She could tell him to leave. They’d already said everything last night, but her curiosity outweighed reason. She walked to the counter and set the teapot on the stove to boil. She busied herself preparing a cup of chamomile tea, waiting for him to break the uncomfortable silence. When he said nothing, she turned around to face him. “Okay, are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or do I have to guess?” He stared into her eyes. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered. She drew an unsteady breath. She never expected to see him looking so raw, so vulnerable. Luc had earned a well-deserved reputation as a tyrant in this town. Weakness was not a part of his make-up. Yet, here he was, sitting before her, looking like a broken man. “What do you mean?” His hand shook as he picked up his glass. He set it down without taking a drink. “Why are you marrying him? I know you don’t love him, Marisa.” She busied herself preparing the tea, stalling for time. How could she refute his words?
