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between them. But this was a different situation. There was no doubt in his mind this was his obligation, his duty. If it were only that, he could explain it to her rationally. But there was nothing rational about the way he felt about her. Nothing rational about the way the desire surged through his veins.
“I’ve taken you by surprise,” he said, getting to his feet and clasping his hands together behind his back. He couldn’t tell her he loved her or that he desired her, that would only frighten her and she surely wouldn’t believe him. He had to present it from another angle. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but surely you see the logic of it. How advantageous it would be.”
“Oh yes,” she said, leaning forward, the color rising in her face. “Because I married for political advantage the last time, it seems obvious to you I should do so again. But I’m not the same woman I was. I’m on my own now. My father is dead, God rest his soul, and from now on, I make my own decisions. I have learned many painful lessons in these past eight months. One is this: I will never marry again. Not for any reason.” Her blue eyes shot sparks of determination. He stared fascinated. This was not what he expected. An inner strength forged by what had happened to her.
“My brother has done this to you,” Charles said. His brother had turned a sweet young girl into a stubborn young woman. He’d never forgive him for destroying her innocence. It was up to him to make it up to her. To show her all men were not like his brother.
“I agreed to the match so I bear some responsibility,” she said. “Yes, I did it to please my father, but I could have resisted. I didn’t. He was very strong-willed.”
“It seems to run in the family,” he said. He had to admit he admired her willpower, in spite of the fact that she was using it against him.
“Perhaps,” she said with a rueful half smile.
“If you won’t think of yourself, think of the child. I want to give it a home, a father.”
Her smile faded. “You want to be the father of my child,” she said flatly, in obvious disbelief.
“Yes.” He couldn’t stop his gaze from resting on the striped smock that covered her stomach, imagining the life underneath, imagining the swell of her belly, the transformation that maternity would make on her hips and her breasts. A jolt of desire hit him along with a fistful of doubts. What kind of a father would he be, he who’d grown up with parents who were more concerned with their image than their children? What was his real motive here, was it to take his brother’s bride and make her his or to take care of her because his brother didn’t? Or did it have something to do with the irrational desire to take her away and make love to her so passionately she’d forget anyone else had ever touched her?
“Because you feel sorry for me,” she said.
“Because I feel responsible for you,” he said. Say it. Tell her. Because I desire you. Because you’re the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. Because I’ve wanted you from the first moment I saw you.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not good enough. I appreciate the thought, but the answer is no.”
“Won’t you think it over?” he asked.
“I don’t need to think it over,” she said. “I have more important things to think about.”
Brave words. She was a brave woman. And a stubborn one. He knew he couldn’t push her any further. If she decided to marry him, she would have to come to that decision on her own. He had to admit, her summary refusal hurt him more than he’d thought it would. If his brother had plunged a knife in his chest, Lise had just twisted it with her refusal. He wasn’t sure what he’d pictured, perhaps tears of gratitude, perhaps joy and happiness at being rescued, but not this.
“Very well,” he said brusquely. “I’m sorry to have bothered you.” He turned to go.
“Charles, wait.” She stepped forward and put her hand on his arm as he reached for the door. “Don’t think I’m not grateful to you. I appreciate your concern for my welfare. My answer has nothing to do with you personally. It would be the same no matter who you were. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’ve been through a very bad period and I need time to recover.”
He turned to face her. A surge of hope sprang from her words. Of course, she needed time to recover. He’d spent a lifetime recovering from his brother’s oppressive presence. He wanted to smooth the tiny worry lines in her forehead and tuck a stray curl of hair behind her ear. He wanted to trace the outline of her soft cheek with the pad of his thumb. He wanted to hold her close and tell her she would recover and that she needed him. He wanted to feel her body pressed close to his. But he knew she wasn’t ready for that. Maybe she never would be. Why couldn’t he have been the one to marry her in the first place? He knew the answer to that one. Wilhelm was the oldest, the fair-haired boy. The boy who always got everything he’d ever wanted.
“Take all the time you need,” he said. He could only hope she would come around, she had to. For her sake. For the baby’s sake. For his sake.
“All the time in the world will not convince me to marry again,” she said firmly and his hopes went down just as fast as they’d risen a moment ago.
“I understand,” he said. “I won’t trouble you again.” He opened the front door and stepped out into the rain while Lise stood in the doorway. “But if there’s anything I can do for you, please let me know. I am determined to make amends for my brother’s grievous behavior.”
“The only things I want from your family are my belongings. I left Rhineland so precipitously, I brought with me only a small suitcase.” She looked down at her leggings, knowing she could get by perfectly well if she could only stay in her workshop all day, but unfortunately, one of these days, she hoped later rather than sooner, she’d be forced to take her place in the world again and attend some social functions, and then she’d need all those dresses, shoes, riding outfits and sailing garb. On the other hand, she wondered how much longer her clothes would fit.
“Consider it done,” he said soberly.
“Thank you. Good-bye,” she said. “Bon voyage.”
“Bon voyage?” he said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I thought you’d be going back—”
“Not to Rhineland. Or to the U.S. Not now. It is not only you but my work that has brought me back to Europe and to St. Michel in particular. I am setting up a joint venture with the vintners of your country, producing wine under our label. I have an office here and I’m looking for a place to live.”
“Oh.” She paused for a long moment, trying to digest this news. Charles was staying in St. Michel. It was a small country, an even smaller city on the banks of the river. If he was here, she didn’t know how she could avoid seeing him, even though she was currently leading the life of a hermit. It could be awkward. She felt awkward at that moment, not knowing what to say.
She didn’t dare give him hope she’d change her mind, because she had no intention of doing that. Perhaps he was hoping she’d be pleased at this news, but she couldn’t feign any emotion at all.
He seemed just as awkward as she did. The silence hung as heavily as the leaden skies above them.
“Well, then,” she said at last, “please ignore everything I said. I don’t need my things I left behind in Rhineland very much after all. I won’t say good-bye, just au revoir.”
He leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and then he was gone.
Lise stood in the doorway until his car disappeared from sight. Then she went back to the kitchen, sat down at the kitchen table and buried her head in her hands.
What kind of a man was he to accept her refusal so graciously? No temper tantrums, no rages or threats. No reminders of what her future held as a single mother in St. Michel without a husband or a father or protection from the palace. He looked so much like Wilhelm, it frightened