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Jennette turned only to face Matthew’s angry face. He moved out of her way but she still caught the scent of his frustration—a tangible thing that carried the redolence of sandalwood and pine. And made her heart pound in her chest.
As she walked down the hallway, she sensed his presence behind her. Turning toward him, she demanded, “Why are you following me?”
A smile curved his lips upward. “I am going to my room.”
“As am I.”
“Are you now?” His voice turned husky and haunting.
“Not your room. My room.”
“Now that is a shame,” he said with a grin.
“Stop it! You don’t want me.”
He stepped closer to her. “You know I want you.”
“You cannot want me. You even told John that I wasn’t the right woman for him.”
“He told you that?”
She cringed at the sound of disbelief in his voice. “Yes. He thought it was very kind that you worried about him. I didn’t realize until the morning of the accident just why you said that to him.”
His cold gaze darted between her eyes and her lips.
A part of her wanted to tell him the truth. She had planned to break her engagement but the words wouldn’t come forth. The idea of breaking John’s heart always seemed to stop her.
He walked to a door and waited. “Coming in?” he drawled in a deep voice that made her quiver.
She could say yes and have her questions answered. She would find out exactly what he looked like without clothes, what he felt like, what he tasted—
“No,” she replied. “I am going to my room…mine and my mother’s.”
His smiled deepened. “Coward,” he whispered.
“I am not a coward. I just don’t believe I should come between you and Miss Marston,” she said quickly, then backed up a step. Turning away from him, she walked down the hall.
“Coward.”
His whispered word swept over her. She was a weak coward, but in this case, she was being practical. He deserved a far better woman than her.
Matthew watched as everyone entered the dining room. Lady Elizabeth entered with Jennette. While Miss Marston entered next, he couldn’t keep his gaze off Jennette. Her high-waisted, pale-blue silk gown framed her perfectly rounded breasts.
Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut around her? Asking her to his room was completely unacceptable, no matter how much he desired it. The image of her drawing his picture as she sat alone in the garden wouldn’t leave his mind. The idea that she felt attracted to him warmed his heart and other more wicked parts of his body.
“Lord Blackburn, look, we are seated next to each other.”
God, he wanted that excited voice to be Jennette’s, not Miss Marston’s. But he understood his duty. Marriage. And, he reasoned, Miss Marston was the better choice.
She would bring no baggage with her, as Jennette did. Mary’s reputation was clean, no dead fiancés coming between them. Jennette’s remark about how badly the gossips would talk about them was correct.
Mary was the better choice.
Now he just had to convince his damned desire of that. He held out the seat for Miss Marston as her sweet orange petal perfume swept up his nose. Attempting to control his sneeze, he took the seat next to her.
He glanced over at the woman next to him wondering just how he would feel about her in a year, ten years, forty years. Hopefully, he would grow to love her. No matter what he’d said to Vanessa, he wasn’t the type of man to cheat on his wife. Even if his wife was nothing more than a duty.
“My parents will be joining us tomorrow afternoon,” she commented before taking a sip of her wine.
