a minute did I think that Tilda and I were in the slightest bit of danger.”
He shook his head. “That’s because you didn’t know about my father. Or the incident with Hudson.”
“Yet Hudson still serves you,” she ventured.
“Hudson knows not to disturb me, ever.”
“Hamish, you are not a monster. My cousin Felix is a monster. Your father was too. As far as I can see, your only real fault is that you have a history of being a very wicked rake. Why deny yourself the gift of children—?”
“God damn it, Olivia. I’m not just a wicked rake. Why can’t you see that my sins go far deeper?” Hamish snapped, frustrated that she couldn’t see what he knew to be true. “I’m the son of Torquil MacQueen. My blood is tainted. My mind is scarred. My soul has stains on it that can never be washed away. I’m a devil too. A sinner to my very bones. And I don’t want a male heir, indeed any children, because I won’t be responsible for passing on my bad blood.”
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and gentled his tone. “And I can’t be with you, Olivia, not the way you want me to be. The possibility I might hurt you, albeit accidentally, is very real. If we have sexual congress, and I fall asleep beside you, I would never forgive myself if I attacked you during one of my nightmares. I can never, ever sleep beside my wife. And no amount of whisky, or chamomile tea, or lavender slipped beneath my pillow, or nights filled with sexual pleasure will ever cure that.”
“But what of love?” Olivia slipped from her seat and sank to her knees before him. Caught one of his hands and kissed his battle-scarred knuckles. “Hamish MacQueen, I love you,” she said with such conviction, there could be no doubting the veracity of her declaration. “And I think you care for me too. Please, for both our sakes, let’s try to make this work. I believe that we can.”
Dear God, she was shattering what little heart he had left into a million pieces. Hamish shook his head sadly and cupped her beautiful face. “You shouldn’t love me, lass. And this will never work. I’m not the man of your dreams, or your knight in shining armor, no matter how much you wish it to be so. I can’t be reformed or fixed. I’m damaged. Broken beyond repair.” With his thumb, he wiped away the tear that slipped down her pale, smooth cheek. “I married you to protect you from your family’s predation and because I thought you could help my family in return. Yes, we desire each other and you say that you love me. But . . .” He inhaled a bracing breath, preparing himself to inflict a wound. “I do not love you and never will. That’s how heartless I really am.” It was a lie. But he needed to say it if it would help Olivia to see that the dreams she harbored were hopeless.
She shook her head, and he could see that she desperately wanted to deny what he’d said. “That’s not true. I can see how you feel whenever you look at me. When you kiss me. It’s why you keep pushing me away. Even your mother said—”
“Olivia, you need to stop this. Pleading with me will not help.” He urged her to rise, then slid a hand behind her neck. Dropped a kiss on her forehead and inhaled her sweet violet scent. “I think our relationship—such that it is—has run its course. Once Brodie and Isobel are wed, the day after tomorrow, I’ll return to London with Tilda. It will be easier to continue the search for her mother if I’m there. You can stay here or accompany me or go wherever you like, for that matter. Stay with your friends, or I have a number of properties in which you could establish a household. In Edinburgh and in London and in the country too. I . . . I think it’s best we live apart until the question of your inheritance is sorted out.”
Olivia pressed her hands against his chest. “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” she whispered, searching his gaze. “I thought that we were growing closer. Of course I’ll return to London with you and Tilda, but do you really want us to live separate lives once we’re there?”
Somehow, he hardened his heart. “Aye. I do.”
“I don’t want this. You’re making