"No."

There was a complicated pause where he stared down at her, but neither of them commented. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something, but she might have been choking on a tough piece of meat. She simply couldn't push out the facts, and she became even more determined to have Kit talk to him. That was the best idea. Why hadn't she realized it sooner?

"Well...ah...I should probably find Sophia," she mumbled like an idiot.

"You still haven't told me why you're at Kirkwood."

"No, I haven't."

"Are you going to?"

She gazed into his eyes, and for a few seconds she felt as if she was swallowed up in them. For once, he didn't shield his emotions. All his masks had been removed, and she could view every fond sentiment.

It was difficult to be so close to him, to peer up at him, and a wave of vertigo swept over her. In an instant, she was so dizzy she swayed from side to side. Quick as a snake, he gripped her elbow, guided her over to a chair, and eased her down.

He frowned. "You look as if you're about to swoon."

"I was a bit overwhelmed for a minute."

"It's perfectly understandable. I'm definitely overwhelming, but I never took you for the swooning type."

"You know women." She chuckled half-heartedly. "They suffer from many mysterious ailments that men never want to hear about."

"Are you ailing?"

"I wouldn't call it ailing precisely."

"What would you call it then? If I hadn't caught you, you'd be flat on the floor."

Her cheeks were so hot with embarrassment that she was amazed she didn't ignite. She was anxious to scoot out of the room and locate Kit so he could have the conversation she couldn't bear to have.

She moved as if she might rise, and he snapped, "Don't you dare get up."

"I really should find Sophia."

"Bugger, Sophia! Stay right where you are."

Like a trained pony, she sank down, watching silently as he grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her. He sat too, near enough that their legs were tangled together.

He glared at her, and again he seemed to be waiting for her to speak, and she was kicking herself for being such a coward.

Ultimately he said, "I'm giving Kirkwood to Kit as a wedding present. Over the years, he's done me so many favors, and I'm eager to do this one for him."

"I think it's wonderful."

He always surprised her. He could be so kind and generous, but there was an opposite side to any coin. He could also be cruel and callous.

"He lived in a place much like Kirkwood when he was a boy."

"I didn't know that."

"For some reason, his mother lost it after his father died. Kit was so young that he never understood why, but he always yearned to own the same sort of property."

"You made his dream come true."

"You get some of the credit."

"Why?"

"You suggested it when I visited you in Whitfield."

"Yes. Whitfield. I remember it well."

Her cheeks grew even hotter-if that was possible. They'd had a horrible fight that was too excruciating to recall.

"Have you ever regretted the answer you gave me that day?" he asked.

"Ah...ah..."

He jumped on her hesitation. "What does that mean? You do regret it? You don't?"

"I have no idea what I mean."

"I ran into Kit," he casually mentioned, "out in the barn when I was stabling my horse."

"Did you?" she replied just as casually, but her pulse was racing.

"He told me an interesting story about you."

Ah! He'd been aware of her predicament before she'd walked into the room. The rat! He'd merely been toying with her. How aggravating! How humiliating!

"Why don't you tell me what you need to tell me," he said. "Let's discover what happens."

She glanced down at her lap. "I can't figure out how."

"Just say it. I doubt the Earth will stop spinning on its axis."

She took a deep breath, took another, then spat out the words. "I'm increasing with your child."

He didn't comment, but was so still that if she hadn't been able to see his feet, she might have assumed he'd sneaked out. She peeked up, and he was studying her intently.

"I never wanted to be a father," he said.

"Perhaps you should have thought of that before you seduced me."

"Yes, perhaps I should have," he concurred, "and since it's occurred I guess I have to decide how I feel about it."

"How you...feel?" She sputtered with offense.

"Yes. I was previously willing to marry you, but you were mortally opposed. Now you're desperate to have me because you're in the family way. You didn't want me then, and maybe I don't want you now."

"Oh."

He stared, wearing her down with the full force of his personality. She never could fend off his potent magnetism. He was simply too grand, larger than life, a god among men.

Suddenly he grinned. "But I could probably be convinced to rescue you from your dire fate."

"Rescue me!" Her temper flared, and she leapt up. "Listen to me, you rude oaf. I would rather slit my wrists than be shackled to you."

"I realize that. You've been very clear."

"I want to wed for love and affection. I want to be cherished for once. I want a husband who worships me."

His grin widened. "You want to be worshipped?"

"Why are you grinning? Are you laughing at me? If you are, stop it! Have you any notion of how afraid I've been?"

"Why would you be afraid? I told you I'd always help you."

"We couldn't find you! No one knew where you were!"

"That put you in a fine mess, didn't it?"

He was still sitting, relaxed in his chair and looking as if he didn't have a concern in the world. She was standing so she towered over him for a change, but-with her shouting and scolding-she sounded like a shrew. Why didn't he stand up too? Why didn't he say things she might like to hear?

He never behaved as she needed him to behave!

"What am I to do?" she wailed.

"What would you like to do?"

"I'd like this to never have happened!"

"You don't want to have a baby?"

"I want to have it!"

"You don't want to have me with it? Is that the problem?"

"It's not that."

"What is it then?"

"I never expected I'd have a child, and now that I am it's all wrong."

"Why is it wrong?"

Without warning, she burst into tears. These days, she was so blasted emotional, and she couldn't control herself. "Because you could never love me, but if I don't marry you, I won't ever have a home or a family. How will I get by?"

"You can have me." He chuckled, appearing vexed, but pleased too. "Oh, Georgina, don't cry. I can't bear it."

Finally he stood, and he pulled her into his arms and snuggled her to his chest. She was too fatigued by events to push him away, and her body remembered how much she yearned to be in this exact spot.

"It will be all right, Georgina," he murmured.

"How will it?"

"I'll make it all right."

"But you're a confirmed bachelor."

"It won't kill me to wed."

"It won't kill you? See? You'll propose because you have to. It's not a good way for us to start our life together."

"No, it's not so what if we agree we're proceeding because we choose to and not because we have to?"

"You'd be an awful husband," she bluntly stated, and she was definitely blubbering.

"I might be awful," he mused, "or I might surprise you. I might turn out to be a perfect husband, and you'd be deliriously happy."

She cried even harder, hating it when he was funny, when he was sarcastic. It forced her to recollect how much she liked him, how interesting and appealing he could be.

"I'm sorry you've been so afraid," he said as he dried her tears.

"I don't know what's best."

"The answer is simple. You need a husband immediately, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm available."

"What would I do with you?"

"You'll figure it out. Wives always learn how to manage their husbands."

"I was planning to ask you for money so I could support myself."

"Yes, Kit informed me of how crazed you were being, but I'm not about to provide any financial assistance. Not if you intend to remain single and unwed. You'll have to attach yourself to me to get any of my help. It seems I have a price and that price is marriage."

"You don't love me," she muttered.

He sighed with frustration. "Why do you keep saying that? You made the same complaint that afternoon in Whitfield, but you're wrong." He took her hand in his and linked their fingers. "I love you, Georgina Fogarty. I love you so much I'm dying with it."

She shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Say you love me too," he urged. "You used to, and it hasn't been that long ago. You can't have lost all your fondness in such a short period. Some of it has to still linger."

"It might," she grudgingly admitted.

"Then if there's a flicker, you have to give me a chance to fan it into a raging inferno."