“I don’t think—”
“I want your word you’ll tell me and we’ll marry.”
Shock slammed through her and she tried to jerk away. “Marry? You?”
His lips lengthened in a wry smile. “Please don’t spare my feelings.”
She stiffened, horrified where her recklessness had led. It had taken her painful soul-searching to reach a point where she was willing to trust her body to Jonas. The idea of trusting the rest of her life to him pushed against barriers she’d spent years fortifying. “You know I have no wish to marry.”
All humor fled his face. “No child of mine will be born a bastard.”
“You don’t want to marry me.”
His eyebrows arched. “I can think of worse fates.”
Astonishment made her words sound like flat denial. “Well, I don’t want to marry you.”
“Clearly, but that’s my offer.”
She drew herself up and this time he released her. “After all the flirtation and… kissing and promises of seduction, you’ll send me away if I won’t agree to this one thing?”
His jaw set in an implacable line, although she read regret in his eyes. “Ridiculous, isn’t it?”
“You didn’t say this last night.”
“Yes, well, last night proved a salutary lesson in the consequences of the selfish quest for pleasure.”
“You never thought about pregnancy? That’s too disingenuous.”
“It seemed counterproductive to raise this subject too early.”
She glowered. Why, oh, why was he doing this? Why wasn’t he catching her up in his arms and kissing her into a wild heaven? “It’s counterproductive to raise it now.”
A faint grimness shadowed his features. “I know I’m nobody’s idea of husband material, Sidonie.”
“No man is husband material,” she said sourly, challenging what she hoped was mere bluff. “Perhaps I should go back to Barstowe Hall after all.”
Before he spoke, she knew he wouldn’t relent. Of course he wouldn’t. He understood the stigma of illegitimacy too well. “You’re free.”
Free to return to her dull life at Barstowe Hall. Free to forgo her only chance at forbidden pleasure. Free never to see Jonas Merrick again. The thought chilled her like the wind against the cliffs last night.
She was free but she cursed her freedom.
“I don’t want to leave you.” Her gaze clung to his face as she frantically sought some hint of concession.
For a moment, she thought she might have won. He made a convulsive movement toward her and raised his hand to touch her.
He stopped before making contact. Strain tightened the skin over his angular features. “I don’t want you to go, bella.”
“Marriage is such a—” Her voice petered away.
Jonas surveyed her with a perceptive light in his eyes, as if he guessed her turbulent thoughts. “Serious step.”
The thought of marriage made her feel choked and trapped. More trapped than she’d felt offering herself to save Roberta. That was for a night, at most a week. Marriage was a lifetime of servitude. Rationally she recognized Jonas wasn’t William. It didn’t matter. The long-standing fear of male oppression born in childhood remained. She’d never deliver herself into
a man’s power the way a wife delivered herself to a husband. The way Roberta had delivered herself to William. The way her mother had delivered herself to her father. “Perhaps the need won’t arise.”
“Perhaps not.” His beautiful voice flattened, always a sign that he struggled for control. “Contingencies must be considered.”