“Stop calling me that!” She snatched her hand away from his arm and fled down the path, heading in a blind rush in the direction of Grosvenor Gate. In seconds, Christian hadcaught up with her, grasped her hand, and placed it back in the crook of his elbow. She wanted to pull away, but he held her firmly against his side. Heat flowed between them, thickening the air in her lungs, trapping the words of rejection in her throat.
But what was there to reject? He hadn’t offered anything.
She managed a weak protest. “This … this is ridiculous.”
“What is, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.
The simple endearment drove a spike of longing and pain through her heart. Only Jeremy had ever addressed her like that. Jeremy, the only man she had ever loved. And yet, when Christian spoke to her in that low, rumbling voice, and held her close to him, surrounding her with his seductive, masculine strength …
She pulled in a frustrated breath and threw her free arm out in a circle.
“This.Us. You, acting like—” She broke off, trying to find the right words, the words that would make him stop doing whatever it was that made her wish for things she could no longer have.
Gritting her teeth, she ordered her pounding heart to settle, then met his gaze. He looked calm and watchful, completely in control. For some reason she couldn’t explain, that frayed her temper until it broke into pieces.
“Christian, why are you wasting time with me?” she snapped. “Don’t you have better things to do than toddle around the park with boring old widows?”
He drew her to a halt, turning her to face him. She suddenly became aware that they had walked into the shade of a secluded stand of trees, away from the open lawns of the park. The playful shrieks of the children had faded, a peaceful silence taking their place. The bustle of the city seemed distant. Only the coo of a mourning dove calling for its mate intruded on their solitude.
Christian tilted her chin up with a gloved finger. His features were stern, even remote, but his eyes smoldered with a fierce emotion, an intensity that unnerved her, making her stomach flutter.
“You mustn’t talk about yourself that way, Clarissa.” His low voice held a note of command. “Not to me. I won’t allow it.”
She stared wretchedly up at him, at a loss for words. The hard lines of his face gentled. He stroked his finger along the edge of her jaw, the texture of his leather glove a whisper of velvet across her skin.
“Shall I tell you why I won’t allow it?” he murmured.
She struggled to find her voice. To find her wits. “Yes … no. I … don’t know,” she replied, cringing at her awkward response.
He studied her, then shook his head, looking rueful. “Maybe later. You’re not ready to hear what I have to say.”
She blinked, deflated by his answer. Whatever it was that he wanted to tell her, she knew it would frighten her. But a part of her brain—her heart—yearned to hear it.
Yearned for him.
Transfixed and horrified by the thought that had popped unbidden into her head, Clarissa didn’t resist when he guided her back along the path. Silence fell between them, weighted and full of meaning—for her. She hadn’t a clue what Christian was thinking.
After waiting minutes for him to say something, she could no longer stand the silence. If one of them didn’t speak, she might very well succumb to a fit of the vapors and run screaming from the park.
Or box Christian’s ears.
Taking a deep breath, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “Captain Archer, when do you return to Portugal? Very soon, I would think.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wantedto sink into the ground. Could she possibly have made it any more evident that she wanted him gone?
He muttered a quiet oath. It was not the kind of thing he would normally say in polite company.
She lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?”
He shot her an irritated glance. “Don’t start calling meCaptain Archer,Clarissa.”
“And don’t make a fuss over such a little thing,” she retorted, feeling defensive. “Please answer my question. When do you return to Portugal?”
“In a few weeks, at most. My shoulder is healed, so I don’t have any reason to remain in London, do I?”
He sounded enough like a disgruntled schoolboy that she was tempted to laugh. She suddenly felt on familiar ground, with everything back in its proper place.
“Do you miss the Peninsula?” she asked, genuinely curious. “Even though it’s dangerous, it must be very exciting, especially since you’re an ADC to a general.”
