Page 38 of Dare it all for Love

He kissed her, trying his utmost to keep things under control. Just a kiss, he promised himself. He wasn’t at the mercy of his passions, no longer a green boy. He could keep himself in check. God, but it was difficult. She was so sweet, so eager, holding nothing back, giving him everything, giving him ideas. He pulled back, hauling in a breath.

“Stop,” he said, though he had to be firmer when she lifted her mouth to his once more. “No.”

“Henry,” she pleaded, tugging at his neck.

It would have been so easy to give in, too easy. She was worth more than that. He pulled her close, stroking her hair. “I must speak to your father and ask for permission to court you.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

Henry grunted, shaking his head. “You thought we’d continue to sneak about, stealing kisses? I’m not some spotty youth, Florence. The sooner you rid yourself of those kinds of ideas, the better.”

She looked indignant, as well she might, and he cursed himself for sounding such a stuffy old prig. He was the one who’d dragged her into the bedroom, after all.

“I’m only surprised that you’re admitting you wish to court me,” she said, temper flashing in her eyes.

He reached out, the urge to touch her irresistible. His fingers caressed the elegant line of her jaw, her throat, her skin like silk beneath his touch. He longed to lean down and kiss his way along the path his fingers had taken, but he did not dare. The temptation to go too far would be unbearable. Hell, it already was.

“I can hardly deny it, but I won’t rush things. Your father will likely tell me to go to the devil as it is, but assuming I can bring him around I don’t doubt it will be a condition. He’ll think you’ve just formed a tendre for me that will wane in time.”

“That’s what you think too, isn’t it?” she said.

Henry shrugged, unwilling to say it aloud, as if acknowledging his fears would bring them to life.

“It isn’t true.”

There was such certainty in her eyes he wanted to believe her with no reservations, but he was not a fool, and he would not hand his heart to another young woman, only to see it trampled into the dirt once again.

“Someone once told me I was her great love and that there would never be another, that she would love me until the day she died. I believed her.”

Disgust flashed in her eyes, such anger on his behalf that he was rather stunned by it.

“She was the biggest fool that ever lived for jilting you, and I’d put money on her having regretted it ever since.”

Henry snorted, toying idly with a thick lock of her black hair. It was so soft. He raised it to his mouth, enjoying the feel against his lips. “Riches and a title were what the lady wanted, and what she got. I imagine she’s well pleased by the bargain.”

“I don’t. I imagine she’s discovered jewels and a title are cold and unloving when she looks at her life and considers everything she might have had.”

“Are you certain of that? Your father is one of the richest men in the country, Florence. I am not. Oh, I’m hardly a pauper. The estate is productive, and I invested in several schemes during my time abroad, which will provide a steady income for years to come. You’ll lack for nothing and always be able to hold your head up in society, but I cannot compete with the likes of Gabriel Knight, and I have no intention of trying to. I cannot provide you with a private railway carriage, or a grand house in every county.”

“And you think those things are important to me?” One imperious black eyebrow rose, her expression one of disdain.

Henry smiled, though he could not pretend it was not something that weighed on his mind. “I think you’ve been indulged by a doting father, who would give you the moon if you asked for it.”

She pushed away from him, which was a relief, even though he missed the feel of her body against his and longed for her to return to him. “You think me spoiled and foolish.”

“I do not think you foolish,” he said, amused by the furious glare she shot him. He walked away from her, leaning against the wall, folding his arms as she stalked to the window and looked out. “What was your last birthday present?”

Her shoulders stiffened. “I shan’t tell you,” she retorted.

“That’s what I thought.”

She stared out at the landscape, at the sun gilding the surrounding countryside, burnishing it to a crisp, brittle gold as the usually green and pleasant land shimmered in the extraordinary heat.

“Do you know what I want, Henry?”

She turned then, meeting his eyes, and Henry’s breath caught at the sight. The light hit her profile just so, her beauty so exquisite in that moment it was like an arrow shaft straight to the heart. How would he bear it if he allowed himself to love her, and could not hold her?

“What do you want?”