As if sensing his presence, Vanessa looked up from her book. “Did you want me for something?”
Yes, he thought. I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.
Slowly Damien entered the room. Halting a short distance from her, he cleared his throat. “I have a proposal to put to you.”
“Yes?”
His cravat felt too tight. He walked over to the mantel and gazed down at the empty hearth. “A proposal… literally. I would like to make you a formal offer of marriage.”
The silence that followed was total.
When he realized she didn’t mean to answer, Damien glanced over his shoulder. Vanessa had gone pale.
“Why?” she finally murmured.
This was not the reaction he’d expected or hoped for. She looked stunned… and wary.
“Why?” he repeated absently.
“Why would you offer me marriage when your planned revenge is proceeding so smoothly?”
Because it isn’t proceeding smoothly at all. “Because it is a logical solution to your current difficulty. You desire a wealthy patron, and I am wealthy enough to fill the position.”
Her eyes were as dark as a moonlit ocean, but far more troubled. “I married for wealth once, and it proved a disaster.”
“I hardly think the situation is comparable.”
“No, I suppose not.” Distractedly she set down her book. “I understand the financial advantages our marriage would provide me, but that doesn’t explain why you would wish to wed.”
“Call it a crisis of conscience.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I was wrong to insist you become my mistress. This is a way for me to make amends.”
“You mean to withdraw from our agreement? To claim the family estates my brother lost to you?”
“No, that is not what I mean,” Damien returned with an edge of impatience. His heart twisted at the knowledge she could think him capable of being that underhanded. Moreover, he had earned her distrust. “You’ve fulfilled our bargain more than adequately.”
“Then why do you feel you must make amends?”
“I’ve come to realize how untenable the situation is that I’ve put you in. Truthfully, it disturbs me to think I initiated your foray into prostitution. In reparation I’m prepared to offer you the protection of my name and fortune.”
She studied him for a long moment. “You are proposing to me because of guilt? I won’t fetter you to me out of guilt, Damien.”
His mouth curved in a humorless smile. “Guilt is as good a reason to wed as any.”
Her dark eyes remained steady. “For me, it isn’t.” She took a deep breath. “In circumstances such as these, my lord, I believe the proper etiquette is to express gratitude. So I will. I am honored and flattered by your generous offer, but I must politely decline.”
Damien was glad he was so skilled at shielding his expressions, for it allowed him to conceal the turmoil he felt. “Am I allowed an explanation for your refusal?”
“A marriage between us would never work.”
“I try not to be more than normally obtuse, but I fail to understand why it wouldn’t.”
“You don’t love me,” she said simply.
“Love?” His frown was cynical. “What does love have to say to the matter?”
“I’ve vowed never to endure another loveless marriage.”
His features softened a measure. “I would never treat you as your boor of a husband treated you.”
“Perhaps you wouldn’t consciously intend to. But you may not be able to help yourself. You would never be happy having to honor your marriage vows, and I would be miserable with anything less.”
He stared at her. “You are asking for fidelity.”
“I suppose I am.”
When he didn’t reply, Vanessa gazed at him sadly. Damien was a born rake, a restless soul who had no use for love. He wanted her body for the moment. Yet once his desire for her faded, he would doubtless revert to form and cause her the same misery her late husband had. She couldn’t bear loving Damien so desperately and enduring his betrayal.
“We are not at all compatible,” she added quietly. “The life you lead… isn’t the sort of life I would ever willingly choose again. I’ve had enough of scandal and debauchery.”
“If you embark on a career as a Cyprian, you will likely find both.”
“Perhaps. But at least it will be on my own terms. As your wife I would have few rights. Legally I would be little more than your possession. Becoming a Cyprian is still preferable to enduring a wretched marriage.”
“And you’re certain ours would be wretched?”
“For me, it would be.” She saw a muscle flex in his jaw, and she spread her hands in a gesture of conciliation. “We have nothing in common, Damien.”
“I would say we have a great deal in common.” He moved toward her purposefully. “Passion, for one.”
Taking her hands, he drew her to her feet and pulled her close against his body. The brief kiss he gave her to demonstrate his point was shattering and left her breathless with longing.
“You cannot claim,” Damien asserted, his voice low with determination, “that we are physically incompatible. Your body would refute you.”
Vanessa bit her lip, knowing he was aware of her flushed skin, her rapid heartbeat, her nipples peaked with desire.
“You arouse my body, I can’t deny that. But marriage should mean something more than the gratification of physical desire. It should mean love and caring and commitment. Building a home and family. You don’t want a family, any more than you want a wife. I would want children some day, Damien. You clearly don’t.”
He stiffened. “I doubt I am capable of being much of a father-look at my record with my sister. But I admit I have a duty to carry on the title. I would have no objection to producing an heir at some future point.”
“I would never bring a child into your world,” she replied, her voice low, bleak.
For the first time Damien showed a hint of anger. “Perhaps I should have chosen a more romantic setting. You might have found my proposal more amenable had I plied you with roses and moonlight.”
“Roses and moonlight could not induce me to marry you.” When his jaw clenched, Vanessa shook her head. “Come now, you don’t truly want to wed me. I mean nothing to you.”
His eyes darkened, something subtle and dangerous moving in the gray depths. “I could seriously debate that point.” He captured her hand and pressed her palm against his groin, letting her feel his hardness. “Is this the mark of a man’s indifference?”
Vanessa lifted her chin at his attempt to intimidate her. “It is the mark of a man with oversized sexual appetites- and I have no doubt there are countless women eager to satisfy them.”
“There seem to be any number of men eager to satisfy yours,” Damien retorted as she withdrew from his embrace. “Clune offered to wager me for your sexual services, were you aware?”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“I confess myself astonished. A gamester like yourself is always primed for a wager.”
He gave her a stony stare, his eyes hot and bright as molten silver. “I won’t countenance your giving your body to the likes of Clune.”
Vanessa returned his gaze defiantly, until another thought dawned on her. “You cannot possibly be jealous of your friend? Is that what this proposal is about? He’s offended your sense of ownership?”
For the first time she saw vulnerability in Damien’s shuttered face. Vanessa inhaled a steadying breath. “You may rest assured, I have no desire to have Lord Clune for a lover or protector. Or any of your other friends, for that matter. And most certainly you may ease your conscience. You are not responsible for my actions, or my welfare. There is no need for you to feel the least guilty.”