Page 18 of An Accidental Elopement

“Miss Gaywood,” his father stated from the doorway. Archie turned to see him enter and then close the door behind him.

“No, you cannot make me,” Cecilia cut his father off in a shrill voice, which made Archie both want to laugh and his heart race with anticipation of how his father would react. He had never experienced anyone interrupt his father before. “Algernon has told me enough that I know perfectly well what should have happened before I was actually ruined.”

Mr. Gaywood turned and stared at his oldest son with a thunderous glare. Algernon Gaywood’s ears turned bright red, and he avoided his father’s gaze.

“Now, Miss Gaywood,” Archie’s father said behind him and walked further into the room with slow and steady steps until he reached Archie’s side. “I am sure that you are aware that nothing actually has to happen for a woman to be ruined. The mere possibility is enough to taint her reputation.”

Cecilia only sent his father a mean scowl as she regarded him for a second before she turned towards her own father and once again stated:

“You cannot make me do it.”

Archie had liked her before, had found her attractive before, but this fierceness that she was displaying was absolutely intoxicating. He felt breathless at the prospect of what it would be like to be alone with her, to be intimate with her, if she showed this kind of passion in the bedroom.

“Mr. Gaywood, might I have a word alone with your daughter? I promise that nothing untoward will happen, it is merely... I find that it might be easier to convince her if we are alone,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady and his gaze off Cecilia.

Mr. Gaywood regarded him for a moment with an unreadable expression. His eyes strayed to Archie’s father. Archie looked at him as well and saw that he gave a short, curt nod.

“You will have ten minutes and we will be waiting right outside the door,” his father told him in a clipped voice.

Archie nodded and took a step towards Cecilia who in turn stumbled back a step.

“And what if I do not want to be alone with him?” she demanded, stopping the three other men who had only managed a couple of paces towards the door. “Will that not endanger my reputation even further?”

“You will hear him out,” Mr. Gaywood ground out without looking at her. He hurried to the door as if he was afraid she would protest further. He abandoned both courtesy and rank as he strode through the door just as Archie’s father reached it. The duke did not seem to mind though but simply followed the other man. Algernon Gaywood was the last to exit. He sent his sister a long meaningful look that Archie was not certain how to interpret. What Cecilia’s close-knit brows and thin lips meant was not clear to him either, except of course that it was a show of great displeasure.

As the door clicked shut behind Algernon Gaywood Archie turned towards Cecilia. He inhaled deeply, hoping that he would see new reasons for them to marry that he had not already given her previously in the private parlor.

***

Cecilia crossed her arms more firmly over her chest. There was nothing that Archie could say that would make her want to marry him. In the few hours she had spent alone in her room before her father and Algernon showed up, she had concocted a plan: She would go to America and start a new life for herself there. Surely her ruined reputation would not travel with her all the way across the Atlantic. She should be able to find a suitable husband there; the season in Boston or New York could not possibly be as soul crushing as that of London.

Archie had not moved or spoken in the about thirty seconds that they had spent alone together. She was curious what his expression was but did not dare look at him. Where he had been handsome before, he was downright lethal in his present attire without a cravat, his shirt open to reveal too much skin around his neck and even some of his chest. The few glimpses she had allowed herself had made her fingers want to brush over it and bury her nose there to figure out whether it was at his neck his enticing scent of bergamot originated. Then she would trace her lips over that skin. Revel in the softness of it...

The thought made heat pool in areas of her body that certainly should not be associated with Archie. No, Lord Archibald, that was how she would think of him from now on. There could be nothing between them. A man of his reputation could never be happy with being tied to one woman and especially not to her.

“Now speak, Lord Archibald,” she demanded to distract herself from the way the thought of him never wanting to marry was making her breathing shallow and her chest feel too tight. “What new reasons are you going to state that will somehow convince me to marry you?”

Lord Archibald did not speak at once. Cecilia refused to turn in his direction and explore his face to have any notion of what went on inside him. She had no idea why he felt that he needed to act gentlemanly now all of a sudden when it had clearly not been his habit previously. Could he not see that a marriage would make both of them miserable? He would lose the freedom he loved, and she would forever have to compromise and try to act as if she did not know that he was with other women.

“I don’t have any other arguments to persuade you,” Lord Archibald told her in a tone of voice she could not decipher. There was no trace of defeat or anger in his words, although she would have thought that one of those emotions would be most dominant in his mind. It seemed as if he was simply stating it.

After having surveyed the floor in front of her to figure out whether she could find any meaning to his words, she had to turn and look at him. He was standing casually with his hands down his side, putting more weight onto one leg than the other, which made him stand a bit lopsided. His face was calm, his ocean blue eyes resting on her. Cecilia’s eyes quickly dipped to the v of his chest that was exposed by the shirt, then she returned her gaze to his and tried to force herself not to flush although she was not exactly sure that she succeeded.

When she met his gaze again, there was a trace of mirth and she noticed how one side of his mouth had started to quirk up.

“I have no other arguments than this.”

Before Cecilia had time to think, he strode to stand right in front of her, embracing her, crutches and all, and then he lowered his head to find her lips.

It was a feather light kiss, just his warm and soft lips brushing hers. She ached for him to press his lips more firmly against hers at the same time as she knew she should pull away from him. She could have at least tried; he was both larger and stronger than her, meaning that if he truly wanted to kiss her against her wish, he could, but she did not even test it.

Instead, she felt her body lean into his as she let go of the crutches to be closer to him. They fell to the floor with a clatter, but she was too preoccupied that she was engulfed in his scent of bergamot to care. His lips kept kissing her own ever so lightly, driving her mad with the need to have him kiss her properly, firmly, passionately. Her own lips molded after his in an attempt to coax him into deepening the kiss.

If anything, it only made his kisses lighter, softer. Damnation, she wanted to groan with frustration. She felt his smile under her lips and became aware that he was doing it on purpose, that he was teasing her. She drew back from him, her gaze on his full lips as she spoke:

“As arguments go, I find that to be a rather weak one, Lord Archibald.” She would have loved it if she could have delivered that line in her normal tone of voice and not light and breathy as it was now.

He chuckled, which made her gaze snap from his lips to his eyes, but she had no time to discern the look there since he pressed her to him, his lips landing on hers again, but this time definitely not gently.