There was something in his expression she could not entirely read. Something that looked almost like reverence, almost like wonder, almost like the same terrible realization that was currently settling in her own chest.
This moment mattered. This act was not just an item on a list, not just a final adventure before she resigned herself to a respectable marriage.
That she had fallen in love with him.
Oh.
“Anthony,” she said softly.
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheekbone. “You’re beautiful.”
She turned her face into his palm, her lips brushing against his skin, and the tenderness of the moment made her throat tighten.
This was what she wanted. Not just the physical pleasure, though that had been extraordinary beyond anything she could have imagined. But this, theintimacyof it… the way he looked at her as though she mattered, as though she was someone worth remembering, worth this careful attention.
“Take me,” she whispered.
She watched him go completely still, his hand freezing against her cheek.
“Caroline—”
“I want you to,” she said, and her voice was steady now, certain. “I want this. I wantyou.”
She could see it in his eyes: thewant, the struggle, the war between what he wanted and what he thought was right.
And she wanted him to feel the same desire. God, she wanted him to. She wanted him to carry her upstairs and make love to her properly. She wanted to wake up beside him.
She wanted this to bereal.
But she saw the moment his face changed, and an emotion that looked almost like pain shifted behind his eyes. He pulled his hand away from her face and stood, putting distance between them.
“No,” he said.
She sat up slowly, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What?”
“I won’t. I cannot.” He turned away from her, toward the fire. “I can’t ruin you.”
“Ruinme?” Her voice was sharp now, edged with hurt. “I’m asking you to?—”
“I know what you’re asking.” He turned back to face her, and the look on his face nearly broke her. “And I’m telling you no.”
She stood, smoothing down her skirts with trembling hands. She could feel the walls going back up inside her. The careful composure she had let slip away came back piece by piece.
“Why?” she asked quietly.
She was left with nowhere to look but to watch him choose silence over truth.
“Because,” he said, “our arrangement is over.”
The words landed between them like a door slamming shut. It wasfinal. And she stared at him for a long moment, searching his face forwhat…she didn’t know, but she knew it was something he would not give her.
Then she nodded once, a small, jerky movement, and turned away.
“I see,” she said.
She crossed to the chair where she had left her cloak and picked it up. Her movements were sluggish, as though she was drifting through water. And maybe…maybe she was hoping he would take his words back, maybe he would tell her that it was not so…and she tried not to let herself think about it.
Her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and she hated that he could see the tremor in them, the evidence of what she was fighting to conceal.