Page 81 of Deceiving an Earl
She was talking with a group of women but stopped suddenly, raised her head; their gazes clashed and held, and it was as if the room and all its occupants disappeared and it was just the two of them. Nothing else mattered.
She turned, said something to her companions, and hurried away.
Like a panther stalking its prey, Oliver followed, his head telling him to stop, to leave it alone, but his thumping heart and sweating hands were telling him something else, and he followed their lead instead of his rational side.
He almost missed her darting down a deserted hallway and caught only the edge of her skirt as it swooped around a corner. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he followed. There were many doors, all closed, and he began opening them one by one until he found her on the fourth try, in a darkened sitting room.
She was standing by the window, clutching the drapery, the moon highlighting her cheekbones and her pale skin and turning her dark hair nearly blue.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” she said, not looking at him.
“Neither should you.” He closed the door quietly behind him and slowly walked toward her.
She turned to face him, still clutching the drapery as if she would fall if she let go. Her knuckles were white.
They faced each other, so many words between them, yet silence hanging heavy.
“You need to leave,” she whispered.
“I can’t. I can’t seem to let you go, no matter how hard I try. You never leave my mind.”
“Don’t do this.”
“What am I doing but being honest?”
She turned her head away and swallowed, and he could see her eyes shimmering. Were those tears? Or was it his hope, wishing they were tears?
“Do you love him?” he asked.
“Oliver.”
“Tell me you love him. Convince me you love him, and I will walk out of here and never speak to you again.”
She closed her eyes, and her chin trembled. He waited one heartbeat, two heartbeats, three heartbeats.
“You have to leave. You have to leave me alone and never approach me again.”
“Tell me you love him.”
“Damn you.” The words were said so softly he almost missed them.
“If you don’t love him, why are you marrying him?”
“There are things you will never know. Things I can never tell you. But you have to trust me that this is the right thing to do.”
He didn’t understand what she was trying to say. And he was angry that she would marry a man she didn’t love.
“I told you once, a long time ago, that you could trust me with anything. I told you I would take care of you no matter what.”
She dipped her head, and he saw the tears shimmering on her cheeks.
“I would protect you with my life, Ellen. You can trust me with your secrets.”
She shook her head and raised her chin to look out the window again. “You need to go, Oliver.”
“This is just like Fieldhurst,” he said bitterly. “Why do you insist on marrying men you don’t love?”Why do you insist on choosing other men over me?
“It’s complicated.”
