The Fairy Tale Bride

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

He watched as she retreated into a cold stranger who could stand there and calmly announce that she was leaving him — as if he did not know what he was doing in refusing Katherine. He thought briefly that she was simply being melodramatic. But a glance into her eyes convinced him otherwise.

She had no idea what she was asking of him, of course. Again, her innocence led her into trouble. Making a friend of a woman like Katherine. It was too absurd for words. And yet, he could still remember the difficulty he had had when his mother had accused him of fathering Betsy.

He wished he dared to throw in her face the simple fact that he would never deny a child of his — never keep a child from knowing the name of his or her true father, as his mother had done with him. But then the scandal would no longer be a family secret. He could not afford that. He had promised.

For a moment, he forced himself to consider letting Miranda go. Just nodding, saying nothing as she walked out, her spine stiff, Betsy’s tiny hand cradled in her own. She would do it, he had no doubt. She was not threatening him, she was laying down the battle lines and the terms of surrender in one clean shot.

Valentine would take her in. Her sisters would divert any lingering shame or misery with their demands upon her time. Miranda would go back to her old life as if she had never married. And he would be free of the torment of being married to her yet unable to make love with her.

But the thought of living the rest of his short life as the duke without her near enough to touch was unbearable. “Don’t be ridiculous. You are my wife, you will go nowhere.”

“Oh, Simon,” she whispered. “I must.”

“I will not allow it,” he said, slowly and clearly. He wanted her to know it would be a waste of time to argue. In this matter, he knew better than she. Though he did not expect her to surrender easily.

She smiled, almost involuntarily, and his heart gave an extra jolt when he saw that there were tears in her eyes. “It seems that I am the pea to your Princess.”

For a moment, he was flummoxed. And then he remembered the tale to which she referred, in which a princess was so delicate that a pea placed under twenty mattresses disturbed her sleep.

Fairytales again. Would she never realize that they lived in a world that did not often see a happy ending? “Do not spout your fairytales at me.”

Anger, hurt, and distrust warred on her expressive face as she said softly, “It hardly seems a fairytale to me, who must live it.” Her eyes were liquid with pain, but she met his gaze without flinching.

Her pain echoed within him and intensified as he realized that she was, for the first time, not convinced of a happy ending for them. He had wanted this, but the slow death of her innocence was horrifying for him to watch. As horrifying as the eager young faces of the men he had daily sent off to their deaths as a result of an indifferent ball of lead.

But what courage she had. Even with her assurance rocked, her voice was steady. “You have told me that to be your wife I must not try to stem the course of your illness.” She clenched her fists convulsively as she spoke, he noticed, but otherwise she projected a calm front. “I must not sleep next to you at night — nor kiss you too passionately.” A faint blush stained her cheeks and he felt ashamed of how badly he was hurting her. “Now you tell me that I am not capable enough to hire my own lady’s maid.” Her chin came up. “I am capable of running my own life. I don’t need you.” She paused and closed her eyes. “I just want you.”

His throat closed as her quiet words cut through him.

She opened her eyes and made as if to step closer to him, but halted. Her gaze was clear and certain. “Don’t you understand? If you do nothing to stop the course of your illness, you will die. And then I will need to do much more than hire a servant on my own.”