took a deep breath. “Is it true she looked like me?”
His dark eyebrows lowered. “Victoria said that?”
“Yes.”
“She was guessing.” His lips creased in a humorless smile. “She never met Lena. But it happens she’s wrong. You look nothing alike.”
I exhaled. Then I shivered. Lena. So that was the other woman’s name. “What made you love her so much?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why do you keep pushing?”
“Because I...”
I froze.
Because I wanted to know what special quality this woman had had, that had made Edward love her so much, when he couldn’t even love me a little. Had she been pretty? Had she been wise? Was it the sound of her voice or the scent of her perfume?
I wanted to know because at my deepest core, I yearned for him to love me the same way. I yearned for him to want to be with me. To stay with me. Raise a child with me.
I was in love with him, and wanted him to love me back.
My infatuation with Jason had been nothing, a schoolgirl crush, compared to what I felt for Edward, the man I’d healed, the man I’d shared a home with, the man who’d teased me and encouraged me and demanded I follow my dreams. The man who’d taken my virginity and shown me what physical love could be. The man whose child I now carried deep inside me.
I was in love with Edward.
Desperately.
Stupidly.
“Diana?”
I took a deep breath. “I was just curious, that’s all.” I gave him a weak smile. “After hearing Victoria talk about her. What made Lena so different?”
“Different?” Moonlight from the window caught the edge of his face, leaving his eyes in shadow. “Lena wasn’t different. She was ordinary, really. But she acted helpless, as if I were the only one who could save her. She made me think...I could be her hero.” His cruel, sensual lips twisted up at the edges. “Me. Isn’t that hilarious? But I almost believed it. I took care of her for months, asking nothing in return. Until she suddenly left me for the Spanish bastard who’d abandoned and betrayed her.”
“That’s it? She acted helpless?” I could be helpless, I thought wildly. I felt helpless right now, looking at him, fearing there was nothing I could do to make him love me or want our baby.
He shrugged. “I thought I deserved her. That I’d earned her.”
I blinked. “You can’t earn someone’s love. That’s not how it works.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve heard the words I love you from so many women...”
“You have?” I whispered. No one had ever spoken those words to me, except for my family.
“...but words are meaningless. Cheap. Women have said it after they’ve only known me a few hours—in bed. They barely knew me at all. They were just trying to trap me, to make me do something I didn’t want to do. To own me.”
“You mean, make you commit?”
“Exactly.” He gave me a crooked grin, then looked away. “But I always imagined love to be an action, not a word. If I loved someone, I wouldn’t say it, I’d show it. I’d take care of her, putting her needs ahead of my own. I’d put my whole soul into making her happy....” He cut himself off with a harsh laugh, clawing back his hair. “But what the hell do I know? I’ve never found love like that. So I gave up on it. And I’ve been happier ever since.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said softly, looking at the stark emotion in his eyes. “I’m sorry that woman hurt you, but you can’t live the rest of your life closed off from love.”
“You’re wrong,” he said flatly.
Clutching my hands into fists at my sides, I whispered, “Do you still love her?”
He choked out a laugh. “Love her? No. It all seems a million years ago. I was a different person then. I’m leaving them to it. The Duke and Duchess of Alzacar are happy together, with their fat, happy baby, happily married in their big castle in happy, happy Spain. I wish them every happiness.”
His voice had an edge to it. A darkness. I searched his handsome face. “You’re sorry you tried to kidnap her...Aren’t you?”
“I’m sorry I ever let myself care in the first place,” he said coldly. “I should have known better than to think I could be any woman’s hero. It’s not in my nature. Now...I know who I am. Selfish to the core. And glad. My life is completely within my control.”
Looking up at him, my glass heart broke into a thousand shards, each of them sharp as ice. “So you’ll never have a wife—no child—no family of any kind?”
“I told you from the beginning,” he said harshly. “Those are things I do not want. Not now. Not ever.” With a deep breath, he took a step toward me. Gently, he cupped my cheek with his hand. “But I do want this. You. We can enjoy each other. For as long as the pleasure lasts.”
His palm was warm and rough against my cheek, and I suddenly felt like crying. “It could be more. You have to know—”
He was already shaking his head grimly. “Don’t do this to me, Diana. Let this be enough. Don’t ask for more than I can give. Please. I’m not ready to let you go. Not yet—”
Pulling me tight against his hard-muscled body, he kissed me passionately in the shadowy stairwell of the Kensington townhouse.
I knew I should stop him, to force him to listen, to tell him the two things that were causing such anguish—joy, terror, desperate hope—in my heart.
I loved him.
I was pregnant with his baby.
But I was scared the moment I told him, our relationship would end. He’d see me and the child I carried both as unwanted entanglements. Because he’d already made up his mind about what he wanted. And what he didn’t want.
He wasn’t going to change.
Holding him tightly, I returned his kiss. Tears streaming unchecked down my cheeks, adding salt to the taste. His lips gentled as he pressed me back against the wall of the stairwell. My head fell back as he kissed down my throat. I gasped, trembling, caught between desire and the agony of a breaking heart. How could I realize I loved him, only to lose him the same night? Blood rushed in my ears like a rhythmic buzz.
Edward pulled away with a curse, and I realized the buzz was actually his phone ringing. But who would call him so late? A business emergency? A secretary?
A mistress?
No. Surely not. But we’d never promised fidelity. He’d promised only pleasure.
“It’s not me,”
