“Then let me ask you this: How quickly do you wish to marry?”
“If that’s a proposal, you can rot in hell.”
He chuckled low. He’d loved her before she was this feisty. If he was wise, he’d make himself scarce around her rather than risk falling more deeply in love with her, but then where she was concerned, he’d seldom shown wisdom. “Do you know what his best mates call him?”
She released an impatient breath strong enough to stir the leaves in the tree. “I’m certain you’re going to tell me.”
“Tortoise. The man is remarkably slow at making decisions. I assume for your daughter’s sake, you’d like him speeded up.”
“You have a plan for accomplishing that end?”
“I do. After we return to the ballroom, dance with me.”
“For what purpose?”
He didn’t blame her for the suspicion reflected in her tone. “To make him jealous.”
She scoffed—quieter this time so no one else would hear—and he was reminded of the many times he’d muffled her cries of pleasure. To protect her reputation. All he’d ever wanted was to protect her. Instead, he’d ruined her.
“Our past is well-known. No one is going to believe you have an interest in courting me.”
“They will if I appear... regretful... and still enamored of you.”
“Well, I’m certainly not going to give the impression I have any interest in you at all.”
He took a step toward her. She stood her ground. “In spite of how things ended between us, the smoldering embers of desire haven’t been completely snuffed out, surely.”
“As though several buckets of cold water had been doused upon them, leaving nothing but ash.”
Ah, but the phoenix arose from ashes. He tamped down the thought because nothing had changed, and he still couldn’t give her what she deserved. “Then waltzing with me should hardly affect you.”
“I don’t understand what you gain.”
“An easing of my guilt.”
“As if I should have any interest at all in lessening your suffering.”
“Dancing with me will increase it. If the book wasn’t enough, you could have a little more revenge.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Who’s the coward now?” he goaded, knowing he was backing her into a corner, one in which she would not stay.
“Fine. One waltz. I’ll return to the ballroom first.”
She didn’t wait for his response, but simply edged past him, her gardenia scent wafting toward him. He inhaled deeply as though he could bring all of her nearer, but she disappeared into the shadows.
He held still, counting the seconds before he couldfollow, detouring around the gardens so he emerged from another direction.
While she might not acknowledge it, Regina needed his protection more now than ever. As did her daughter. He intended to ensure Regina was married by Season’s end.
Chapter 7
“You deserve more than the cold ground,” he said. “You deserve a warm bed. One heated by the fires of our passion for each other.”
—Anonymous,My Secret Desires, A Memoir
June 12, 1875
