Rosalind shook her head slowly, staring off into the corner of the room. “I-I don’t want be a matchmaker anymore.”
Silence filled the air.
“Are you all right?” Lucy touched her shoulder.
Rosalind shook her head. “No. I don’t feel very well. If you don’t mind—”
Lucy held up a hand. “I understand. I want to see you before you go. Make sure of it?”
Rosalind nodded, tried to smile and failed. Lucy tilted her head sadly and quietly left the room.
All at once Rosalind felt as if the fog in her mind had cleared. She’d thought he was hiding something, possibly his feelings for her, but now it was entirely possible that the reason Nicholas was acting cool toward her was that his heart resided with someone else.
And that meant that as special and wonderful as she had thought last night had been, he had used her. He’d wanted her and he’d wrestled with his conscience because she was his best friend’s little sister, she was his responsibility, she was his vexing business.
Her heart started to race and her breaths came faster. Dear Lord, she had made a dreadful miscalculation of his regard.
Someone knocked softly on her door.
“Come in,” she called out, her voice cracking on the words.
The door creaked open and Nicholas walked through with slow, measured steps.
Her gaze already on the floor, she gradually raised her eyes from his polished boots, snug black breeches, flat waistcoat, broad chest, cravat, to his beautiful face.
His gray eyes narrowed slightly when their gazes finally met. “I needed to speak with Tristan,” he said, explaining his presence. “I have. Just.” He cleared his throat. “But now I need to speak with you.”
Breath whooshed out of him and he started to pace the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.
He was so nervous. She’d never seen him behave in such a manner.
“I-I have a confession to make,” he intoned. “I don’t know if you realize how difficult this is for me to say. I didn’t want it to be like this.”
Her eyes followed his path, back and forth.
“I have kept some things from you.”
Her heart skittered inside her chest. Here it was. Here was his confession—that he wanted to be with someone else.
“Don’t say it,” she exclaimed, a bit too forcefully.
He stopped in his tracks, his straight brows drawing together.
She advanced toward him, tears welling in her eyes. “Don’t say anything.”
Kiss him now. Kiss him one last time. For when he says he doesn’t love you, you can’t pretend any longer.
Reaching up, she framed his jaw in her hands, pulled him close, and kissed him like she had never done before. Her mouth moved over his perfect sculpted lips like she was the dominant one. Walking him backwards, she kissed him like she was conquering him.
Hands at her elbows, he stopped walking when the backs of his thighs met with her bed. Her tongue delved into his hot, slightly chocolate tasting mouth, mating with his.
And then his momentary shock dissolved and the roles reversed. He pulled her roughly to him, spun around, and sat her on the high bed. Just as he started leaning further into her, forcing her to recline, she pushed at him. For several moments he didn’t budge. And then, as if coming out of a daze, he eased himself away from her.
As soon as she was free, Rosalind ran out of the room.
Rosalind rounded the corner that would lead her to the rear entrance and nearly crashed into Tristan.
“Whooh! Slow down there.” One hand holding a copy of the Times, the other holding a sloshing cup of tea, he took a look down the front of himself. “Missed.” He raised a brow. “Got a spot on my boot though.”
She averted her gaze and made to move around him. She didn’t want him to look into her eyes and see that she was upset.
She needn’t worry. He was too concerned about his boot.
As she walked past him, he mumbled, “Despite the state of my boot, there is a bit of good news. Did you know, Nicholas just informed me that he has a pair of Welsh cobs? Excellent horses. I’ve always wanted one. I must say I’m going to like having Nicholas as my brother-in-law.”
She froze. “What did you say?” She turned, bit by bit, to face him.
“My new broth— Didn’t he?” His eyes grew large and guilty looking. “He said he was going to . . .”
“Oh no. Oh-no-oh-no-oh-no.” She dashed past Tristan, heading for the stairs. She prayed Nicholas hadn’t left.
What a little fool she was! Here he had come to propose, confess his feelings, and she’d stopped him. It was obvious speaking about his feelings was difficult for him—and then she’d stopped him?
Please let him still be here.
Dashing down the hall, she skirted past a tall figure, grabbed the newel post to launch herself up the stairs . . . and froze.
Looking over her shoulder, she glanced to where Nicholas stood next to the stairs.
“Good afternoon,” she said, drawing out the words. A tremulous smile played on her lips.
Nicholas grinned like a fool.
Without taking her eyes off him, she lifted her chin toward the stairs. “Come with me?”
“As you wish.” He grabbed her hand and together they trudged up the stairs and into her room.
“Quietly,” she warned, pointing to her aunt’s closed door.
He nodded.
Inside her room, she gently shut the door behind them, grabbed his arm, and steered him over to the stool before her writing desk.
Taking a deep breath, she patted down her skirts and then clasped her hands in front of her demurely.
“Now, you were saying?”
He laughed, suddenly feeling such contentedness that it should have frightened him. But it only made him happy.
He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her forehead. And then, quietly, he said, “I have a confession to make.”
“Indeed? Go, on.”
“A few, in fact.”
“You have my rapt attention.”
“Some might make you angry.”
This caused her to raise one delicate brow. “Truly? Out with it, then.”
“I can waltz.”
“I suspected.” She sighed. “But I shall forgive you based on your performance on the sofa afterwards.”
“Should you like a repeat performance, that could easily be arranged.”
“We’ll see. You have more confessions to make, after all.”
“Ah. Well, my next confession is that I accepted no whisky. Gabriel didn’t offer me any compensation, and I wouldn’t have accepted it even if he did.”
“Why?” she whispered, looking unsure.
“I told myself that I was doing a favor for a friend, that you’re an obligation. Hell, I even told Tristan that earlier today. But I’m tired of fighting it.”
He squeezed her and looked directly into her eyes. “Because I love you, Rosalind. I think I’ve loved you for a very long time. Years. I think, because of my fears, I kept fighting the feeling. I kept telling myself that I was only attracted to you, that it would fade, that you would marry someone else someday.”
She opened her mouth to speak and he quieted her as he brushed the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.
“I tried to spend the least amount of time in your presence as possible. Because every moment I am near you, the pull to be with you grows stronger, my resolve to resist you weakens.”
“Nicholas. I love you. And I have loved you for a very long time, as well. But unlike you, I didn’t fear it. But I did fear your indifference.”
He chuckled low. “If you only knew. I’m sorry for misleading you. For being such a coward. Would spending the rest of my life showing you just how entranced by you I am suffice?”
She nodded, smiling.
“Marry me, Rosalind. Be my wife.”
“Of course I will.”
He kissed her tenderly, openly, hol
ding nothing back.
When they finally pulled apart, she gave him a skeptical look.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s just that . . . twice you told me that you like quiet, tall blonds . . . and Miss Polk is tall and blond. And she followed you all the way here . . .”
He shook his head, inwardly kicking himself for teasing her. “Rosalind. Listen. If I wanted to marry Miss Polk, I would have done so long ago. If I wanted to have any relations with Miss Polk, I would have done so long ago. My nieces are aware of her interest in me because the woman is about as subtle as a cannonball blast.”
Rosalind laughed. “All right.”
“However,” he said, curling his arms around her to hold her tighter to him, “I should confess that I am completely obsessed with short, raven-haired, blue-eyed lassies named Rosalind.”
“Indeed?”
His mouth descended to her. “Oh, am I ever.”
Acknowledgments
A special thank you to Esi Sogah
About the Author
At eight years old, OLIVIA PARKER wrote her first romance with a fat red marker. It made one’s eyes hurt to read it, but it did have a tortured hero. Since then, she’s dedicated her efforts to improving her craft (now using pencils) and divides her time among her love of writing, reading, and relaxing with her family. She currently resides in northern Ohio with her husband, three children, a border collie, and a cockatiel, who eats a worrisome amount of popcorn.
Olivia would love to hear from readers. Readers may contact her through her website at www.oliviaparker.net.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
By Olivia Parker
Guarding a Notorious Lady
To Wed a Wicked Earl
At the Bride Hunt Ball
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by Tracy Ann Parker. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition JUNE 2011 ISBN: 9780062005311
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Publisher
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Acknowledgments
About the Author
By Olivia Parker
Copyright
About the Publisher
Guarding a Notorious Lady Page 22
