The Dangerous Love of a Rogue. Jane Lark

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СКАЧАТЬ not interested in other women anyway. Not any more. Mary consumed him, mentally and physically. It was Mary he needed, no-one else.

      His mouth dried, filling with a bitter taste, and it was not from last night’s excess of drink, it was from fear he’d fail and lose her.

      On his ride he stretched out his mare, hurtling across the open meadow of Green Park, leaning low, hugging his body to the horse, pushing his bodyweight into his heels, and keeping balance with his shins, and his thighs, riding like a mad man.

      He felt close to insanity – desperate.

      Still, if she was easily caught he’d be bored of her in weeks. No, her determination to withstand him only bore out his belief that she was the woman for him.

      She had strength of character, and that was to be admired.

      Returning home he rewrote the letter his friends had constructed in their cups last night, and as he reached its end found his own words flowing from the quill, a diatribe falling from his mind onto the paper as the words had last night when they’d danced. He blotted the words briskly then folded the paper before he lost the courage to include his own words and sealed it with wax.

      He found a young lad he trusted in the street and sent the boy off to deliver it.

      * * *

      “Miss Marlow.”

      Mary sat alone in the family drawing room. She looked up at the butler who carried a silver tray.

      “A letter.”

      When the butler bowed to offer it, Mary saw Drew’s handwriting and her wicked heart flooded with joy.

      Her mother and father, with John and Kate, had taken all the children on an outing to the park. Mary had declined accompanying them and bidden Mr Finch to say no one was at home if anyone called. She was not in a mood to entertain, or be social.

      Images and memories of Lord Framlington kept spinning in her head.

      Her heartbeat thumped when she took the letter.

      She had a foolish heart.

      When Finch had left she opened it, slipping her feet from her shoes and curling her legs sideways on the sofa.

      It began with another poem, commending the extreme good nature of her soul, and then enthusing on her charm, her eloquence.

      She smiled.

      Lord Brooke had been telling tales.

      The following paragraphs spoke of commitment, of life long happiness. They were only words. They meant little in reality.

      But the last paragraph… The strokes of Drew’s writing seemed somehow sharper, and the words on the page lifted out with feeling.

       My Mary, you are you know, mine. You always will be, accept me or not. You and I are meant to be one, half to become whole. Put us together Mary, darling, make us one, a single being. I want you. I cannot say I love you, not yet, I do not even know what on earth love is, but I do know that I cannot sleep for thinking of you, or avoid dreaming of you. I think of you and I lose my breath, I see you and my heart begins to pound, I hear you and my spirit wants to sing. I am yours, Mary. Be mine. I cannot simply walk away. I will not.

       Think of the possibilities. If this is love? If this is our only chance? If we are meant to be, would you throw that away? Throw me away?

       Do not! Let us be.

       Yours truly,

       D

      The words were spoken as though he stood with her and read them.

      She barely knew him and yet she felt as if she’d known him all her life. She had not been drawn to any other man – perhaps it was true, he was meant for her.

      A sigh slipped past her lips. If she let him go he’d marry someone else. He needed an heiress. He could not wait forever.

      Her gaze drifted to the window. Birdsong permeated the glass. She would not marry unless someone else made her heart race as he did. If no one ever did, she would definitely never marry. She sighed again. She had thought that last night, and yet she had not thought about what he would do… She may never marry but she’d be forced to watch him with his wife.

      Oh, why did her heart have to fall for someone forbidden?

      He was mystery. Challenge. There was so much to learn about him.

      Her heart was caught up with him and she did not know how to break free. I don’t want to be free. I want to be his wife – to understand the complexity in his eyes.

      She didn’t see a bad man in his eyes.

      Was that a dreadful admission?

      John would be furious if she chose Drew. Her father and mother would be disappointed. But they would not disown her. They’d forgive her, because they loved her.

      She folded the letter and took it to her room. There, she searched out the paper on which he’d written his address. Then she sat at her writing desk.

      Her quill hovered over the paper. She could not make promises yet. She was afraid to do what her heart wished and say yes.

      Could she have her family and Lord Framlington?

      Could she trust him to look after her and love her?

      How could she bear to hurt her family?

      Yet how could she bear it if Drew turned to someone else?

      Make me believe, if you wish. she began to write. You make us be. Prove that I may trust your words. Prove that you will love me and not hurt me.

      She wrote no more. She could not think of anything else to say. His ego was too big to offer him compliments. He’d only bask in them.

      Folding the letter she reached for wax, and melted a little to seal it. She smiled when she rose from the desk.

      Was she really doing this?

      It appeared so.

      Her feet carried her downstairs, the letter fluttering in her fingers to dry the wax.

      When Mary reached the hall, avoiding Finch, and any unwanted questions, she carried on into the servants’ stairwell, heading for the stables.

      There she found one of the boys who fed the horses and cleaned the stalls, gave him a half-penny and sent him to deliver the letter.

      Less than an hour later, the boy burst into her private sitting room with a broad grin, waving a reply in his grubby hand. “The gent sent this back, Miss. I brought it up meself ’cause he said it was a secret between you and me. I’ve snuck through the house. No one saw me, Miss.”

       Fortunately.

      Mary rose and took СКАЧАТЬ