Page 28 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘I did not hurt you,’ he insisted.
She stepped away. This was the end. ‘I did not say you did, but I cannot do this. I will not meet you again. I won’t hurt my family. I cannot keep betraying their trust.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’ he shouted.
‘I came to tell you it has to stop.’
‘If that was your intent, you took your time saying so. You came to be made love to,’ he growled.
Mary held up a hand, warning him to stay away. ‘Love has nothing to do with this. I am no fool either, Lord Framlington. You may convince me you are attracted to me but you will not persuade me this has anything to do with love.’
At least not on your part.
That was the saddest thing, because she knew now she loved him. She had probably fallen at the first sight of him.
* * *
Moonlight broke through the clouds and caught in Mary’s eyes.
Pain shone there.
He’d said he would not hurt her, but he could see he had. He thought of Caro and himself as children. The only time when perhaps he could compare his feelings to understand Mary’s, when he had cared more deeply for someone other than himself. It had always hurt more to see Caro beaten than being beaten himself.
Damn, he was unused to women with a heart – a woman who knew love. A woman who’d been surrounded by it her entire life.
His error glared him in the face. He should not have wooed her with passion. It was not her body he had to persuade – it was her heart. She wanted to be loved. Of course she did.
‘Andrew,’ he stated bluntly. Why had he given her his full name? He always introduced himself as Drew.
Her chin tilted higher, reminding him of her brother’s stubborn countenance.
How the hell do I make you love me?
‘What?’ Her tone rang sharp.
She did not even know his name. He’d wooed her physically and not even let her in so far as to tell her his name.
His voice lowered to a calmer pitch. ‘My name is Andrew, although most people call me Drew. I think you should stop calling me Lord Framlington.’
She looked confused. Perhaps she also realised how many favours she had allowed him without even knowing his name.
‘Would you say it?’ His voice held the undercurrent of the desperation humming in his blood. He could not let her walk away. Everything hung on him winning her. The idea had fermented in his head for so long, he could not choose anyone else, not now. He could not bear to be with anyone but her.
She took a breath. ‘Andrew. Though, Drew suits you better. It has a dangerous ring to it.’
A fist gripped hard and firm in his gut, and warmth seared in his chest.
‘You deem me dangerous… I’m not the devil, Mary, just a man. A man who wants you to be his wife and wake up in his bed every morning. And when we retire each night I’ll make love to you, slowly and thoroughly, so you will know it is not a marriage solely for money.’
Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. But he knew he could not progress. He needed to regroup and think of a new strategy. One that would win her heart.
Damn. He knew nothing about love.
But if she came to love him, he’d rejoice. It was what he wanted – a faithful, committed wife. He had no idea how Mary would fare once they were wed, but surely if she loved him it could not go awry.
‘If you need to be loved, I will love you, I swear it. I am half in love with you already.’ It was surely true, the emotions inside him were a turmoil of desperation, need and hope.
Her eyes turned cold. ‘Or half in love with my dowry.’
