Page 117 of Pride: The Rogue
Confounded, she just stared at this man who owned her heart.
How was it possible he should be so…so…unconcerned? Alternately, Livian wanted to rail and beat her chest, rage and pound at his broad, powerful one…and weep enough tears to fill the world’s oceans.
His grin slipped into a full frown. “Unhappy to see me, darlin’?”
“…I know Mr. Latimer desires me…”
Livian eyed him sadly. “Is that what you believe, Lachlan?” she asked softly.
Perhaps it was better, after all, that there wasn’t to be a future between them. Not when he knew her so little as to thinkthat.
Lachlan quirked one corner of his mouth in a boyish grin. “Well, you certainly don’t look happy, darlin’.”
There it was again, that endearment he had for her, uttered in that bold, assertive way.
Or maybe it wasn’t just for her.
She briefly closed her eyes. Maybe he’d spoken so to all his previous lovers, and one day would, or maybe already did, his future wife?
She found Lachlan studying her with concern and some other emotion she couldn’t name.
“Sweetheart,” he said gruffly and reached for her.
Recoiling, Livian rushed around the other side of the keyboard and put the enormous instrument between them.
Shock replaced Lachlan’s earlier lightness. “You think I’m going to hurt you, Livian?”
“Do I…?” Her words trailed off and she shook her head. “You already did.”
Had she brought a knife down upon his chest, he couldn’t have appeared more gutted.
“What are you talking about, love?”
Love? A madness-tinged giggle bubbled past her lips.
Then, understanding lit his dark eyes.
“Because I didn’t say goodbye,” he grunted.
Thank Godthatwas the conclusion he’d reached and not the actual one which would shred the last bit of her pride.
“I just thought…” he continued when she didn’t speak, “because you left the same way I thought…”
Tears burned her eyes. “You thoughtwhat?” she entreated, desperately trying to understand.
“You didn’t like goodbyes, either, darlin’,” he said, his voice pained as she’d never heard.
She didn’t like goodbyes to anyone.
Parting from this man had left a gaping hole in her heart that’d never properly heal.
“You shouldn’t be here with me, Lachlan,” she said woodenly. “The duchess,” his future wife, “her guests…”
Lachlan traveled an impenetrable gaze over her face. “You want me to leave?”
She nearly cackled like the madwoman love had turned her into.
“Are you to bemarried?” Livian made herself ask.
