From this height Clarissa could see more of Lord Amleigh’s home—a solid stone block with a lot of chimneys. “Jacobean?” she guessed.

“Early Charles I, but close enough. It doesn’t have the elegance of Van’s house, or the age of mine, and the Somerfords haven’t been wealthy since the Civil War, so it’s shabby in places. But it was always my favorite place to be.” He’d come to a halt considering it. “It was always a place of love and kindness and tranquil days.”

“What happened to them?”

More violence?

He looked at her as if coming out of memories. “Was I speaking in the past tense? That comes out of my mind rather than reality. But Con’s father and brother died while we were in the army. It was his father’s heart. His brother drowned. Fred was boating mad. His mother and younger sister still live there, however, and he has two older sisters who are married with families of their own.”

Clarissa gave thanks for what sounded like a normal family. She was beginning to think such things a matter only for fable!

“And Lord Vandeimen? He doesn’t mention any family.”

He gestured for them to walk on, and she obeyed. She noted, however, that he didn’t touch her this time as he had so many times before. Had that burst of violence indicated a change of mind in him, as well as for her?

What was she to do about that?

“Sadly, Van has none left. It’s hard to believe. Steynings was always so full of life. His mother and one sister died in the influenza that swept through here. His other sister died in childbirth a year ago, on the exact day of Waterloo. God alone knows, death was not short of business that day.” He collected himself. “It’s not surprising that his father went downhill. He shot himself.”

“And Lord Vandeimen came home from battle to all that? How terrible.”

“But his marriage has begun to heal the wounds.”

Marriage. Capable of healing, capable of wounding. She suddenly saw it not as a device, as a comfortable matter of orange blossoms and beds, but as an elemental force.

“My parents were not like that,” she said, half to herself. “I’m sure their marriage was always… and.”

“Perhaps not. Many marriages begin with dreams and ideals.”

She looked at him, realizing that they were talking about marriage—now, when she had become dreadfully uncertain.

“What of your parents, Hawk?”

“Mine?” His laugh was short and bitter. “My father tricked my mother into marriage to gain her estate. Once he had it, he gave her no further thought other than to push her out of his way.”

She stared at him, thinking perhaps she at last understood his lack of action. “You fear to be like your father?” she asked softly.

They had stopped again. “Perhaps,” he said.

She grasped her courage. “If we were to marry, would you give me no further thought other than to push me out of your way?”

Humor, true humor, sparked in his eyes. “If I found you in my way, I’d likely ravish you on the spot.”

She laughed, feeling her face burn with hot pleasure. “Then marry me, Hawk!”

And thus Hawk found himself frozen, pinned to an impossible spot by the words that had escaped him. If he said no, she would shrivel. If he said yes, it would be the direst betrayal.

He could not trap her without telling her the truth. If he told the truth, she would flee.

He’d been silent too long. Mortification rushed into her cheeks, and she turned to stumble away down the path.

He caught her round the waist, stopping her, pulling her against him. “Clarissa, I’m sorry! You are being very generous, and I… Dazzled by sunshine and wilderness adventures with you, I’m in no state to make a logical decision.”

She fought him. He felt tears splash on his hands. In fear of hurting her, he let her go.

She whirled on him, brushing angrily at her eyes with both hands. “Logical! Do you deny that you went to Cheltenham in search of the Devil’s Heiress?”

“No.”

“Then why, for heaven’s sake, when the rabbit wants to leap into the wolfs jaws, are you stepping back?”

“Perhaps, dammit, because rabbits are not supposed to leap into jaws!”

She planted her fists on her hips. “So! You will hold my boldness against me and cling to conventional ways!” Her look up and down was magnificently annihilating. “I thought better of you, sir.”

With that salvo, she turned and marched away, and this time he did not try to stop her. He watched for a moment, transfixed with admiration and pure, raging lust.

My God, but he wanted this treasure of a woman in every possible way. He forced his feet into action to follow, plunging madly back into thought to find an answer, a solution. And it was as much for her as for him. He could not bear to see her suffer like this.

He could accept her offer of marriage. He recognized it for the worm it was, but he could make a clear case in favor.

She loved him. Perhaps she would forgive. Perhaps she would accept a future as Lady Deveril. If not, she would be the offended party, and could march off, banners flying. He’d keep not a penny more of her money than he absolutely needed, and would never try to restrict her freedom. He’d give her a divorce if she wanted it.

But divorce always shamed the woman. She would never be restored to the promise of life that she had now. He would be stealing that from her.

And it would have to be an elopement, with all the problems he’d already considered. All the problems that had made him reject that course. He had always prided himself on courage and an iron will, but now he’d found his weakness. He seemed able to stick to nothing where Clarissa was concerned.

Van.

He had made his friend a promise. He’d already gone further than he ought. Elopement, though—that would be an outright violation. Van might even feel obliged to call him out.

God Almighty! That would be the hellish nadir, to risk killing or being killed by one of his closest friends.

The path separated from the high stone wall, and Clarissa took the branch heading toward the river and the humpbacked bridge. He watched her straight back and high-held head.

Such courage, though he was sure she was still fighting tears. She hurt. He knew that. She wouldn’t agree now, but it was a minor hurt that time would heal.

He must stick to his other plan and let her fly free.

Clarissa watched a crow flap up from the field in front of her and wished she could simply fly away from this excruciating situation. All she could do, however, was hurry to rejoin her party and return to Brighton.

Empty, purposeless Brighton.

No more Hawk.

Why had he pursued her if he did not want her? Why had he kissed her like that in the wilderness if he did not want her? Was it true what they said, that a man would kiss and ravish any woman, given the chance?

It hadn’t felt like that, but what did she know of the reality between men and women?

But, oh, it hurt to think that all her money was not sweetening enough to make her palatable.

She was sure that he was still coming along behind her, and she longed to turn and scream stupid, pride-salving things at him. That she didn’t want him. Didn’t need him. That she thought his kisses horrid.

She bit her lip. As if anyone would believe that.

All she could do was escape with the shreds of her dignity intact.

And then what?

No more Hawk.

No Hawk in the Vale.

No heaven for her. Ever.

She came to a stile, and for a stupid moment the wooden structure seemed like an insurmountable obstacle, especially with tears blurring her vision. She gathered her skirts in order to climb it.

Hawk suddenly stepped past her to climb over and offer her a hand. She had to face him again. Was she fooling herself that his eyes seemed to mirror her pain?

She put her hand in his, realizing by sight that it was gloveless. Somewhere in the wilderness she had mislaid that symbol of the well-bred lady.

As she stepped up on her side, he said, “I’m sorry. You know how to turn a man topsy-turvy, Clarissa.”

“It’s entirely an accident, I assure you. I know nothing.”

“I shouldn’t have criticized you for making that proposal.” He was blocking her way, but at a point where she was nearly a foot taller. Deliberately giving her that superiority?

“I meant what I said,” he went on. “I’m dazzled. This has been an unexpected and remarkable day, and our adventures in the wilderness were enough to turn any man crazed. You must see that.”

The splinters of ice in her heart started to melt, but he wasn’t really explaining. Or accepting her offer.

“I can’t answer you now,” he said. “I told you about my parents. My mother flung herself into marriage with my father in a state of blind adoration, then clung to her disappointment for the rest of her life. Marriage is not a matter to be decided in emotion.”

She stared down at him. “You’re likening me to your father? You, sir, are the fortune hunter here!”

“Then why did you ask me to marry you?”

She knew she was turning red again. “Very well. I, like your father, lust after Hawk in the Vale. At least I’m honest about it. And I won’t push you aside if you get in my way.”

There was something to be said for anger, she realized, and for an additional foot of height!

“And,” she added, “you went to Cheltenham looking for me.”

“Yes.”

“Checking me out before making a commitment?”

A smile twitched his lips. “I liked what I found.”

“And you suggested that I come to Brighton.”

“Yes.”

“And kissed me at the fair.”

“Yes.”

“And took me into the wilderness.”

He looked rather as if she were raining blows on him. That didn’t stop her. She would not play coy games anymore.