s gaze in the dim light from the stove’s coals. He’d spent the last hour crossing London in the dark of night—and the last half of it beneath a flurry of falling snow—yet the sight of her instantly warmed away the cold.
“You’ve found me,” she murmured, her voice as soft as the shadows.
“I told you.” He stepped inside and closed the door. “I know you better than you think.”
When she didn’t return from the garden, he’d searched for her, only to find her missing from the ball. He knew she hadn’t gone home. That she’d be here instead, seeking comfort in the place she loved most in the world.