Chance hurt, possibly dying? Why did that upset her so? Why did half of her want to pummel him for being so reckless, while the other half of her wanted only to hold him?
“I should go in now,” she said, backing up a step, but Chance put a hand on her arm.
“Not yet. I want to speak with you about what happened between us last night, Julia,” he said, his voice low, his deeply green eyes gone dark. “Please.”
“Why? What is there to say? You bedded a woman, then went riding out on the Marsh to do God knows what. And I…I must be insane.”
He’d hurt her. God, he’d hurt her. Damn him for the bastard he was. “I’m sorry, Julia.”
His apology brought her up short, and made her instantly furious with him. She’d been nervous? Why on earth had she been nervous? “Sorry? You’re sorry? Is that so, Mr. Chance Becket? Well, I’m not sorry. Now what do you have to say to that, Mr. Chance Becket?”
Chance was suddenly so off balance he was surprised he still stood upright. “You cried.”
“I also laughed. I also allowed what happened. Please don’t tell me you thought you’d…you’d—”
“Taken unfair advantage of you,” Chance said quickly, not really wanting to hear the word ravished— or worse—coming from Julia’s mouth.
She lifted her chin. “Because you did no such thing. I am perfectly well aware of what I did.”
But not why she did it. Chance mentally flinched as his conscience pushed out from under the rock he’d placed over it and shouted accusingly in his brain. Not that it had ended that way for him. But it had begun that way, and he should burn in Hades for that.
“So,” he said, measuring his words, “you and I both knew what we were doing last night and neither of us is sorry, although I could argue that I knew much more than you.”
Julia turned her back on him. “There’s no need to be crass.”
“No, there’s not. But there is another need, Julia. Marry me.”
Julia’s eyes went so wide she momentarily feared they’d pop out of her head and drop to the stone terrace, and wouldn’t that be embarrassing! Then she swallowed painfully and turned to face him once more. “I’d really rather not do that, thank you for asking.”
Chance stabbed his fingers through his hair. “Damn it, Julia, it’s not as if we have a choice.”
“How very…flattering,” Julia said, looking up at him, her palms itching either to slap him or to run her fingers through his windswept hair. And slapping him was beginning to win out. “I still must decline the offer.”
“Julia, think, please. I brought you here. I’ve gotten you involved in something very dangerous. I’ve allowed my family to believe that we’re betrothed. All of this is damning enough, but now I’ve completely compromised you and I’m not even sure I understand why I did what I did.”
“My, what flattery. But I believe I understand the why of what you did—what we did,” Julia said, twisting her fingers together in front of her. “Keep the silly spinster busy spinning daydreams and she won’t be any trouble, won’t keep poking her nose into matters that don’t concern her. I must say, reflecting back on the thing, the idea had some merit.”
Chance couldn’t hold back a short closed-mouth cough, as Julia had hit so close to the mark, then decided to go on the offensive. “That’s insulting to both of us, Julia. You’re an attractive woman, a highly attractive woman. I may be ashamed of myself, of my behavior, but I am not sorry I came to your chamber last night. I think we could have a good life together. You seem fond of Alice, for one thing, and you even appear to enjoy my family. I’ve thought about this, Julia. I’ve been thinking about you all morning.”
“Yes, after leaving me last night, already knowing you could be riding off willy-nilly to get yourself captured or killed.”
“So much for your opinion of my abilities, thank you. And as I recall the thing, you asked me not to speak. You asked me to leave.”
“Do you always listen to silly women?”
“Julia, we’re going round and round again.”
“And backward. Please don’t forget backward. I’d better enjoy arguing with you, Chance, if we could also sometimes move forward.”
“We are moving forward, damn it. Marriage is the only answer.”
Julia stood very still. She was a romantic fool, that was obvious to her now. And she was destined to end her days caring for someone else’s children or possibly raising cats. “Why did you marry Alice’s mother? Was it for love?”
It was time to be honest, Chance knew, more than time. “No, Julia. Ours was a marriage of mutual convenience. I’m ashamed now to say that, no, I did not love Beatrice, and she did not love me.”
“Mutual convenience, was it? Much like the marriage you speak of for the two of us, I would suppose. And with the unspoken knowledge that affection for each other has nothing to do with that union. No, don’t talk to me of marriage, Chance, for I am foolish enough to want more or nothing,” Julia said, believing she’d lingered long enough, revealed more than enough. Besides, she may have won this time…or lost, very badly. She turned and headed for one of the many sets of French doors that led into the mansion, willing herself not to break into a run.
This time Chance was wise enough not to try to keep her at his side. Better he should walk down to the shoreline, then keep walking into the water until it was over his head. When had he last been this stupid, behaved so badly? What was it about Julia Carruthers that tied his tongue in knots and had his brains scurry off on holiday—leaving him bereft of allies in this battle of wits and wills…and desires. God yes, desires. He believed he could still feel the smooth texture of Julia’s skin against his hands.
Did he really want to marry her?
He could think of worse fates….
At the sound of one pair of hands slowly clapping in a sort of mocking applause, he turned to see Courtland ascend the last few steps of the west staircase and begin walking across the terrace toward him.
“Bravo! Bravo, Chance. Oh, yes, I heard. I stayed out of sight on the steps, but then I listened to every word, just like Jacko would do, our friend who has never lost his love for putting his ear against keyholes. I can see you have our Miss Carruthers tightly wrapped around your little finger, brother, just as you said you would. You know, I should head up to London, get me a bit of that fine town bronze you wear so elegantly.”
“Shut up, Court,” Chance said, walking over to lean his forearms on the stone balustrade and look out to sea. “I’m already painfully aware I’ve bollixed things. Curse the woman. I don’t know if I should send her packing or take her back to bed. Someday perhaps someone will be able to explain women to us clumsy males.”
Courtland joined his brother, also leaning his forearms on the balustrade, the tension between them for the first time in a long time not in evidence. “If someone does, they can begin those explanations with Morgan, then go on to Fanny and Cassandra.”
“Not Eleanor?”
“Elly
