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fixedly at her all the way, for she refused to look at him. It was not just the pleasure of the night which had left her adrift, it was the closeness, the intimacy such as she had never experienced before.
Rosa had warned that women had a tendency to fall in love with the men they made love to, but there was more to it than that. Quite by chance, Rosa and Brand had found each other, like two parts of a broken whole. A fit so perfect that all other matches instantly became impossibly flawed.
You or no other.
Bey was her lost half?
He and no other?
She recognized it to be true. He was the lost part of herself suddenly found, rashly fitted for brief moments against raw edges, which now bled afresh.
Why not? her rebellious side suddenly demanded. Why could they not have the completion, the wholeness, that was every person's right?
Was it not worth striving for?
Determined now, she analyzed the practical problems.
Her independence. That was nothing. She knew he would respect that.
But what of her appearance of independent power? Heaven above, the Marquess of Rothgar could overshadow anyone, and in a way that would work to her advantage. She would gain from having him as mate, as equal half. He would certainly feel no need to inflate himself by lording over her.
So what of geography?
That was both their enemy and their friend. They would have to find ways to divide their time between north and south, between his responsibilities and hers. It would mean separations, but being alone on her estates would help her to retain authority there. A lesser, ever present husband would be a much greater threat.
Truly, though she hadn't thought of it before, a great husband would serve her better than a lowly one.
It was, perhaps, possible after all.
She slid a glance sideways, borne on fledgling wings of hope. And collided with despair.
Her problems might have melted away, but his had not. His reasons for not marrying were as strong as ever.
She looked out of the window again, at the increasingly busy road and more frequent villages and inns that told her they were close to London.
Close to parting.
He was resolved not to carry tainted blood into his ancient line. He had not contradicted her when she'd said he could not marry her if she was with child, and she knew how agonizingly difficult that would be for him.
He accepted all his responsibilities - even a rebellious countess who was only a distant connection by marriage. His love for his family ran deep, and he was wonderful with children. The thought of rejecting his own child must be impossibly painful, and yet he was prepared to do it to keep to his firm resolve.
She prayed with deep sincerity that she not conceive. It would be terrible for her, but intolerable for him. No wonder he'd been so emphatic that they could not make love again.
She decided at that moment that if she did conceive a child, he would never know. She would find a way to hide the pregnancy and then foster the child out to someone on her estates. She would be able to keep an eye on it, though it would break her heart not to be able to claim it, love it, as her own. For his sake, however, she would do it.
Tears stung, and she fought them down, but they welled again. Wealth, power, love, and two strong wills, and what did it bring them? Two lives lived in separate, bleak landscapes, when a garden of sunlight and laughter lay in sight, almost in reach.
She thought of the automaton, traveling swaddled like a babe only inches behind her. For a mad moment it seemed that their unborn - pray God never to be born - son lay in the boot of the coach, crying for release.
Her fighting spirit rebelled. There had to be a way!
What, though? A marriage without children? Though the idea pained her, she would do it. However, Elf's helpful leaflet on preventing pregnancy made it clear that there was no way to be completely safe, even if he always spilled his seed outside her. The aim was only to space out children to make life easier for the woman and her family.
Lud, but if medicine offered a way for her to be rendered infertile, she'd accept the knife as the price, even though she'd weep for the children - their children - who would not be born.
She risked another quick