came to stand directly in front of him, her skirts brushing against his knees. He did not look up, his gaze locked on her body, staring through it, at the tale he told. At something else.
“King,” she whispered, and he met her gaze, the sadness in his eyes overwhelming her. Without hesitation, she put one hand to his dark hair, loving the feel of it, silk between her fingers. “What has happened?”
He closed his eyes at the question, then did the unthinkable, putting his hands to her waist and pulling her closer, pressing his face into her midriff and inhaling, holding her as tight to him as he could.
Her free hand joined the first, fingers threading through his hair, holding him as well, wanting him, wanting to hear everything he thought, wanting to tell him everything she felt.
She should tell him she wanted to leave.
Except here, in this moment, with his hands on her and his breath against her, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay forever.
“King,” she whispered.
He shook his head at his name. “I want you quite desperately, Sophie.”
Her heart stopped at the words. “You do?”
He looked up at her, handsome and devastating. “I do,” he said. “I’ve wanted you from the start, you know. From the moment I nearly hit you in the head with a boot.”
She smiled, small and sad. “No, you didn’t.”
He tilted his head. “Maybe not just then. But definitely by the time I found you drinking with Warnick in the stables.”
“In your footman’s livery?”
“Ah,” he said. “So you admit he is my footman.”
“Never.” She laughed, loving the feel of him. Loving the look of him.
Loving him.
She took a deep breath. “King, what—”
“She didn’t love me,” he said softly.
Her brow furrowed. “Who?”
“Lorna. She wanted the title and nothing else.”
She couldn’t believe it, not after the way he’d spoken about her. “How do you know that?”
“Because I do.” He released her and stood putting distance between them. “The line ends with me,” he whispered, and she ached at the words even as he continued. “It was so much more than revenge. It was penance. I swore off marriage because I couldn’t bear the thought of betraying the girl I’d once loved.” Sophie ached at the words, tears threatening as he continued, devastating betrayal in his tone. “But now . . . she wanted to marry me for money. For title. For security. She lied to me.”
He turned away from Sophie, making his way to the labyrinth’s path. He turned back before he entered the maze and looked at her for a long while, anger and frustration and disappointment in his gaze. “I thought she was the only person who had ever wanted me for me. And now I know the truth. She wanted me for my title and my fortune. Not for me. There’s never been anyone who wanted me.”
Sophie did not hesitate, a desperate need for him to hear the truth propelling her closer to him. “That’s not true.” She wanted him. Desperately.
He understood, his gaze turning predatorial. He, the hunter. She, the prey. And then he said, “I can’t love you.”
A single tear slipped down her cheek as she nodded. “I know.”
“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to stay here. I want to keep you here, at the center of this labyrinth. Even though it’s the worst possible thing I can think to do to you.”
“I don’t think I can survive your betrayal.”
He came to her then, quick and purposeful, lifting her face to his, staring deep into her eyes. “I don’t want you to go,” he said. “I want you to stay.”
“And what happens if I do? What is my life if I stay?” Her throat ached with the words. Because she knew the answer. She knew he’d never be able to give her what she wanted. What she’d always wanted and somehow had never realized she wanted.
He would never love her. He would never marry her. They would never have children, despite her ability to see them quite clearly, little dark-haired cherubs, with his beautiful green eyes and dimples that showed when they smiled.
He didn’t ask her what she saw. What she wanted. He already knew. “Sophie . . .” he started, and she heard the knowledge. Heard the denial. She didn’t want to hear the words.
Instead, she reached for him, her fingers trailing down his cheek, drawing him closer to her. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, so close to his lips that it felt as though he