Page 46 of A Rogue at Stonecliffe

He went on, “I was wrong to ask you to marry me. It was selfish—I knew how vulnerable you were in that moment, that you were scared that I was going to die and so relieved when I didn’t.”

“I said yes. You didn’t make me become engaged to you,” Annabeth protested, though she could not deny his words. She had been beside herself with worry, praying as hard as she could that one of her dearest friends wouldn’t be taken from her. When he got better, it had seemed like a gift from God.

“But I took advantage of your emotions.” Nathan looked away, as if he could not meet her gaze. “I knew you didn’t love me, but I told myself that if we were married, I would be such a good husband and father that you would come to love me. I excused it by saying that you would at least be happier than you are living with Lady Lockwood.”

“You will be a wonderful father and husband.” Annabeth took a step toward him, reaching out.

Nathan moved back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Annabeth, please... Don’t make this even harder than it is. In the past, I thought marrying you would be enough.” Nathan’s sad smile made Annabeth’s heart squeeze painfully. “I told myself that somehow I could love you so much that it would make up for what you didn’t feel.”

“But I do love you.”

He nodded stiffly. “Just not the way you love him.”

Annabeth froze, momentarily taken aback. “Nathan, if this is about choosing to go on this hunt with Sloane instead of you, that was merely a practical decision. I don’t love Sloane.”

“Call it what you want to call it. When you look at him, there is a look in your eyes that... Well, I wish I saw that when you looked at me, but it’s not there. And I can’t ignore that.”

“Please, don’t do this. There is no future for me with Sloane. You and I will be happy once this is all over.”

“I won’t pretend this doesn’t hurt. And there’s a part of me, a very selfish part of me, that wants to hold you to your promise, to make you stay with me. But I refuse to give in to that.”

Annabeth felt as if she was being torn apart. Nathan had been her friend for as long as she could remember. “Nathan, I can’t lose you.”

He smiled, though his eyes glittered with moisture. “You won’t lose me. Ever. I was your friend before I fell in love with you. I’ll always be here.”

Annabeth swallowed, willing back the tears that wanted to flow. Protesting only made this more difficult for him. Nathan was being the stalwart gentleman, as he always was, controlling his own emotions, making the way smooth. But she could see the pain in his eyes—pain she had put there, no matter how much he tried to take the blame. Her protests would only make it more difficult for him. So she said only, “I want that.”

“I know you have good intentions, Annabeth. But in the long run it will be better this way. For you and for me. I want to find something real. Something irrefutable. I deserve more than half your heart.”

“Of course you do. You deserve the best of everything.” And I’m holding him back from that, Annabeth thought.

“As do you.”

“You’re a far better man than Sloane.”

Nathan gave her a little crooked smile. “Well, that’s a rather low bar.” He sighed and ran his hand back through his hair. “Look. I’m not telling you Sloane is who you should be with. God knows, I hope you don’t choose him. But that isn’t for me to say. Only you can make that decision.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Whoever the right man is for you...all I know is, it isn’t me.”

She kept her expression as calm as possible. “Will you walk me to my room? I think I want to turn in for the night.”

“Of course.” Nathan offered his arm and walked with her up the stairs. “Annabeth,” he said as they reached her door. “Please be careful on your journey with Sloane. You are very dear to me.” He took her chin between his thumb and fingers and smiled down into her eyes. “And remember—I am ever at your disposal.” He gave her a little bow and walked away.

Annabeth watched him go, her heart aching. She went into her room and closed the door behind her. And there she let the tears escape, crying for a love she wished had been different.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

HOURS BEFORE DAWN, Sloane slipped through the garden. He stuck close to the shadows of the hedges and avoided the moonlit path. Skirting the terrace, he went around the corner of the house to the trellis. His father had sent him to the earl’s home often enough that Sloane knew how to escape Stonecliffe secretly.

He tugged at the trellis on the side of the house to see if it was still sound. It felt sturdy enough, and he could see the breaks in the ivy here and there where old boards had been replaced by new. He began to climb, silent and stealthy as a cat, finding toeholds and handholds in the latticework and the sturdy older vines.

From there it was an easy move to the narrow ledge that ran the length of the house. He stopped at the fourth window along the wall, which he had instructed Annabeth to slightly raise soon after they had arrived at Stonecliffe. He now pulled it upward and slipped inside.

Sloane glanced around the room. Annabeth clearly had not meant to fall asleep. A lamp was still on, turned down low. She was fully dressed and lying on top of her bedcovers. Sloane edged closer.

For a moment he could not resist standing there and looking at her unobserved. Her face was soft and utterly relaxed, her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her skin warmed to gold by the light. Her lips were slightly open, and he wanted, quite badly, to bend down and kiss her awake.

It would be the worst way to start. The next few days of being with her promised to be torture enough—to hear her voice, to see her smile, to be so close to her in the curricle that their sides almost touched. No matter that there would be layers of clothes between them—it would still send heat curling through him. Hell, just thinking of it already stirred him.

He probably should have taken Verity or even Nathan with them to provide a barrier between himself and Annabeth. The fact that it was true that the curricle seated only two and it would be peculiar to swoop in on the Haverstocks with an extra guest didn’t matter. Those were excuses, not reasons. The reason he hadn’t wanted the other two along was that he wanted to be alone with Annabeth, to have—even if it was only a pale shadow and only for a few days—the closeness they had once shared.