Название: The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
Автор: Jane Lark
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
isbn: 9780007594665
isbn:
His gaze cut through the darkness, meeting hers, his heavy breaths echoing against the glass. “Mary.” His fingers unclenched, letting her dress fall.
But when she would have stepped back his hands slipped to cup her buttocks, and pulled her closer still.
A column within his trousers pressed against her stomach through their layers of clothing. “See what you do to me.”
Her grip on his shoulders urged him away. “Let me go.”
“You have no need to be afraid of me.” His hands slid back to her waist then fell as he stepped back.
Her fingers shaking, Mary righted her bodice and lifted her short sleeves, unable to look at him.
“I would not hurt you.” His voice hit a hard tone.
Fear and wariness slashing at her foolish soul she met his gaze. What if her instinct had been wrong? She had good cause not to trust him. It was not only John who thought ill of him, he was an outcast, ignored by most.
“For God sake, Mary.” His pitch lifted to anger.
Her chin titled defiantly. She had to stop this before it became too late to turn back. “I will not meet you again.”
“I did not hurt you.” Irritation brimmed in his voice.
“I know you did not.” She stepped back – away. This was the end. “I did not say you did, but I cannot… I will not meet you again. I won’t hurt my family. I cannot keep betraying their trust.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“I came to tell you… I would not—”
“You took your time saying no. If that was your intent. You came to be made love to…” he growled.
Mary held up a hand, to ward him off. “Love is not involved in this. I may be innocent, but I am no fool either, Lord Framlington. You may convince me you are attracted to me but you will not persuade me this has anything to do with love.” At least not on your part.
That was her downfall. She’d let him take liberties because she did love him.
* * *
Silver moonlight caught in Mary’s eyes.
Pain shone there.
He’d said he would not hurt her, but he had. That cut at him. He thought of Caro… and himself as a child…The only time when perhaps he could compare his feelings to understand Mary’s. He never wished to hurt Mary.
Damn, he was unused to women with a heart – a woman who knew love. A woman who’d been surrounded by it her entire life.
His error glared him in the face. He should not have wooed her with passion. It was not her body he had to persuade – it was her heart. She wanted to be loved. Of course she did.
“Andrew,” he stated bluntly.
Why had he given her his full name?
Her chin tilted higher, reminding him of her brother’s stubborn countenance.
How the hell do I make her love me?
“What?” Her tone rang sharp and challenging.
She did not even know his name. He’d wooed her physically and not even let her in so far as to tell her his name.
His voice dipped to a calmer conciliatory pitch. “My name is Andrew, although most people call me Drew.”
“Oh.” She looked confused. Perhaps she also realised how many favours she’d allowed him without even knowing his name.
“Say it.” His voice held the undercurrent of the desperation humming in his blood. He could not let her walk away. Everything hung on him winning her. The idea had fermented in his head for so long, he could not choose to change his path, not now. He could not bear to be with anyone but her.
She took a breath. “Andrew.”
A fist gripped hard and firm in his gut.
“Or Drew… That suits you more, it is more dangerous.”
“You deem me dangerous… I’m not the devil, Mary, just a man. A man looking for a wife, you, and once we are wed, every morning when you wake, you will say my name; and when we retire, I’ll make love to you, slowly and thoroughly so you know it is not a marriage solely for money.”
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. But he knew he could not progress. He needed to regroup, and think of a new strategy. To make her love him?
Damn. He knew nothing about love.
But an odd sensation seared in his chest.
If she came to love him, he’d rejoice. It was what he wanted – a faithful, committed wife. He had no idea how Mary would fare once they were wed, but surely if she loved him it could not go awry. “I want you, Mary. If you need to be loved, I will love you, I swear it. I’m half in love with you already.” It was surely true, the emotions inside him were a turmoil of desperation, need and hope.
Her eyes turned cold. “Or half in love with my dowry…”
Her stubborn insistence that he desired her money made him angry. “You were right earlier, you don’t know me. Money is not all to me.” He picked up her gloves and thrust them at her.
She took them, then turned.
But he caught her elbow before she could leave
“I have to go. I am promised for the next dance.”
“Next time—”
“There will be no next time!” Her elbow slipped from his grip, and then she was gone, her ivory clad figure disappearing into darkness.
Bloody hell, he’d lost more ground than he’d gained tonight. If she would no longer come to him then how the hell was he to progress? He could not approach her, that would make her family suspicious. They would remove her from town.
Striding from the garden he didn’t bother heading back to the ball, instead he headed to his club. He needed to drink, and think.
After breaking her fast, Mary retired to the drawing room with her mother, her sister-in-law Kate and her sisters, while the boys were at lessons upstairs. She chose to sit on a sofa in the sunshine, beside her younger sisters, Helen and Jennifer, who were busy working on embroidery samplers. Mary guided them.
“Excuse me, Your Grace.”
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