Page 98 of This Marquess of Mine

He drew in a breath, and then he crossed the room toward her, his eyes locked on hers.

“This is me trying to right a wrong,” he said gruffly, halting inches away from her. “Doing what I should have done—what I wanted to do—last December in Lord Stevenson’s library.”

Olivia swallowed, slowly sweeping her gaze over his face, searching for the answer to her question before she voiced it. “And what did you want to do?” she whispered.

“Kiss you senseless. Throw myself at your feet.” His voice was a caress. “Love you.”

Her breath hitched.

“I love you, Olivia,” he said softly, drawing her trembling hands in his and stroking his thumbs across her knuckles.

“Do you?” she whispered, afraid to believe him. Valiantly trying to guard her heart.

“I do. Very much.” He smiled. “I have for quite some time, if you must know.”

“Even when you thought me a silly, shallow flirt?” she asked, her own smile wry, self-protective.

His gray eyes dimmed, regret lining his face as he slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry I said those words to you. I shouldn’t have. But when I saw you standing there with that teasing smile and Christmas punch on your lips, I saw only danger. I saw how easy it would be for you to take me apart, piece by piece.” His lips quirked. “Even more terrifying was the fact that I wanted you to do it. Because I wanted you.”

She dropped her gaze to their joined hands, the sight of his bare skin on hers sending a thrill straight through her, even as her mind reeled.

“You didn’t want to, though, did you?” Her eyes lifted to his. “You didn’t want to want me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation, driven by the need to hear the truth, as if the truth would keep her safe.

“No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t.”

The answer did not surprise her, but it stung all the same. Gently she withdrew her hands from his and folded her arms across her belly, desperate to put some distance between them.

“But now you do?” Her brows knit. “Why? What has changed? I know it wasn’t me. I am the same as I’ve always been.”

And, for once, she felt no inclination to apologize for it.

“Yes, you are,” he said, his eyes soft with fondness, as if he liked her, just as she was. “I, however, am not.”

She shook her head. “What does that mean?”

Griffin turned away, raked a hand through his hair before letting it fall to his side. “I…thought I knew you,” he said slowly. “I thought you were a spoiled, title-chasing flirt without scruples yet, still, you tempted me. Still, you were in my thoughts. Under my skin.”

He faced her again, and her heart dipped at the naked feeling in his eyes, the self-deprecating smile curving his lips.

“I tried to stay away from you,” he said. “God knows I tried. But then my mother injured her ankle, and I could no longer avoid you. And as I began to know you better, I realized how wrong I was. There is nothing shallow or silly about you, Olivia. You are clever and funny and sweet.” His gaze pierced hers. “You are the most remarkable woman I’ve ever known.”

Pleasure flowed through her, swift and stunning, even as her mind cautioned her to hold fast.

She swallowed, her lips twisting. “I tried to get close to you,” she whispered. “So many times, I tried. But you always pushed me away.”

“I know. I know you did.” He shook his head, his mouth grim. “I was afraid, Olivia. I was afraid to let you in.”

The admission stunned her. Griffin was always so confident, so self-assured. The vulnerability she saw in his eyes rocked her to her core.

“Afraid?” she asked. “Afraid of what?”

He drew in a breath, as if shoring his courage. “Of disappointing you. Of hurting you, the way my father hurt my mother. To be honest, I still am.”

Olivia stared, trying to make sense of his words. “I don’t understand. Your father—”

“He left her.” Griffin’s gaze fell to the floor, his throat working. “He loved her, and still he left, long before he should have. And I’m afraid I’ll do the same to you.” His eyes met hers. “I don’t want to hurt you, Olivia. I never want to hurt you.”