Page 52 of Sinfully Daring

“Are you sleeping, then?”

He smiled, a wistful quirk of his lips that did odd things to her insides. “Dreaming,” he corrected.

Gathering her courage, Rosamund closed the door to the garden and walked towards him.

“Then what are you dreaming about?”

He sat back, staring up at her as she paused at the edge of the path, her skirts not quite touching his boots.

“It began as a bad dream, actually, and then it became a nightmare from which I thought I would never wake. But now….”

He stared up at her, as if he could not believe she was real. The silence stretched out as Rosamund waited, needing to know what came next.

“But now?” she whispered, her heart picking up speed as her patience frayed.

“I never dared to think of you,” he said, his voice rougher now, a sense of desperation lingering behind the words. “I thought I had lost any chance for happiness because I’d been such a naïve fool, so idiotic as to marry a woman I did not know nor understood when we were both too silly and shallow to know better. I swear, Rosamund, if I could have just been your friend, I would have counted that as the greatest of blessings.”

“I know,” she said, blinking back tears at the emotion in his voice.

He put his head in his hands, fingers clutching at his hair. “This is wrong. I know it’s wrong, but I want to do it anyway. God, I must be wicked to the core.”

Rosamund watched him, aware of his turmoil, uncertain what to say to make it right, for there was no right. It was wrong of them to marry so fast, and yet, life was short, and Adelia had set this chain of events in motion.

“You are not the least bit wicked, but… but you can change your mind if you don’t want to…”

He laughed then, looking up at her with such despair in his face. “Don’t want to? My God, Rosamund. You are offering me everything I have ever dreamed of. Do you really think I am strong enough to walk away from that, knowing that you want it too? But at the same time Adelia is dead. She’s dead and—” He groaned and shook his head.

Rosamund hesitated, choosing her words with care. “I know. I understand how difficult this is for you because you are honourable and true. I know what people will think of us too, but we know the truth, Hargreaves. I certainly do. You are a good man who deserved better. Let me give you better. I swear I will try my best.”

She watched as he lifted his head, staring at her. He reached out then, and she did the same, a jolt of awareness running through her as his large hand closed around hers. “Surely it is wrong to feel this much joy after everything that has happened? I keep experiencing this overwhelming sense of relief and happiness and just as quickly, I am swamped with guilt that I could move on with my life with so little regret. Adelia was young and full of life and, even though she made me so bloody wretched, I did not want this for her.”

“I know that,” Rosamund said, stepping closer to him so that her skirts billowed about his legs. “You are a good man, my lord, and I do not think it is wrong for you to find happiness when what happened to your wife was not your fault.”

“Would you sit with me?” he asked, never taking his eyes from her, as though afraid she might disappear if he looked away.

Rosamund nodded, and he made room for her, keeping a firm grip on her hand. His gaze was so intent that she lowered her eyes, for his nearness made her insides feel all hot and muddled.

“If your father is successful, we could be married this night,” he said.

Rosamund let out a shaky breath and nodded. She felt him raise her hand and turned to see him press it to his lips. She was not wearing gloves and the feel of his mouth upon her skin made her breathing hitch and her heart race.

“Is this really what you want?” he asked, clasping her hand between his.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He frowned, studying her with such intensity she felt as if he wanted to stare inside her head and read her thoughts. “You need to be very certain of that, Rosamund. I know what it is to marry in haste and to spend my life repenting for it.”

“I know you,” she said breathlessly as she reached out her free hand and cupped his cheek. “I am certain.”

He closed his eyes and turned his face into the caress, holding her hand in place as he pressed a kiss to her palm. Rosamund felt giddy and oddly like laughing. Her blood surged in her veins and a strange restless sensation rolled over her. “The devil with it, then,” he said, his voice firm.

Rosamund gasped as he opened his eyes and she saw he had made his choice.

“The devil with it,” she agreed.

“I should like very much to kiss you.”

“I-I should like that too,” she managed, rather astonished she had got the words out.