Papa didn’t flinch as I spoke my fiancé’s name. In fact, his eyes narrowed.
I lifted my chin. “How could you arrange a marriage without even telling me? You had no right.”
The grooves around his mouth deepened. His thick eyebrows lowered over his eyes. “I had every right. I am your father.”
“I will never marry without love. I would rather—” What? If he turned me out of the house, I wouldn’t have the income to support Emily. I wouldn’t be the only woman left destitute by my decision.
Papa’s face darkened. “Think hard before you complete that sentence, young lady.”
I turned away. I didn’t trust myself to look at him any longer without breaking into tears. “The engagement is off,” I said, my voice emotionless and even.
“The wedding is set for Monday.”
My knees turned to water. I groped for the wall for support. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
I’d never heard two more forbidding words in my life.
Chin trembling, I turned to face him. “And what will you do when I refuse to marry him?”
He drew himself up. “You will not disgrace your family. I gave you plenty of warning, plenty of time to accept one of the many proposals aimed your way.”
Heat enveloped my cheeks at the reminder. I hadn’t meant to encourage so many men for no reason. I…hadn’t found the right man for me. Not a man like Warren, who sparred with me verbally as well as physically. Who, despite his occasional boorish ways, respected me and my wishes. Who had seen me at my worst and still desired me.
Heaven help me, but I was in irrevocably in love. What if he never felt the same?
I swallowed. “You said you wanted to arrange the marriage before Daisy’s come out. She’s already married.” Relief washed through me, dampening the panic that quickened my heart. “It’s not needed now—”
“It’s too late,” Papa said. His voice was final. “I’ve already made the arrangements. We signed the agreement.”
He caught my gaze as my heart plummeted into the soles of my shoes.
“You will be married on Monday.”
“You can’t force me to do something I don’t want to do.” I spat the words at him and ran from the room.
The problem was, I did want to marry Warren. Now that he’d proven beyond all shadow of a doubt that he respected my wishes, I wanted him more than ever. But I wanted love, too. Respect wasn’t enough. My chest ached. I had to know. Did he feel the same about love as he had when we’d met?
I raced through the house to my room. There, at the writing desk, I yanked open the drawer to find a slip of paper, ink, and a pen. The pen was dull. I sharpened it with impatient strokes.
When I laid the tip to the paper, too many sentences sprung to mind.
We’re set to be married in two days.
No, he knew that already.
Do you love me?
What if he said no—or worse, didn’t answer at all? I pressed the tip of my pen too aggressively on the period. Ink soaked into the page. I thrust everything away from me. My eyes blurred with tears.
I couldn’t trust my thoughts, my feelings, to a mere letter. Better to let the engagement dissolve and give me more time. I should never have allowed myself to believe I could trick him into falling in love during a carriage ride.
I swiped the tears from my cheeks, but more continued to fall. What if he found someone else? What if he grew to love her instead of me? I didn’t know what to do.
Behind me, Emily tsked. “Miss Rose, look at the mess you’ve made.”
When she rounded the chair with a cloth to soak up the spilled ink, she stopped short. She dropped it and wrapped her arm around my shoulders. Although she hadn’t regained her full color, she looked much improved from outside on the steps.
“What’s wrong?”
I pressed my lips together, but the truth spilled out anyway. “Warren’s agreed to call off the wedding.”
She squeezed my shoulders. “I don’t understand. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what I want anymore.” I sniffed. “No, that’s not true. I want him to love me as much as I love him.”
“Are you certain he doesn’t? Have you asked?”
“No, but…” I swallowed. My mouth tasted salty from tears. “I told him I wouldn’t marry for anything less than love. Why would he call off the wedding if he loved me?”
Emily turned my face toward her in order to dab at my cheeks with a handkerchief. Her eyes sparkled with a fierceness that stole my breath. “He hasn’t called off the wedding yet. I wouldn’t give up hope.” When she dried my cheeks, she smiled. “Come now, why don’t you lie down? It’ll help you feel better.”
I tried to smile, but it felt weak. “I should be saying the same to you.”
“Me? I’m in the pink of health.”
She looked it, too. Much more than she had when she’d come in.
With a fluttery motion of her hand, she shooed me off the chair. “Go on, now. Have a rest. I’ll clean this up for you. When you wake, everything will seem better.”
I knew better than to believe such false placations, but I let her herd me toward the bed nevertheless. Come Monday, I would know for sure.
Chapter Twenty-Five
My head throbbed as supper with the newlyweds came to a close. Mama had continued her inexhaustible barrage of questions, Daisy had been her usual enthusiastic self, and Papa had eaten in stony silence. He hadn’t so much as glanced at me.
That silence spoke for itself. This is what you’ll have to look forward to if you disgrace our family.
I wouldn’t disgrace the family. Warren had offered me a way out. If he didn’t love me, I had to take it.
Then what? Would I find someone else to marry? My stomach churned at the thought. I didn’t want anyone else. Heaven help me, but I wanted a stubborn, argumentative, arrogant lord. I wanted Warren.
Could I accept him if he didn’t love me back? It wouldn’t be what I wanted, but at least I’d have him.
Emily cleared her throat from the doorway. She spread her skirts in a curtsey and in her meekest tone of voice said, “If it pleases the family to move into the blue parlor, I’ve set out tea, coffee, and seedcake for you to enjoy while you learn more about the new addition to the family.”
Mama stood with a grin. “What a splendid idea. Come, dear. Do say you’ll join us.”
Although Papa grumbled, he never disobeyed such a direct request from Mama. He rubbed at his eyes and stood. Daisy, hand in hand with her new husband, had already danced out the door. My head throbbed with renewed vigor at the thought of joining them, even if no one was paying me any mind.
Emily stepped in my path as I dragged my heels. “Miss Rose, you don’t seem at all well. Perhaps you should return to your room before you grow ill.”
I glanced over her shoulder toward Mama, but I needn’t have worried about her permission. She sailed through the door after her married daughter without sparing a thought for me. Papa followed, his demeanor frosty.
Without the force of his displeasure holding me up, my shoulders slumped. “Thank you, Emily. I didn’t know how I would endure more of Mama’s questions. She’s asked him everything under the sun at least twice already.”
Slipping her arm around my shoulders, Emily guided me through the doorway. “She means well, and he doesn’t seem to mind.”
I sighed. “He’s probably happy that he’s gotten a better reception with her than with me.” My head throbbed and I wondered if I ought to apologize. Now didn’t seem the time. Perhaps I’d find a moment alone with him later in the week, even if he had convinced my sister to leave without the courtesy of a note as to her intentions.
As we neared the front entrance, Emily dropped her arm and hung back. “You go up without me and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right after you.” Her smile was contagious as she turned to go down the hall. Maybe she’d bring me some tea and seedc
ake, too.
Bolstered by the thought, I hurried toward the front stairwell, only to stop short. At this late hour, most of the servants had gone to bed. Apparently, they’d neglected to pick up…a horseshoe? Frowning, I crouched to touch it, just to prove to myself that it was real. The heavy iron was cool in my hand.
Another two rested on the stairwell, a few steps in between them. When I collected those, I noticed another at the top, leading to the next floor. I looped them over my wrists as I went, following the trail of horseshoes all the way to my bedroom door. Cautiously, I opened it, peeking inside.
A candle burned on the table next to my bed, casting a warm, orange glow over the room. Perched on the edge of the bed, wearing nothing but his breeches and boots, was Warren. His maroon coat hung over the back of the chair nestled against the writing desk. Presumably the rest of his clothes fit beneath it. He fiddled with a horseshoe, passing it from one hand to the other.
For a moment, I lost my voice. Was I hallucinating?
My broad mattress with its drawn canopy usually dwarfed the room, since the only other pieces of furniture—the wardrobe, vanity, writing desk, and nightstands—lined the perimeter. With Warren’s broad shoulders devouring the space, the bed seemed much smaller. As did the room. His hair flirted with the top of his jaw.
The imprudence of him being here jolted through me. I shut the door with a bang and pressed my back against it. “What are you doing here?”
He jumped to his feet, making the room seem even smaller. The air charged with possibility. He looked hesitant. “I had to see you.”
It wasn’t the worst thing to spout from his lips. My pulse fluttered in my throat as I tried to formulate a response. I arranged the horseshoes on my writing desk to buy myself time. I couldn’t help but sneak glances at his muscular shoulders, smooth skin, and golden mat of chest hair.
“Did you misplace your clothes along the way?”
He grinned. Crossing the room in two strides, he laid the horseshoe he held atop the others. His hand brushed mine. Even through my glove, the touch made me burn. Why was he here?
In a soft voice, he said, “I thought we should go back to the night we met and start over.”
His thumb traced a slow circle over the back of my hand. Slowly, I raised my gaze to his. His eyes were rapt on the attention he lavished to my glove. The muted sensation sent tingles rippling from that spot.
My voice was hoarse when I managed to say, “You threw me over your shoulder and locked me in the withdrawing room.”
“I promise not to do that this time.”
I smirked. “I should hope not. But if you’ll recall, our time in the library wasn’t the friendliest, either.”
He shifted, positioning his body until he could brace both hands on the desk around me. His body bracketed mine, radiating a heat answered between my legs. My breasts started to ache, begging me to press up against him. Only inches away from my mouth, he craned his neck down. His gaze latched onto my lips.
“To the contrary, my dear. I think it was when we first realized we were meant for each other.”
I scoffed, even as my chest heated with his admission.
He raked his gaze over me, igniting a slow burn everywhere he lingered. “Your hair was wild.” He plucked the pins from my head, letting them fall onto the writing desk. They plinked where they struck the horseshoes. “Your dress was wet, clinging to your every curve.”
“Don’t you dare dump the washbasin on me.”
He chuckled, a low sound that pinched my gut.
With the backs of his fingers, he stroked my cheek. “You looked wild, an angel fallen to earth.”
“You asked me to kiss you.”
“I did.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. He licked his lower lip.
As I waited for him to ask me again, my entire body burned with anticipation.
Instead, he confessed, “If love is a construct meant to manipulate people, then you can lead me wherever you want. I’m yours, body and soul.”
My breath hitched. I clutched the edge of the desk to keep from reaching for him. “Are you…are you telling me that you love me?”
“I am.” His chest expanded with his deep breath. He dropped his hands, clenching and relaxing them at his sides. “You are so much a part of me that I can’t fall asleep or wake up without thinking of you. I cherish your smile more than I cherish my next breath. Without you, I feel as though I’m fumbling in the dark. I love you, Rose. Without a shadow of a doubt.”
My knees weakened. I fought the urge to fling myself into his arms. “You’ve kissed women before.” A smile flirted with my lips, but I held it at bay.
His expression turned guarded. “I have…”
I grinned. “Then one more kiss shouldn’t harm your reputation.”
He cupped my face. “Rose, the only reputation I want to have is as the fortunate soul you chose for your husband. Will you have me?”
“If you love me, yes. That’s all I ever wanted.”
“I do love you. Let me prove it to you.” As I melded my mouth to his, he encircled me with his arms and urged me closer. I wrapped my arms around his neck.
I pressed against him chest to chest, hip to hip. Our kiss turned urgent. His hands roved down my back to my rear, squeezing as he fitted me against him. The evidence of his arousal stirred against me. I rubbed against him, shamelessly seeking the passion that flared to life between us every time we touched. That now-familiar ache blossomed between my thighs.
When I broke the kiss, gasping for air, he panted every bit as hard. He leaned his forehead against mine. “Does that mean you love me, too?”
“Yes.” I kissed him, light and swift. “More than you know.”
His lips stretched in a smile. “I doubt it’s half what I feel for you.”
“Is this a competition?” As he stared to trail his lips along my jaw to my neck, I leaned my head to the side to give him greater access. Breathless, I added, “You know I’ll win.”
“By the end of the day, we’ll both have won.”
He pulled away. In a smooth movement, he dipped and slid his hand beneath my knees. He hoisted me into his arms and turned to the bed.
As he laid me onto the soft coverlet, he kissed me soundly. He blanketed my body with his. The feel of him surrounding me made me burn with anticipation. I threaded my fingers through his hair.
I turned my head, gasping for air. “If you love me, why did you offer to break off the engagement?”
He raised himself onto one elbow. His gaze was gentle as he stared down at me. He caressed my face with his eyes, leaving no inch unexamined. “I want you to be happy, Rose.” His voice was gravelly. “Even if that isn’t with me.”
With a smile, I urged him down to me once more. “Lucky for you, I think we can be very happy together.”
A grin bloomed across his lips a moment before he touched them to mine. He kissed me sweetly, but soon surrendered to the demand of our bodies. The kiss grew fierce. It swept through me like a touch. When he gyrated against me, I lifted my body to meet his.
He tore his mouth from mine to pepper kisses along my jaw. “I’ve dreamed of this. Every night since I met you.”
I tried to spread my legs to allow the bulge in his breeches to nestle against the aching part of my anatomy that craved him most, but my skirts hampered the movement. I moaned in frustration. “Show me what you’ve dreamed.”
He moaned, burying his face in my neck. His hot breath tickled my skin, raising goose bumps. “Are you sure you don’t want to save it for our wedding night?”
“Do you?”
He raised himself on one elbow to stare down at me. “No.” He guided a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. “But I don’t want you to think me a cad who can’t control himself when around you.”
I smiled. “You don’t? I like the idea that I can drive you mad with desire.”
He grinned. “If you put your mind to it, I won’t have a prayer. No one can hold a candle to
you, in body or in spirit.”
When he leaned down to kiss me again, I met him halfway. Our mouths brushed, lingering at first, but our passion for each other soon overwhelmed us. I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders, using him as an anchor as the world spun around us.
As he rolled onto his side, he snaked his arm around my back and pulled me with him. Cool air kissed the bare flesh above the scoop of my dress.
Warren mated his mouth to mine in slow, ardent kisses as he guided my hair over my shoulder and unbuttoned the back of my dress. I doffed my gloves and trailed my fingers down his front, reveling in the feel of his warm skin against mine. His deft fingers unlaced my stays, loosening them until the front of my dress gaped. He drew back, his hot gaze dropping to the shadow between my breasts. As he dipped his head, pressing kisses to the swell of my cleavage, I ran my hands over his smooth back.
I traced circles over his shoulders as he pressed his lips over my bare skin. He ran his hot palm over my shoulder and arm, pulling down the strap of my dress and chemise beneath. His tongue teased shivers from me as he laved the hollow at the base of my throat. My breath caught. I arched into him, begging for more.
The fabric of my dress scraped over my nipples as I shifted to undress. The tease brought a gasp to my lips. Warren kissed the sound away, his tongue delving into my mouth. I abandoned my teasing to clutch his shoulders instead.
The passion between us mounted until I ground my hips against him, mindlessly begging for more. He cupped my breast, teasing his palm over my nipple. I shivered and arched into him. He caught my bottom lip between his teeth, gently biting me then soothing the sting with his tongue. I curled my fingers into his muscular biceps.
He broke away. A smile teased his mouth, almost drowned out by the urgency in his eyes. “You make me feel like a king.”
I licked my lips, my gaze dropping to his mouth. It was flushed from our kisses. “Oh?” My voice was breathless, though I tried to make it teasing. “Should I hold out for a king?”
He kissed me, funneling all his frustration and passion and need until my head spun. When we broke for air, he whispered, “I’ll treat you like a queen, my dear. That I promise.”
How to Play the Game of Love (Ladies of Passion) Page 26
