over her pale face.
“Don’t blame yourself,” he said frowning. “There were reasons.”
“Of course,” she said. “There always are. Being small and defenseless, St. Michel has always needed alliances with foreign powers. Believe me, I’ve heard it over and over from my father and grandmother.”
“But it’s wrong to use humans as pawns in these games,” he said.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she refilled his cup. “And the beautiful Gabrielle?” she asked. “What became of her? Did she marry her fiancé?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll have to do some research and get back to you on that. If Grandfather were here…”
“You miss him,” she said simply, her expression softening.
Yes, he missed the old man in many ways. Someone he could go to with his troubles. Someone who’d listen with a sympathetic ear. Someone who cared about him when no one else seemed to.
“Yes. He was the one person…” He stopped abruptly. Why go into family matters? She’d presumably had her fill of the dysfunctional Rodin family while living in Rhineland with his brother. Talking about the distant past was safer and allowed him to keep the dialog going, to keep the connection between them. Maybe it happened a long time ago, maybe it was history repeating itself. Whatever it was, he knew he’d do anything to forge a bond between Lise and himself. A bond that had nothing to do with his brother.
“I mustn’t keep you any longer, Charles,” she said, glancing at the door. It was plain she was dismissing him before he’d said what he’d come to say.
He’d hoped to establish a mood and set up the appropriate atmosphere. He’d planned to lead up to it gradually, but he no longer had time. It was clear it had to be now. He stood and looked down at her. The silence in the room was deafening. It was now or never. He took a deep breath.
“I came today to offer you my hand in marriage,” he said.
Chapter Two
There, it was out.
Lise turned pale. She braced herself with her hands on the seat cushion of her chair. Her mouth fell open in surprise. Good thing she was sitting down, because he was afraid she was going to faint. He went down on his knees next to her and held out his hand, but she ignored the gesture and leaned back against the cushions. Her eyelids fluttered.
He cursed himself for being so blunt. He’d obviously said it all wrong. How did he know? He’d never proposed to anyone before. Never wanted to settle down with any woman he’d ever met. Only one. And she was taken. Now she was free.
His view of marriage had always been shaped by that of his parents. He wanted no part of any institution that was designed to bring together suitable mates to ensure political stability. His parents were polite to each other, but he’d never witnessed much warmth or affection between them. But this was a different situation. There was no doubt in his mind this was his obligation, his duty. If it were only that, he could explain it to her rationally. But there was nothing rational about the way he felt about her. Nothing rational about the way the desire surged through his veins.
“I’ve taken you by surprise,” he said, getting to his feet and clasping his hands together behind his back. He couldn’t tell her he loved her or that he desired her, that would only frighten her and she surely wouldn’t believe him. He had to present it from another angle. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but surely you see the logic of it. How advantageous it would be.”
“Oh yes,” she said, leaning forward, the color rising in her face. “Because I married for political advantage the last time, it seems obvious to you I should do so again. But I’m not the same woman I was. I’m on my own now. My father is dead, God rest his soul, and from now on, I make my own decisions. I have learned many painful lessons in these past eight months. One is this: I will never marry again. Not for any reason.” Her blue eyes shot sparks of determination. He stared fascinated. This was not what he expected. An inner strength forged by what had happened to her.
“My brother has done this to you,” Charles said. His brother had turned a sweet young girl into a stubborn young woman. He’d never forgive him for destroying her innocence. It was up to him to make it up to her. To show her all men were not like his brother.
“I agreed to the match so I bear some responsibility,” she said. “Yes, I did it to please my father, but I could have resisted. I didn’t. He was very strong-willed.”
“It seems to run in the family,” he said. He had to admit he admired her willpower, in spite of the fact that she was using it against him.
“Perhaps,” she said with a rueful half smile.
“If you won’t think of yourself, think of the child. I want to give it a home, a father.”
Her smile faded. “You want to be the father of my child,” she said flatly, in obvious disbelief.
“Yes.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from resting on the striped smock that covered her stomach, imagining the life underneath, imagining the swell of her belly, the transformation that maternity would make on her hips and her breasts. A jolt of desire hit him along with a fistful of doubts. What kind of a father would he be, he who’d grown up with parents who were more concerned with their image than their children? What was his real motive here, was it to take his brother’s bride and make her his or to take care of her because his brother didn’t? Or did it have something to do with the irrational desire to take her away and make love to her so passionately she’d forget anyone else had ever touched her?
“Because you feel sorry for me,” she said.
“Because I feel responsible for you,” he said. Say it. Tell her. Because I desire you. Because you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. Because I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. I appreciate the thought, but the answer is no.”
“Won’t you think it over?” he asked.
“I don’t need to think it over,” she said. “I have more important things to think about.”
Brave words. She was a brave woman. And a stubborn one. He knew he couldn’t push her any further. If she decided to marry him, she would have to come to that decision on her own. He had to admit, her summary refusal hurt him more than he’d thought it would. If his brother had plunged a knife in his chest, Lise had just twisted it with her refusal. He wasn’t sure what he’d pictured, perhaps tears of gratitude, perhaps joy and happiness at being rescued, but not this.
“Very well,” he said brusquely. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He turned to go.
“Charles, wait.” She stepped forward and put her hand on his arm as he reached for the door. “Don’t think I’m not grateful to you. I appreciate your concern for my welfare. My answer has nothing to do with you personally. It would be the same no matter who you were. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’ve been through a very bad period and I need time to recover.”
He turned to face her. A surge of hope sprang from her words. Of course, she needed time to recover. He’d spent a lifetime
