‘Why?’
‘Because I need to!’ he ground out harshly.
‘Again, why?’
Darian forced all trace of anger from his voice and expression, already knowing that Mariah did not react well to either. ‘Perhaps you might humour me by doing so?’
Her eyes flashed darkly. ‘There was nothing in the least humorous about my marriage.’
He sighed. ‘Perhaps I chose the wrong word. It would please me if you would do me the honour of confiding in me, Mariah,’ he amended softly.
She looked at him searchingly for several long seconds, no doubt looking for sarcasm or mockery in his expression, but surely she would find only sincerity.
‘Please, Mariah,’ Darian encouraged again gently.
She breathed heavily. ‘I married Carlisle for none of the reasons you have mentioned.’ Her tone was still cold, uncompromising. ‘My father was—still is, a very wealthy man. But Carlisle’s coffers were bare and he required some of that wealth.’ She shrugged. ‘Enough to marry a woman he did not love and who did not love him. As might well be expected from such an ill-matched alliance, it was not a happy marriage. For either of us. And that is an end to it.’
Darian doubted that very much. ‘And is that the reason you had affairs with other men? Why you now attend licentious weekend parties such as this one?’
‘You are being deliberately insulting!’ Her cheeks were flushed.
‘I am trying to understand.’ Darian drew in a deep and controlling breath as he saw the way in which Mariah drew back at his forcefulness. ‘Can you not see, I am trying to understand you, Mariah,’ he spoke more calmly, evenly, knowing his impatience would not endear him to Mariah, or encourage her in the confidences he wanted, needed, to hear from her.
‘Why?’ She eyed him challengingly. ‘What should it matter one way or another whether or not you understand me?’
Darian ground his teeth together. ‘It matters to me.’
She smiled without humour. ‘That is no answer at all.’
He sighed. ‘Can you not see I am puzzled as to why any young and beautiful woman would marry a man she admits she did not love, who did not love her and who was so much older than herself? I could better understand it if Carlisle had been rich and you or your family had been in need. Or even if you fancied yourself as being Carlisle’s countess. But you have denied any and all of those as being the reason for entering into a marriage that you admit to knowing would bring you no happiness. I can think of no other reason why—’ Darian broke off abruptly, eyes widening as a third alternative began to take form and root in his mind.
A third alternative that would most certainly have required that Mariah must marry Carlisle.
Could that possibly be the answer to this puzzle?
Mariah admitted to being four and thirty, and her daughter, Christina, was now aged seventeen, which meant that Mariah could only have been sixteen when that daughter was conceived.
‘You were with child when you married Carlisle,’ he breathed softly, knowing he had guessed correctly as he saw every last vestige of colour leach from Mariah’s already pale cheeks.
Mariah drew her breath sharply, wishing she could deny it, yet at the same time she knew there was no point in her doing so.
Wolfingham had been intelligent enough, determined enough, to accurately guess as to the reason for her marriage to Martin. If she denied it now he would only need to ask any who had been part of society seventeen years ago to discover—to confirm—that the Earl and Countess of Carlisle’s daughter had been born not quite seven months after their wedding had taken place.
Her chin rose challengingly. ‘Yes, I was with child when Martin and I married.’
Those intelligent green eyes continued to look down at her, searching, probing, as if Wolfingham might pluck the answers to the rest of this mystery from inside her head.
Outwardly Mariah withstood the probe of that astute green gaze, her chin raised in challenge as her turquoise gaze returned his unflinchingly.
But inwardly she was far less secure in her emotions. In being able to withstand these probing questions, coming so soon after they had visited Aphrodite’s Temple together. Not just because of those erotic and disturbing paintings and statues, but also because her body was still deeply aroused from Darian’s kisses coming so soon after, and the manner in which he had touched her, aroused her, between her thighs.
An arousal, a desire for more, that she knew had already battered her shaky defences.
‘How was such a thing possible?’ Darian breathed softly.
Mariah gave a humourless laugh at the incongruity of the question. ‘I believe Christina to have been conceived in the same manner in which all children are!’
Darian reached out to grasp the tops of her arms, relaxing his hold slightly as he instantly became aware of the way in which Mariah was trembling. ‘You are avoiding answering the question directly, Mariah.’