Page 109 of A Momentary Marriage

She jerked her arm away and whirled, rushing from the room.

chapter 43

Cursing under his breath, James hurried after her, catching up with Laura in the hallway. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the nearest room, locking the door behind him. “Damn it, you are going to listen to me.”

Laura pulled her arm from his hand and pointedly walked away. She faced him, straight as an arrow, chin high and her face bright with challenge. Just the sight of her was like a punch in the chest to him. James wanted to kiss her, to shake her, to beg her to forgive him. All the rage and terror of the past hours surged up in him, mingling with love and lust in a potent mix that momentarily robbed him of speech.

Laura apparently did not have the same problem. “After all this time, after all that’s happened, after abandoning me and running off to London, not bothering to write a single time, not even to let me know Claude hadn’t murdered you en route—”

“I didn’t abandon you!”

“No? I don’t know what else you would call leaving me here, not even considering taking me with you. You obviously didn’t want my company.”

“That’s mad.” How had his attempt to apologize turned into this? “Of course I—I always want—damn it, you had plenty of company.”

“Much as I appreciate Demosthenes, a dog is not a substitute for a husband.”

“You have Graeme! You run over there all the time anyway. I just gave you more time to spend with him.”

Laura gaped at him. “Graeme! I don’t spend time with Graeme.”

“Oh. My mistake.” His voice dripped sarcasm. “No doubt you visit Lydcombe all the time because you’re bosom friends with the woman he married instead of you.”

“I cannot understand why you are jealous of Graeme when I am of so little importance to you.”

He stared at her. “So little importance! Good God, do you really think that I—”

“I know”—she cut through his words, taking a step forward, arms stiff at her side and hands clenched—“that you are indifferent to me. That you don’t love me. You told me yourself.”

“And you believed me?” He gave a short, bitter laugh.

“It’s what you said.”

“I lied!” James flung his arms wide. “You know I lied. You knew it even then.”

“No,” she said quietly, her eyes steady on his. “I only hoped.”

“Then you got what you wanted.” James swung away. He couldn’t bear to look at her face. The emptiness that had been gnawing at him for the past week flooded out, consuming him. He gripped the mantel with one hand, as if it would help hold down the storm inside him. “Of course I love you. When I saw you almost killed, it terrified me. I am hopelessly, idiotically in love with you. As big a fool as my father ever was. Worse. I’m eaten up with you, and I spend every day dreading that you will—”

He broke off with a growl of disgust. “Damn it!” James lifted a porcelain dog from the mantel and hurled it onto the hearth, where it shattered. “Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.” He followed the first statue with its mate on the other end and finished with a heavy stone elephant that did not smash but only chipped its tail and put a crack in the slate hearth.

Laura stood, openmouthed, watching him. James refused to look at her, crossing his arms over his chest, hands tucked beneath them, and set his jaw. It had gone from bad to worse; now he’d made a perfect idiot of himself in front of her. Again.

“Well,” Laura said after a silence that stretched his nerves. She let out a breathy little laugh. “That was the most graceless declaration of love I would ever hope to hear.”

James flicked a black look at her. “I am well aware that I have made myself a figure of fun.”

“James . . .” She laid her hand on his arm. He flinched, but did not pull away. “Do you mean it? You love me?”

“Of course I mean it. How many times must I say it?” He kept his head turned, unable to face what he might see in her eyes.

“Only a few thousand more.” Laura slid her hand up his arm soothingly. “Why do you make it so hard? Why do you hate it that you feel something for me?”

“It’s not ‘something.’ It’s everything.” James could not keep from turning to her even though he knew all he felt must show on his face. “I am lost. I’ve given my heart utterly into your hands. And I know—”

“What? What do you know?” She moved closer, gazing up into his eyes. “What is it that terrifies you?”

“You will never feel for me what you did for Graeme,” he said roughly, pulling his arm from her grasp and taking a step back. “I know that I will never have you, that you will always wish, deep down, that I were he.”