“What?” Tension coiled around every limb. His chest squeezed tight against his lungs. Fists clenched, he stalked toward her. “It’s not as if ye’re nae doing the same.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Irritation clutched at his stomach. “Ye’re lying.”
“I’m n—”
“There’s something about ye and yer stories, Miss Russell, something ye’re desperate to hide.” He loomed over her. “Care to tell me what it is?”
She shook her head. “No. I can’t.”
Unexpected disappointment cooled his blood. “Well then. In that case I hope ye can understand if I may have my own reasons for wanting privacy.”
“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. It’s just…”
“Just what?”
She swallowed and looked away. Blayne moved a bit closer – so close he could smell her tempting perfume, an intoxicating scent of chamomile and honey with an added hint of citrus. “If there’s something you fear and I’m able to help, I want you to come to me in the same way I came to you.”
Undone by her offer, Blayne gazed at her in wonder. Every restriction he’d placed on his heart through the years came undone. He felt it swell with the sort of fondness he’d not thought he’d ever be capable of again. “Sweet lass, ye’ve already done so much just by placing yer trust in me. And the set-down ye gave Lady Warwick was extraordinary.”
“I had to say something.”
“Nae, ye didnae have to say a single thing, which is what made it all the more impressive.” Without even thinking he reached up and brushed his thumb along the edge of her jawline. A tremulous sigh escaped her, the sound a jolt to the need she’d instilled in him since the moment they’d met. “Why did ye do it?”
“Because I couldn’t stand to see you hurt.”
Her honesty broke him. Raw emotion overtook all reason and before he had a chance to contemplate what he was doing, he’d pulled her into his arms and captured her mouth in a kiss he hoped would impart what his words could never convey.
You matter to me as well.
More than you should.
I want you.
I need you.
I have to have at least this.
As if in agreement, she arched against him and parted her lips. Rogue that he was, he took advantage, tasting her as if she were the sweetest confection he’d ever been served. He lowered his hand to the flare of her hips and shamelessly drew her flush up against him. She gasped, but did not pull away, thank God. Instead, she clung to him even more, answering each of his movements with ones of her own while letting him savor the fruity flavor of rich champagne still lingering on her tongue. His hand stroked over her spine, then lower toward the curve of her bottom.
Shifting her slightly…just so…he moved into the space between her thighs and kissed a path along her jaw, then down the side of her neck. A soft moan filled the air, the sound so rewarding it almost brought him to his knees.
His fingers tugged at the delicate sleeve of her gown, pulling it down, bringing it lower, his only aim to free her just a little bit more so he could—
A cough broke through his lust-filled haze. Blayne stilled, every muscle and nerve ending drawing tight with apprehension while he paused to listen.
And then, “I think it’s time for my next dance.”
Miss Russell squeaked in response to Mr. Cooper’s stiff voice.
Shite.
Blayne pressed a kiss to her shoulder for reassurance – this wasn’t a meaningless dalliance, lass – then put her sleeve back in order, straightened himself, and took a step back. Turning toward the other man, he waited to be admonished for his actions – to have the threat of immediate marriage thrust upon him.
Instead, Mr. Cooper calmly extended his hand toward Miss Russell and waited.
She glanced at Blayne and he realized she’d turned to him for guidance.
“Ye should go with him,” he said.
A frown appeared on her brow – just a couple of barely visible lines in the darkness. “All right.”
The confusion in her voice made him feel like he’d just stolen something pure and precious from her, only to stomp on it with muddied boots. He cursed as she started moving away. This wasn’t what he’d wanted, it wasn’t how it was meant to be. Miss Russell belonged with him, damn it.
No.
She can’t.
She deserves better than you.
And yet, Blayne could not stand the thought of her in the arms of another man. Not after what they’d just shared – not after the way she’d responded to his caress. Christ above, he knew he wasn’t a well-polished gentleman suitable for a lady like her. He was rough and crude, forged from the sort of experience nightmares were made of. She deserved better. And yet, he feared there was no walking away from her now. Somehow, that kiss – that moment of pure surrender – had bound them together with unbreakable force.
He could feel it in his bones.
“Miss Russell,” he said, even as she moved further away. “I dinnae regret what just happened between us. I’ll nae apologize for it.”
She was gone then, back to the ballroom with Mr. Cooper.
Blayne wished he could go in pursuit but doing so in his current state would be highly inappropriate. So he blew out a breath and forced himself to consider the ramifications of his actions. Miss Russell would want a declaration of sorts. She’d expect him to make her an offer now. But would she accept him if he did and, more to the point, could a man like him even hope for her acceptance?
He wasn’t the least bit sure. After all, she’d hired him to play her fiancé so she could avoid marriage, not launch herself straight at the altar. And what the hell was he doing anyway, contemplating domestic bliss with Miss Russell as though he were free to do as he pleased? His chest tightened. He couldn’t dismiss his past and he certainly couldn’t marry a woman without confiding his sins.
To do so would be wrong.
Plain and simple.
Although…
Almost two decades had passed since that awful night at Merkland Manor. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d done, but maybe he could allow a bit of light into his life. After looking over his shoulder all these years, ever fearful he’d be clapped in chains and either transported or hung by the neck, nothing had happened.
Until tonight when Lady Warwick had pointed out his familiarity.
Blayne bristled.
If he cared for Miss Russell, he’d walk away now before she discovered the truth.
He stared up at the brightly lit windows behind which she danced with Mr. Cooper. If only he could erase the past so he wouldn’t be forced to let the one woman he’d ever felt more than a passing interest in slip between his fingers.
8
“Have my parents gone out yet?” Charlotte asked Daisy when she came to help her with her toilette the following morning.
“Yes. Your mother’s embroidery group is working on a quilt for the charity auction next week, so she’ll probably be absent until some point this afternoon.”
“And Papa?”
“He left right after the viscountess, but I’ve no idea where he’s gone.”
Charlotte stifled a yawn with her hand and proceeded to dress. “Probably to meet with Mr. Cooper with whom he’s become annoyingly friendly. Help me with these buttons please. I’ll have a quick breakfast and then we’ll head out as well.”