‘He wants to marry you, Nia.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not going to marry Andrew,’ she said slowly.
‘He hasn’t asked you yet?’
There was another long silence.
‘Actually, he has.’
Her words bumped into each other inside his head like fairground dodgems. He stared at her, shock muting the pain in his chest. ‘This evening?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘About a year ago.’
A year ago. So after she had found out that her family estate was in financial difficulties.
As if reading his mind, she gave him a small, tight smile. ‘My parents were pretty upset that I turned him down. When Andrew proposed I think they thought it would be the perfect solution to our problems.’
Farlan could all too easily imagine her father’s clipped, furious disbelief.
Glancing down at her pale face, he pushed a stray curl away from her face. ‘You say he’s a good man?’
She nodded. ‘He is.’
‘And yet you turned him down.’ It was a struggle to keep his voice even. ‘Why did you do that?’
Her eyelashes grazed her cheekbones as she looked down at his hand on her hip. ‘I’ve known Andrew for ever. And I love him. But only as a friend.’
‘Sometimes love can change.’
His spine tensed. Why had he said that? It made no sense. He didn’t want Nia to marry Andrew-bloody-Marquess-of-Airlie. He didn’t want her to marry anyone. The thought made him want to rage and smash things.
But he could feel the old familiar ache filling his chest—the swell of panic, the need to push and push and push…
‘Sometimes love that starts as friendship develops into passion over time,’ he said.
She was shaking her head. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘I saw you tonight with him,’ he persisted. ‘He made you happy.’
He felt as if he was stabbing himself. But it was the right thing to do.
He edged away from her. ‘I want you to be happy, Nia.’
‘I am happy. Here. With you.’
He pushed off the bed. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t say what he needed to say with her so close.
‘This isn’t real. And you deserve better. You deserve the best and Lord Airlie is the best. He’s rich and kind and he loves you.’ He went for the jugular. ‘And when I’ve gone, he will still be here. You need to think about that—about your future.’
She was looking at him as if he was a stranger. ‘And you think Andrew’s my future?’
Her eyes were bright.
‘I can’t marry a man I don’t love, and—’ Her voice faltered and she cleared her throat. ‘And I don’t want to think about the future.’
There was a silence.
Then, lifting her face, she met his gaze. ‘All I can think about is you and me and how I don’t want it to end just yet.’