Page 26 of A Rogue's Rules for Seduction
Interesting that Willa wanted to keep her involvement a secret.
He exhaled. Damn, what a maze the human heart was, with terrifying vulnerability at the center of the labyrinth. Would it devour you before you could kill it? Or maybe there was another choice, where both you and the monster lived side by side, until it was no longer monstrous.
Chapter 9
“Don’t care for the cook on the venison?” Finn asked Willa.
“What’s that?” She frowned at her brother, seated beside her at dinner.
“You’restabbingthat piece of meat,” Finn answered, “and since I’m certain it’s already dead, I can only assume the dish has somehow offended you.”
“The food’s fine.” To prove it, she ate a piece of venison, though she couldn’t really taste it.
She glanced down the table, toward where Dom sat. It wouldn’t be fair to fault him for looking so alluring and severe in his evening clothes. Even so, the hike around the island had been strenuous, wearing her out like a flimsy shoe, and she’d been groggy from her nap afterward, barely collecting herself enough to bathe and dress before the meal.
Yet Dom looked as handsome and dangerous as a hawk as he conversed with Lady Shipton at the other end of the long dining table, and Willaslightly resented the attractive older woman for being the lucky focus of his attention.
Lady Shipton reached out and placed her hand on Dom’s sleeve, laughing at something he said. While Dom didn’t laugh, he did give one of his heart-stopping half smiles that hitched up the corner of his mouth, which made Lady Shipton bat her eyelashes at him.
“Are yousureyou don’t have a grudge against your dinner?” Finn asked. “You’re assaulting it again.”
“He’s got every right to,” Willa muttered.
“Right to what?” her brother pressed. He followed her gaze down the table, to Dom and the marchioness. “Ah.”
“That is to say,” Willa went on, jabbing her fork forcefully into a roast potato, “Idon’t want him. So, she’s welcome to him.”
“If you say so,” Finn said slowly. “Though, I might add, you’re turning that potato into mash.”
She lapsed into a moody silence. It really was no business of hers, whom Dom flirted with. She ought to do the same, but when she looked around the table at the handsome men in attendance, a sullen restlessness clouded through her, and her gaze kept turning to Dom.
When the meal was over, everyone rose from the table, but when the guests moved toward the parlor, she walked in another direction.
“I’m going to the conservatory,” she announcedto no one in particular. No one followed her when she left—which was fine. Company would only annoy her.
According to Mr. Longbridge, the conservatory was a relatively recent addition, with massive glass walls that sheltered a collection of plants as well as some fruit-bearing trees. A few torches burned, casting bright reflections around her and gleaming on the leaves of the well-tended greenery. She moved up and down the rows, and drew the humid air into her lungs as she tried to banish how attractive Dom and Lady Shipton looked together.
Of course, the longer Willa hid in the conservatory, the more time he and the marchioness had to get cozy with each other.
Willa strode from the glass-lined expanse. And drew up short when she found Dom seated at one of the two chairs positioned at the entrance to the conservatory.
His long legs were stretched out in front of him, and he held a ceramic bowl. His gaze was fixed on her as he spooned something from the bowl into his mouth.
“Want a bite?” he asked casually, as if he hadn’t completely caught her by surprise.
She took a tentative step forward and peered into the bowl. “Blaeberries. Ripe ones,” she added, astonished.
“Like you said, they were ripening on the otherside of the island.” He had another mouthful of berries, which were topped with softly whipped cream.
“That’s where you went when you left the group after the picnic.” She couldn’t have been more astounded if he’d suddenly grown a pair of raven’s wings and taken flight. Dom, city born and bred, had used her advice to forage berries.
“They’re delicious.” He hooked a foot into the other chair and dragged it closer, then pulled a spoon from his coat pocket and held it out.
A clear invitation.
“Don’t you want to share them with Lady Shipton?” Willa asked.
“Only you,” he answered, voice low, and a tremor moved through her.
