Page 79 of Fortress of Snow

“It is late, and I won’t keep you awake any longer, especially since you were not feeling well earlier.”

“I am quite well now, as you see, so do not use my health as an excuse for leaving.” She leaned closer to him.

“Very well. Then I think I should leave for the reason that it is not seemly and does not set a good example for the servants for me to be alone with you in your room so late at night.”

“Ah. It is for the servants, and for my reputation, that you wish to go. But if we intend to marry, you will not have to worry about my reputation.”

“That, of course, is the reason I am here at Bristow Castle—to decide if we are to marry. And if we do not marry, you will marry someone else. Therefore, I must go.”

He rose quickly and headed to the door.

Lady Bristow caught up with him just as he opened the door, her long fingers closing around his arm. “Stay with me,” she whispered. “I shall make you glad you did.”

She pulled his head down and kissed him. He did not kiss her back this time.

“I’m sorry, my lady, but I must go.” He tried to be as gentle as possible, even tried to look as if he was tempted to stay. “You are so very beautiful,” he whispered, then leaned down, as if he was about to kiss her. Then he turned, pulling out of her grasp, and hastily stepped out the door.

Once in his room, he closed the door and slid the crossbar into place.

He rushed to his own window and looked out. The ship was now so far away he could just make it out on the dark sea.

He rubbed a hand down his cheek. What sort of predicament had he almost married into? Lady Bristow consorting with the French, possibly selling information to them, and mistreating her child ward? He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He had to find the answers to his questions, protect the innocent, bring the guilty to justice, and then make his escape from this fortress of snow and ice.

Twenty-Three

Berenger had known since the day before that he had to tell Lady Bristow he couldn’t marry her. He’d even quietly packed his things into his saddlebags. As for the lady, she seemed to be avoiding him.

When he had finally found himself alone with her earlier at the evening meal, he told her.

“I know this is not what we both had hoped, but I have come to the decision that I cannot marry you. Please forgive me, but I am sure you will have no trouble finding someone else to marry you and—”

“You would reject me like this? Am I to have no explanation for why you would give up everything you could ever want?”

He knew this wouldn’t be easy. “I am sorry. I will leave in the morning.”

“No explanation.” She stared at him, her expression tense, her eyes wild.

“I have made observations that convinced me that we are not suited for one another.”

She just stared. “After all that I said to you, how I was willing to give you everything.”

“Forgive me for causing you pain.”

“I do not forgive you.” Her face crumpled, but he no longer trusted the sincerity of her tears.

“I cannot believe this.”

She made a face of one who was crying, but he failed to see any tears.

“You will leave me, after I’ve fallen in love with you? I never thought you were so cruel.”

She leaned toward him, and he actually had to force himself not to take her in his arms. Was he so easily manipulated? He reminded himself of how insincere she could be, and the memory of her treatment of Juliana soon helped him to steel himself against her machinations.

“I am also taking Juliana with me,” he told her. “She needs a change, I think, and my sister, the Duchess of Strachleigh, is very fond of children.”

“Who do you think you are? You will do no such thing.”