“Why wouldn’t you answer me last night?”

“Probably for the same reason you never answer me,” she replied.

“What are you talking about?”

She gave him a sad smile. “Come now, Vincent, obtuseness doesn’t become you. Anytime I ever begin to mention marriage in your presence, you pounce on another subject so swiftly, I don’t even have time to blink. Very well, so marriage is a subject we will never discuss. And now that I’ve come to realize that, it is rather obvious, isn’t it, why my door will henceforth remain locked?”

He frowned. He also started to approach her. She quickly held up a hand, even took several steps back.

Letting him touch her was out of the question, not because it was out in the open now, that he had no intention of marrying her, but because she was too malleable in his arms. But oh God, why didn’t the knowledge she now possessed stop her from wanting him? She should despise him—again. She shouldn’t be wishing fervently that he would deny it and assure her that yes, of course they would marry.

“You don’t really want to do this to us, Larissa, do you?”

His tactics were on the rise, and he had many that he knew would work, including that husky tone he’d just used. How was she going to survive this?

“I don’t, but you do. Whether we continue as we were, or we say good-bye today, is entirely up to you. I can only follow my heart.”

“Your heart isn’t telling you to shut me out.”

No, it wasn’t. She hadn’t realized she had fallen so deeply in love with him. She had begun this only thinking it would be nice to marry him. She hadn’t thought why it would be so nice. But all the little things she knew about him had gotten to her, first to her compassion, then into her heart. The overwhelming attraction she felt for him was merely a side benefit—or a curse.

She tried to point out what he seemed to be missing. “Temptation is a lure of the forbidden. By all that’s right, you are forbidden to me. Preference has no bearing. If it were just me, if I had no others that I am responsible for, then it might not matter so much. But I have a young brother to raise now—on my own. And he will be taught by example, just as my father would have taught him, the correct path.”

“Your father wouldn’t have been a good— Never mind.” He cut himself off.

He raked a hand through his black mane. His frustration was evident and mounting. Or was it anger? It was hard to tell with him, when he so rarely showed any emotion—other than passion.