The deluge ended and he saw her, finally, against the wall. She was gasping for air, too, but mainly from laughter. One hand was pressed against her stomach and the other over her mouth, but her amusement could be heard and seen in her eyes.
There were a few droplets of water dripping from her hat and hair, but from the looks of her, Hugo’s aim had been good. The bull’s-eye had been the back of Drake’s head.
Turning about, Drake shot a glare at the elephant, who let out a trumpet. Drake finger-combed his wet hair away from his face and shook his arms, spraying water droplets from his coat-sleeves as he walked forward. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked Meridith.
She nodded, and laughter laced her one-word answer. ‘Yes.’
He gasped hold of her hand and led her from the room, feeling the water that had soaked through his coat, shirt, andpants now entering his boots. If he had any sense, he’d be thanking Hugo, because that kiss had been too heated.
Meridith was an innocent. A lady, and at this moment, he felt like a true rake, because one thing alone had been occupying his mind.
‘I’d offer you a towel, but there’s not one in here,’ Meridith said as they entered the storage room.
Drake closed the split door, sparing another solid glare for Hugo before pulling the top half closed, too. ‘I’ll dry.’ Unbuttoning his coat, he pulled it off and hung it on the doorknob. ‘How wet are you?’
She wiped at the front of her dress with both hands. ‘I’m not. Just a little bit hit my hat and hair.’
‘Well, at least he has manners,’ Drake said, stepping close enough to brush a drop of water off the brim of her hat.
Meridith’s heart was still racing, her lips still tingling, and her insides still roiling with an uncontrollable heat that had ignited during their kissing. Her mind was just as chaotic as her body. Drake had left for Bristol the very day that Peter had suggested making him marry her in exchange for a partnership, and since then she’d been wondering how she would react upon seeing him again.
Drake didn’t want marriage. He’d been open and honest about that with her and Peter, and it infuriated her that Peter had suggested such a thing.
She was also furious with herself, because more than once, she’d contemplated what would happen if she agreed with Peter. Only because deep down, she wanted to marry Drake more than anything she’d ever wanted in the past or ever would in the future.
She wanted it even more now. After kissing him. Kissing him in the way that a woman kissed a man that she desired. Desired in the way a wife desired a husband. She fully recognized that Drake was what her body wanted. Only him.
That was what her heart wanted, too. But she couldn’t listen to her heart. Nor could she act upon that want. She couldn’t mail the letter, as Alena had suggested.
She couldn’t be the one to ruin the life that Drake loved.
He wasn’t supposed to be back yet. He’d told Mr Ratnam that he’d be gone for at least a week. It had only been five days. Meridith wasn’t even packed yet. Her plan was to do exactly what she’d told Peter. Go live at Chesterfield. Where there was no chance she would encounter Drake. Where she could wallow in sorrow for a love that would never be fulfilled. A life that would never be lived.
‘Meridith?’
She swallowed, blinked, stared at him. Water was still dripping from his hair. The mischievous gleam was in his eyes. The permanent grin on his lips. The tiny dimple in his chin. All things about him that she loved. All things about him that she’d missed.
Dear heavens. Why had she forgotten everything she knew to be just and real the moment she saw him? Why had she hugged him? Kissed him? Laughed when Hugo sprayed him with water? Perhaps because she’d needed this. Needed to confirm everything she’d already known.
It certainly had been confirmed. He was the only man she would ever want. Ever love. Every part of her knew that to be true.
Just as she knew that she could not be the one to ruin his life.
‘I have to leave,’ she whispered, more to herself than to him.
He frowned.
She bit her lip, knowing she should leave, but not wanting to go. The idea of never seeing him again was breaking her heart in two.
He was such a perfect man. The perfect man.
His shirt was wet. Soaking wet, and white, which made it translucent, showing off the muscles of his arms, the bulk of his shoulders and chest, and the narrowness of his waist.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, and swallowing didn’t help. Neither did closing her eyes.
Leaving was the only thing that would help, and heavens preserve her, because it felt as if that could very well be the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Yet it was exactly what she must do, somehow. Willing herself to be strong, she twisted, opened her eyes, and moved towards the door with legs that practically fought every step.
‘I’m sorry,’ Drake said.
