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9
Lillian hated herself.
No, she hated Fallenmore.
Still, the echoing fear and rage in Dane’s eyes made Lillian disgusted with herself and angry at the man who’d done this to her. Tears of frustration threatened as the panic eased.
This was Dane, not Fallenmore.
Dane would never hurt her. He was holding her at arms’ length but she slumped against him as her knees gave out in the aftermath of her panic. “I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize.” It was a firm command and it made the corners of her lips curve up in a wan smile as she rested her cheek against his chest.
The loud thudding of his heart was a comfort, as was the gentle touch of his hands smoothing over her hair and rubbing the still-taut muscles of her back.
“Thank you,” she said.
He didn’t respond except for a grunt that seemed to say he was just as annoyed by her gratitude as her apologies. She laughed softly at the thought. Beast, indeed. The man couldn’t even accept that she was in his debt.
This so-called beast was more of a gentleman than any gentleman she’d ever met.
But she knew better than to try and tell him so.
She pulled back at last and felt heat rushing up into her cheeks at the warmth in his eyes. The way he looked at her made her mind recall every whimper and every moan, every gasp and every needy touch. She ducked her head. “I-I—” She wouldn’t apologize. He wouldn’t want to hear it. “I don’t know what came over me earlier.”
His huff was one of amusement. “I do.”
She glanced up and the small smile that hovered over his lips made her heart clench. She could count on one hand the times she’d seen him smile. He ought to do it more. It transformed his harsh features into something softer and far less intimidating.
He still wasn’t handsome, necessarily—at least not by conventional standards. But the smile made him seem far more touchable. She reached up and ran her fingers over the stubble of his jaw and then up further to trace the faint scar.
“Knife wound,” he said.
Her lips twitched as she fought the urge to ask questions and fuss over him. He wouldn’t want that anymore than he wanted her apologies or her thanks.
He was a proud man, her Dane, and his secrets and his past would come out when he was good and ready.
She took a step back. “I-I should get ready if we are to leave for my father’s house.”
He didn’t agree. His steady gaze watched her closely.
She felt inexplicably nervous. Silly, considering he’d just been kissing her until she’d thought she might melt into a puddle. The memory had that heat returning, along with a myriad of other sensations—confusing, overwhelming sensations.
She looked down at the floor, afraid of what he might see if she met his gaze.
“Holding you in my arms was the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her head shot up at the low rumble of words. Spoken so plainly, like he was commenting on the weather. Her lips parted at the dark heat in his eyes and her gaze dipped to his lips.
Would he kiss her again or had she scared him off?
Desolation swelled inside her and made her want to cry. Was she ruined forever? Would she always fear the touch of a man because of Fallenmore’s violence?
She started to back away. “I should dress—”
“Wait,” he said.
She paused.
