by Lavinia Kent
Perhaps one who thought she was capable. And wasn’t that a strange thought. Did Colton actually trust her to do this on her own? Evidently he did.
But did she dare? Wasn’t the note itself an unspoken dare?
She did have to admit that if they were to meet, it could not be much later than dawn, or she would be seen. Did it matter if she was seen?
That all depended on what she was going to say to Colton. And that was still a mystery even to her. She wasn’t even sure she would go. Only how could she not?
Then there was that Please. Colton never said please.
Chapter 20
She’d hardly slept—and yet she was not tired. Her whole body hummed with unwanted anticipation. Sliding from the bed, she looked about for the simple dress she’d worn the other day, finding it hanging in the back of the wardrobe. She was lucky the maid had not already taken it to be brushed and freshened. There were other gowns that she could manage by herself, but this was by far the easiest.
She pulled it over her head and tightened it up.
There was not much she could do with her hair, so she left it in its single braid and hurriedly pulled slippers onto her feet and grabbed a shawl.
A moment later she was scurrying down the hall, listening to every sound. It was not yet light, but she could hear the maids beginning to move, sneaking into rooms to set fires. She slowed her step; as long as she looked as if she knew what she was about, no maid would question her.
Down the stairs, around the corner, and then she stopped. Were the doors still locked? She had not considered such a thing. How early did the porter make his rounds, unlocking things for the day? She slipped into the library and tried the narrow door leading out to the terrace.
Locked.
Should she wander the house, searching for an open door? There must be several for the maids and houseboys to use. Still, it would look odd if she was seen at the kitchen door. Perhaps she should pretend to be going out for a ride. Many ladies did that while in the country.
And then she heard steps. She looked about, trying to think where to hide. It probably was not necessary, but…She ducked down behind a heavy armchair.
The porter entered, a large string of keys at his belt. A footman followed, holding a candle.
“Now, William,” the porter said, “it is most important that you unlock the library door early. Any young gentlemen who were waylaid at the village tavern may come in this way. We do not wish to leave it open all night, but it is always good to let them in early. It does save explanations.”
A look passed between the two men. The door was unlocked and they turned and left.
Angela said a little prayer and then slid through the door and was free. She was glad to have heard the explanation about the returning young gentlemen. It added extra care to her step and a touch of fury to her stride.
Men.
She knew exactly why they’d be coming in late from the village.
Drunkenness would be the best of it.
She didn’t even want to think of barmaids and such.
Why did they have to act like such—such—such…Blast, she didn’t even know an appropriate word. She pulled in a breath and calmed herself. She’d already determined that a lady had to ignore this aspect of society—no matter how much she wanted to scream and yell.
She’d had no trouble attaching her affections to one man and keeping them there—and that included the affections of her body as well as her mind. Why could not men be the same?
And Colton was no better.
A chill took her. That was still the core of it all, the core of her worry, of her doubt.
Colton was no different from any other man. He’d kept a mistress while he was courting her.
She must not forget it, for all she’d done her best to ignore it, to put it in the past.
And she was considering marrying him.
She pulled in a deep breath. She hadn’t even realized that she was still so affected by the knowledge that he had been unfaithful. Yes, she knew it had changed her, made her less willing to take risks, forced her to hide her emotions even from herself, but as long as it was all a game she did not have to think about it. As long as she planned to turn down his proposal, she did not have to think about it. If what was between them was not real, was all a game, then it did not matter how he acted when he was not with her.
Only now it was no longer a game. Now it was real.
And now she must think about, must talk to him about it.
Could she lay all her feelings out? Could her trust extend that far?
And if it didn’t, could she even imagine saying yes?
She stopped and turned to look at the house, lights appearing in a few upper windows. Perhaps she should just return and go back to bed. And then what?
If she didn’t meet Colton and talk to him, how would this ever be resolved? And resolved it must be. She’d spent far too long playing this dangerous game.
Her feet began to move again, fast and sure.
She would tell Colton no, and she would tell him why. She would tell him that she could not be with a man she did not believe would be faithful, a man she knew had not been faithful in the past, a man who did not love her. And more, she would explain that she did care for him, that she cared for him far more than she ought, but that she truly wanted a love match, she wanted a man who did not ask her to marry him because he thought they would muddle along well enough.
This time she would dare herself.
The soft scent of late roses drifted from the edge of the garden. The odor tickled her nose and she stopped, breathing more fully. She would tell Colton the truth, bare her soul to him, and then she would leave.
And then she would be free.
She blew out a long slow breath.
Already she felt lighter. She had held on to this game for far too long.
It was time to let it go.
She almost began to skip. She could do this, she could.
It would be difficult. Even the thought of him had her body tingling and wanting, but she could control her body. Perhaps he would not disappoint her. She hardly let herself have the hope, but it drifted about, refusing to be put down.
And if he did disappoint her? Her feet slowed. Her chest grew pinched.
It would be better to know than to live in this land of doubt.
Yet…her feet slowed again. Could she really bear to live without him? When she’d decided to grant him her body, it had not occurred to her that she would feel this way, that in granting him the privilege of touching her, of controlling her wants and desires, she was granting him so much more. And they had not even had true marital relations.
Her body warmed at the thought, a deep ache growing. What would it be like to feel his touch, to rub her skin against his, to feel him between her legs, to…?
No. She could overcome these thoughts, overcome her feelings.
She would not allow herself to remain in love….Had she actually just thought that? In love. In love.
She was not in love with Colton. She couldn’t be.
He’d taken her to that forbidden place, let her feel things she’d never dreamed of, allowed her to trust in him, to let herself go. With him she had found freedom.
That was it. She loved freedom. She loved risk. She didn’t love Colton.
Her mind filled with his smiling eyes, with his laugh, with the sense of safety that surrounded him, of how he…
She reached the folly and strode up the couple of steps. Her mind filled with further images—of him at the folly; of him standing before her, proud and strong; of him reaching for his flap; of the desire she’d felt as she…
Angela walked to the stone bench and sat, taking Colton’s place. She leaned back against the cold stone and let her mind wander, let herself remember. Her knees could still feel the cold that had seeped through the tarp. Her arms could remember the ache of being bound tight, of the security of that bond. Her eyes could remember the beauty
that was Colton.
But mostly she remembered her feelings of trust.
How could she trust him enough to have done that but not trust him further?
Only.
Only.
Only.
Her thoughts ran in circles. Trust and betrayal. And trust again.
Light peeked from behind, the first rays hitting the lake and glittering back like a field of stars. It was dawn.
—
Was she coming? Colton stared around the small cabin. So simple. So plain. So deceptive.
It was the only place at home he’d ever allowed himself to play, and then only with a few very select houseguests. Nobody local had ever come here. He looked at the dark-wood bed, its four posts rising high. A tall set of drawers stood to one side and a wardrobe to the other. The pieces were sparse but still more than one would expect in such a rustic cabin. It could not in truth be called a hunting cabin. It was far too close to the main house, but his father had sometimes spent the night here when he wished for calm and quiet. Of course, the furnishings had been a little different in those days.
Colton grinned to himself. What did he know of what his father had done here? The older he grew, the more he realized how little one man knew about another.
Was she coming?
He walked to the door and threw it open, glancing up at the sky. The night was not as thick as it had been ten minutes ago. Dawn was coming, if it was not already here.
Was she coming?
Had she felt the implied dare in his note? And even if she had not—was she coming simply because she wanted to?
Perhaps he should have talked to her in person, rather than depending on the note, but one could not say no directly to such a note. Yes, she might not come, but that could be for a dozen reasons. She might simply have overslept.
It would not be a definite no.
If she did not come, he would have to find another way to get her alone, another way to persuade her that they must wed. He didn’t know when it had become such a certainty in his mind, but he could no longer imagine any other outcome.
A week ago he could not actually imagine marriage to anyone, and now he was determined. Yes, he’d thought he’d wanted marriage before, but he had always balked at its actuality. Now there was no other choice—and not merely because of Thorton. Thorton could be dealt with, no matter what Angela’s answer. But it was hard to imagine his life without Angela at his side.
She would be his bride, and he would do whatever was necessary to persuade her.
God, he hoped that she came.
That she gave him one more chance to persuade her that things could be right between them.
Almost as if his thoughts had drawn her, he heard the first subtle crunch of leaves far down the path.
He stepped into the cabin but did not shut the door. He walked to the far side, setting himself in shadow. The few candles on the table would light her first, let him see her expression, leave her vulnerable, while he stayed back.
He heard her stop a few feet from the house, then the crackle of the leaves moved away, the sound growing slightly more distant. He almost moved forward, but the sound stopped again. And then he heard her steady step, firm and fast as she returned. Finally she stood in the door, the candle flame lighting her face even as the first full rays of the sun lit her from behind, haloing the curls that had worked loose from her braid.
She glanced about, not seeing him; a light frown marred her forehead, and then she caught sight of his boots. Her eyes dropped to the floor and then moved up, fast, to his face, and then down again more slowly. Her feet took a step forward and she closed the door behind her.
“You came,” he said, although the words seemed needless.
“Did you doubt?”
“How could I not?”
“I thought you felt you knew me well. You knew your note would leave me little choice.”
He smiled at the reluctance in her tone. “Now, if I said that I dared you to come—then I gather you would have had no choice but to come.”
“Have you been talking to Bliss?”
“Duldon.”
“Unfortunately, he is correct. I do hate to back down when challenged. And you knew that note was a challenge—even if it was not explicitly stated.”
He nodded his understanding. “And am I not a challenge? Yet you have not said yes.”
“You are most definitely a challenge, but I am not sure that you are a risk I can take. I have spent the whole night debating with myself.”
“What is the difference between a risk and a dare?”
She pulled in a deep breath, her breasts tight against the cotton of her dress. “I am not sure that I know, but I know that the costs of saying yes may be too great.”
“How so?” He stepped forward, letting the light fall on his face.
Her eyes caught his and held. “I came so determined to try to explain the full truth, but now I find that I have not the words.”
He smiled. “I have never known you to be at a loss for words.”
She smiled back, but it did not reach her eyes. “I normally am not, but around you I find everything changes.”
“Then say yes.”
“Because we will muddle along well together?”
“You know it is more than that.”
“Ah, yes. You desire me, desire what I am willing to do.”
“I do not deny that, but more than anything I desire your pleasure, the pleasure you take in being willing to do those things. I even enjoy when you resist me. I greatly enjoy trying to persuade you—and I am not simply talking of the bedchamber.”
“And what of everything else?”
Running his fingers through his hair, he waited a moment and then spoke. “That is the muddling you spoke of. I enjoy your company, Angela. I would not have asked you to marry me if I did not wish to sit to dinner with you for the rest of my life. I would not have asked you if I did not wish to wake up with you in the morning. I know that is not as romantic as you would wish, but it is true.”
Now it was her turn to be silent.
“Can that not be enough?” he asked.
“Is it enough for you?”
“I rather think it is.” As long as it was with her.
She turned from him, placed a hand on the door’s handle, and he briefly thought she would leave, but instead she just leaned forward, resting her head against the wood. Her shoulders were high and tense, and he wanted to move forward to rub and ease them.
Her ribs expanded and then fell back. She pushed herself away from the wall and turned, her face still and solemn. “I wish it were enough for me, but I don’t think it is. I do want more. Yes, I too could sit with you every night and wake with you every morning, but I fear I would freeze to death without true affection between us. I have come to care for you too much. You could hurt me too easily, destroy me. I cannot take that risk. I do not wish to be destroyed.”
“What if I dare you?”
Did she actually pale? Perhaps it was only a trick of the light.
“Don’t.” Her voice was very soft.
Would she really give in just because he dared her? He could not believe it, but it seemed underhanded in any case. “I would not.”
She nodded. “Thank you.” Her gaze left him and wandered about the room. She focused on the great bed. He watched her throat move—a large gulp. “I thought you wanted to talk.”
“I do.”
“And that is why you chose to meet in a room with the largest bed I have ever seen.”
Well, he could not deny that the bed had entered into his thoughts, but…“I have already proved that a bed is not necessary if that is what I want.”
She did not look convinced.
“I do wish to talk,” he stated.
“Perhaps, but that is not all you want.”
“I am a man.”
Her face grew still. “And being a man, if there is a bed your thoughts automatically turn to sex.”
“It does not require a bed.”
Her lips pinched tight. She did not appreciate his humor. “And where the mind goes, the body follows.”
“If possible.”
“That is why I cannot marry you.”
He was losing patience. Stepping forward, he placed a hand on each of her shoulders, relishing the velvet of her skin.
Her eyes darkened and a puff of air slipped through her parted lips.
He had her; now to push his advantage.
He moved closer yet, until only a handbreadth separated them. “I do not consider it bad that when I see you my thoughts turn to all the delicious things I would like to do to you.” He stroked his fingers down her shoulders and along her clavicles, slipping the tips beneath the edge of her dress.
A slight shiver took her. Her lips parted farther. Another swallow.
He leaned forward, taking in the fresh lemon scent of her hair.
And then suddenly she was stepping back, pulling away. “No, I don’t object to your thinking of what you would like to do to me. What I object to is that I imagine you are the same with any woman. You want me now, but what about tomorrow or when you are back in Town and some opera dancer catches your fancy. I thought I could live with it. I tried to make myself believe that it was the way of life, but it is too much. Trying to accept it changes me. I cannot be myself and live with knowing you are with another.”
What was she talking about? He’d never given her reason to have such doubts. “When have I ever given you reason to think that I wanted anyone but you? Have you seen my eyes follow another woman when you are near?”
“And you just happened to be so acquainted with Madame Rouge’s? Or are you going to pretend it was your first time there?”
“Clearly that was not the case. I have not pretended that I do not have experience in these matters, but I do not understand why that is relevant now or what it has to do with you marrying me. You knew all this before.”
She turned and walked away, coming to stop before the window. It was almost full light now. “Yes, but I had not thought about it deeply—and somehow I imagined it would be different when I married. Perhaps if you loved me I would still believe it.”