“I did. I was overset. No, I was overcome.” She tried to smile, and he could see that she was embarrassed.
“It’s all right,” he started to say.
“No,” she blurted out, “it’s not, really. I mean, it will be, but—” She blinked like a cornered rabbit, then said, “I was so tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.”
“It’s understandable.”
She stared for a long moment, then said, “I don’t know what came over me.”
“I don’t either,” he admitted, “but I’m glad it did.”
She did not speak for several seconds. “You have to marry me now.”
“I had been planning to ask,” he reminded her.
“I know”—she picked at the hem of her bedsheet—“but no one likes to be forced.”
He reached out and grasped her hand. “I know.”
“I—”
“You were forced,” he said vehemently. “It is not fair, and if you wish to withdraw—”
“No!” She drew back, looking surprised by her outburst. “That is to say, no, I don’t wish to withdraw. I can’t really.”
“You can’t,” he echoed, his voice dull.
“Well, no,” she said, eyes flashing with impatience. “Were you even listening today?”
“What I heard,” he said with what he hoped was adequate patience, “was a woman sacrificing herself.”
“And that’s not what you did?” she shot back. “When you went to your father and threatened to kill yourself?”
“You can’t compare the two. I caused this whole bloody mess. It is incumbent upon me to fix it.”
“You’re angry because you’ve been usurped?”
“No! For the love of—” He raked his hand through his hair. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“I would not dream of it. You’re doing quite a job of it on your own.”
“You should not have come to the White Hart,” he said in a very low voice.
“I’m not even going to dignify that with a reply.”
“You did not know what sort of dangers awaited you.”
She snorted. “Apparently neither did you!”
“My God, woman, must you be so stubborn? Don’t you understand? I cannot protect you!”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I am to be your husband,” he said, each word slicing his throat on the way to his lips. “It is my duty.”
Her teeth were clenched so tightly that her chin was shaking. “Do you know,” she ground out, “that since this afternoon, no one—not you, not your father, not even my cousin—has thanked me?”
Hugh’s eyes flew to hers.
“No, don’t say it now,” she snapped. “Do you think I could possibly believe you? I went to the inn because I was so scared, because you and Daniel had painted a picture of a madman, and all I could think was that he was going to hurt you—”
“But—”
“Don’t say that he would never hurt you. That man is stark raving mad. He would cut off your arm as long as he was assured you could still sire children.”
Hugh blanched. He knew it was true, but he hated that she even had to think about it. “Sarah, I—”
“No.” She jabbed her index finger toward him. “This is my turn. I’m speaking. You’re being quiet.”
“Forgive me,” he said, so softly the words were but a whisper on his lips.
“No,” she said, shaking her head as if she’d just seen a ghost. “You don’t get to be nice now. You can’t beg my forgiveness and expect me to . . . to . . .” Her throat convulsed with a choking sob. “Do you understand what you’ve put me through? In one single day?”
The tears were running freely down her cheeks, and it took all of Hugh’s strength not to lean forward and kiss them away. He wanted to beg her not to cry, to apologize for this moment, and for the future, because he knew it would happen again. He could devote his life to one of her smiles, but at some point he would fail, and he would make her cry again, and it would wreck him.
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips. “Please don’t cry,” he begged.
“I’m not,” she gasped, swiping away her tears with her sleeve.
“Sarah . . .”
“I’m not crying!” she sobbed.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he sat beside her on the bed, and he held her and stroked her hair, and murmured nonsensical sounds of comfort until she sagged next to him, utterly spent.
“I can’t imagine what you think of me,” she finally whispered.
“I think,” he said with every ounce of his soul, “that you are magnificent.”
And that he did not deserve her.
She had come and saved the day; she had bloody well done what he and Daniel had not managed in nearly four years, and she’d done it while Hugh had been tied to a damned bed. Perhaps not at the exact moment of her triumph, but if he’d been freed, it was only because she had been the one to do it.
She had saved him. And while he understood that the circumstances of this particular situation were unique, it clawed at him that he would never be able to protect her as a husband was meant to protect his wife.
This was where any man worth his salt would step aside and allow her to marry someone else, someone better.
Someone whole.
Except that any man worth his salt wouldn’t have been in this situation to begin with. Hugh had caused this debacle. He had been the one to get drunk and challenge an innocent man to a duel. He was the one with a bat-crazy father who required a threat of suicide to get him to leave Daniel alone. But Sarah was the one who was paying the price. And Hugh—even if he was that man worth his salt—couldn’t possibly step aside. Because to do so would be to put Daniel in peril. And Sarah would be mortified.