Page 43 of The Virgin in the Rake's Bed
“To see me?” he asked, as the dancing came to an end.
“To practice my skills of seduction,” she replied, raising her eyebrows, and he slipped his hand into hers.
“Might we go somewhere more private?” he asked, and her heart skipped a beat at the thought of that second lesson they had so enjoyed together.
“There is a library here,” she whispered, and the two of them slipped out of the ballroom and along a corridor which Catherine knew led to the library.
The library was empty, and Ian closed the door behind them, drawing the catch across so they might be alone. It was dark now, a fire blazing in the hearth, and candles lit in sconces around the room, casting their shadowy light across the books.
“You look very beautiful this evening, Catherine,” he said, and Catherine blushed.
“I visited the modiste with Samantha. We both have new dresses,” she replied, and Ian laughed.
“And what possible use could Samantha have for a new dress? She does not need to attract or is her husband waning?” he asked.
Catherine had no doubt that Samantha and Norman were as in love as on the day they were married, if not more so, and she told him as much, causing Ian to smile.
“I am merely teasing you, Catherine. But you, you have caught the eye of every man in the room, I am sure of it,” he said.
“But which of these eligible men should I approach?” she asked.
She was teasing him, for she knew it would make him jealous to think of her in the company of other men, and she allowed the words to hang in the air, an invitation for him to make his move, if that were his intention.
“I think they all lack merit,” he replied, and she smiled.
“You do not think a lord or a captain, or a man of wealth and business, or a member of parliament is right for me? But surely one of them will rescue me from the Earl of Westwood,” she said.
“Perhaps one would, but would he really be any different? Would you not be his trophy? The fruits of his supposed labors?” he asked.
“Not if the seduction were mine. That is why I ask you again which one I should approach next?” she asked, still dangling the possibility in front of him.
She was playing a game, they both were. The entire thing was a game, but one with serious consequences. Her feelings for him were growing stronger by the moment, and she was convinced his own for her were, too. But something still held him back. Perhaps the memory of Cassandra, or the thought that once again he could be hurt. He looked uncomfortable.
“I do not think you should approach any of them. None of them could match a woman like you, not for wit or charm or conversation or intelligence. There is not a man in that ballroom worthy of you,” he said, and Catherine’s heart began to beat faster, a shiver running through her.
“One of them knew of our betrothal. He thought it odd I should be looking elsewhere,” she said, and Ian blushed.
“You need not look elsewhere. assuredly you need not. You are betrothed to me and… well, I love you,” he said, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.
The force of his words – though longed for – caused her immense surprise. She had not expected him to be so forward in his declaration. It was a feeling she shared, one she could not deny, but to hear him express those words, too, was quite remarkable, and she gasped, her eyes wide, delight spreading over her face.
“No ruse?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“I have no need to pretend such a thing. I mean it, Catherine. I am in love with you, and there is no point in denying,” he replied, taking her in his arms and bringing his lips to hers in a kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“What made you change your mind?” Catherine asked, as their lips parted, and she gazed up at him with a smile.
“I thought about it a great deal. I agonized over it, Catherine. You know I was hurt in the past, and one does not simply forget such hurt,” he said, still with his arms around her.
“But I am not Cassandra,” she said, and he nodded.
“I know that. You are nothing like her. You could be nothing like her. I realize that now, I realize I was placing a judgement on all the fairer sex, when in truth it was only Cassandra who broke my heart in such a way. Why should I suffer by my own self-imposed rules? They bring me nothing but heartache, and my feelings for your almost overwhelmed me. I want no ruse in our betrothal, Catherine, I want you,” he said, “but I must know, do you feel the same way for me?” and Catherine gave a deep sigh, her despair at last giving way to hope.
She had imagined this moment, and almost acted on it. She had been so close to telling him she loved him, and glad she had not done so after his strange behavior during their last meeting. But her feelings for him had not changed, they had grown stronger, and it seemed so had his for her.
“I do feel the same. I love you, too. What began as a ruse soon became something far more. I could barely control my feelings for you. I love you, Ian, and I want this betrothal to be real. Forget these and the sorrow they have caused you. All that matters is you and I were meant to be together. Surely it was no chance encounter in the library of the Somerset residence, and here we are again, another library, and another moment,” she said.
