Page 89 of Pride: The Rogue
“Goodbye, sweetheart.”
Tears pricked her eyes, and she swiftly averted her gaze, cringing at the idea of Lachlan seeing them—and worse, knowing the reason for her misery.
Sweetheart. Her heart would never not sing just even remembering the husky, gravelly way he spoke that endearment to her and for her.
“Goodbye,” she said softly.
He moved his gaze over her face all the while looking as if he wished to say more. Without another word, he left.
Unmoving, Livian stared at the panel.
This is for the best.In fact, it would have been best had he left earlier in the day. Whatever madness raged between them,could not be explained, but of a certainty, there could never be a relationship with Lachlan.
Why, as it was, she had a future bridegroom awaiting her.
And Lachlan would go…see to whatever business required he make the journey to Kent in the godforsaken heart of winter.
Why, if that weren’t yet another reminder, she and he were nothing more than strangers.
Tomorrow, they would part ways. Livian would go off to meet—and marry—some stuffy, staid, pompous lord. That unknown-still-for-now gentleman would be the one to kiss her and touch her and do all the wondrous things Lachlan had done to her.
Except, it wouldn’t be at all the same. That cold, proper, unfeeling lord would lay between Livian’s legs and bed her with the sole intent of getting an heir on her.
Bile burned her throat. Closing her eyes, she swallowed frantically to keep from tossing up the contents of her stomach.
There would only be Lachlan Latimer. Long after he’d gone, the memory of his arms would live in her heart, mind, and soul. She wanted the memory of more than just his touch and kiss.
I want all of him.
Livian hugged her arms tighter around her middle, fighting the rising tide of sorrow, anger, and regret. Before she let logic rear its head and talk her out of it, she yanked the door open and raced outside.
Livian staggered to a stop.
Outside her room, with his legs stretched across the hall floor, sat Lachlan.
“Darlin’?” he asked, coming quickly to his feet. “Is everything all—”
“I want you to spend the night with me,” she blurted.
Lachlan frowned. “I’ll be right here,” he promised, gesturing to the place where he’d set himself up as her sentry.
My protector.
My guard.
My love.
“N-No.” She cleared her throat. “Forgive m-me. I know w-what we did earlier was wrong, and this…that is, what I’m asking…what I’mtryingto ask, is even more s-scandalous. I just—”
Lachlan stood and brought his lips close to hers, and she gasped.
He cupped Livian by the nape; his hand spanned the entire width of her neck. A giant of a man, he could snap her like a twig. And yet, he handled her with an infinite tenderness, stroking the pad of his thumb over the spot where her pulse pounded for him. That juxtaposition stirred a familiar ache between her legs.
Wide-eyed, she stared at Lachlan.
“It’s all right if you wanted my embrace then, darlin’,” he said roughly; his powerful gaze pierced her soul. “There’s no shame in that.”
His hold upon Livian was so unwaveringly strong and possessive, it unleashed a fluttering within her belly, like that of a thousand butterflies flapping their wings as one.
