of him?” She should have been prepared for this question.
“Why do you not go to him?”
“God, no.” Tremors swept Marguerite at even the mention of . . . . No, it was unthinkable.
“Is he already wed?” Tristan’s voice turned cold, losing all trace of that enveloping warmth.
“No, but it is not possible.” Her mind froze when she even considered the possibility. Some things could not be discussed.
“Why?”
“It is really none of your concern.” His iciness had made it easier to turn the question aside. “Are you ever going to call for my hack and give me the fare?”
“You asked for my help. That makes it my concern. If he doesn’t wish to wed you, just tell me who he is and I am sure I can persuade him to a different conclusion.” She had always considered him a diplomat not a fighter, but now the warrior shone through. Even in her misery, she could not mistake his magnificence.
“No,” she forced the word out.
Tristan did not answer. He tapped his fingers on the table, fingers she had felt against her skin.
“I brought this upon myself and I will take full responsibility. Beyond that, I do not wish to talk of it,” she said. He tapped again. She remembered the whisper of his thumb against her wrist. Did she owe him anything? “I never meant to – he is not a husband I would ever choose.”
Tristan let his gaze drop to her belly. Even though it was still flat, Marguerite felt as if it grew beneath his gaze. There was no jest in him now.
“I think the time for choice has passed. I was wrong to offer you two choices. It is clear that the best resort is to return you to your child’s father. No man would refuse, and if he attempted to –”
“No.”
“Has he then refused to wed you?”
“No, he does not know.”
“You haven’t told him?”
“No, and I have no intention of doing so. If you do not call Winters, I will walk away now.” She turned, feeling the need to flee. She did not know how much more she could take.
“Stop.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“That is my line.”
“I am too tired to play with words.” Soon she would cry. She felt the tears welling behind her eyes. It was unbearable that this mocking man should witness her defeat. “Coming here was a mistake. I just did not know where else to turn.”
She lifted her head and their glances met. Something swirled and shifted in his eyes. He held out his hand.
“Please, come sit by the fire again, and I will attempt to discuss this more rationally. You look pale and chilled.” His voice softened again, beckoning her, beguiling her. “I will call a maid to fetch you something to eat. Surely you don’t mean to head back without taking some refreshment? You look in need of sustenance. Stay. You have provided far more entertainment this night than I expect from any woman.”
Blast him. She blinked rapidly. Could he not he remain serious for even a moment? She turned again to leave. She would not be an amusement, not when her whole life swung in the balance.
“I am sorry.” He switched again, sounding so sincere. “I’ve spoilt things again. Come, Marguerite. Come and sit by the fire and I promise to behave myself. Come and tell me your secrets and perhaps you can persuade me to open my purse a little farther. I did promise you my help, and despite my foolishness, I am a man of honor. Come and persuade me.”
She wavered.
“I see the uncertainty in your eyes. Come, sit. What harm can there be in trying a honeyed tongue? You’ve come this far. Will you concede defeat so easily? Perhaps you may yet convince me to open my purse.”
Tristan watched her pause. She trailed her slender fingers over the door handle. He sensed her indecision. What further lure could he provide? “Don’t you want to eat before heading back to the coaching inn? I can’t imagine their fare can match mine? And watching a woman eat always puts me in a good mood, a generous mood.”
“It is too late for another coach to depart.” Her words were barely a whisper as she stepped towards the chair.
Victory. Tristan resisted the urge to smile. She was sniffing the bait, but not yet been trapped. “What can I have fetched to tempt you? There should still be some venison from dinner.”
She paled.
“Ah, , what about toast soldiers and a nice pot of tea?”