Page 65 of Pride: The Rogue
The hungry, honest sounds of Livian’s desperate desire which Latimer had swallowed and consumed.
Then, Livian lifted her fingers and gave Latimer a happy wave.
With a rapidly rising hungering, and some other sensation he couldn’t pinpoint on account he’d never before felt, stirred inside his chest.
A powerfully potent wave of emotion kept Livian paralyzed.
She was not well, and never again would she be.
For, until she drew her last breath, the sight of Lachlan conversing so easily with the little girl in breeches would forever live in her mind.
That’d also been part of the great dream she’d carried but inevitably would forsake upon the completion of her plans to marry.
Lachlan started over to her.
Livian’s throat swelled. She made herself shove aside regrets over what would never be.
He is still here.
She’d thought she would never see him again.
As she’d arisen early and gone about her morning ablutions, all the while, she’d continued to look Latimer’s way.
He’d lain upon his back, with his right arm flung across his forehead; he’d emitted the occasional, slight and quiet, snore.
She’d hoped he’d awake so she could speak with him once more, but had been equally comforted in knowing he found rest which he clearly deserved.
But he was still here.
A pervasive, radiant, warmth flooded her chest.
Then, Latimer reached her.
Livian’s heartbeat tripled. She tipped her head back to meet his bemused gaze.
“We meet again, darlin’,” he murmured.
“We meet again,” she confirmed.
They smiled at the same time, and somehow that synchronal happening carried with it an almost greater intimacy than being in his arms.
Almost.
“I thought you’d have been gone by now, darlin’,” he remarked.
“Yes. Well…” Alas, Mr. Dryver’s inspection of their carriage and the conditions revealed it would be far quicker for him to return with the other conveyance. As such, he’d set out on horseback some hours ago.
Lachlan looked around the courtyard. Frown lines appeared in his brow; a brow far nobler than any lord she’d ever met.
Before he could ask any questions, Livian cleared her throat. “I trust you are also on your way,” she said needlessly, giventhe pack strapped to his back and in the other bag he set down beside him.
“Aye.”
Neither of them spoke.
For Livian, profound, pained regret kept her from being the one to put their time together to its final and inevitable end.
Lachlan drifted a step closer and glided his gaze over her face. He froze. His black lashes dipped.
