Page 33 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
‘Anything between us will hurt me, because it will hurt my family.’
‘But what if it hurts us more to be kept apart?’
‘There is no us, Lord Framlington.’
His eyes shone with condescending humour. ‘Must I be set back so far? Please call me Drew.’
‘You have not been set back at all. There is simply no going forward. Our?—’
‘Affair…’ He’d leaned forward as he’d whispered the word. His voice vibrated through her nerves.
She shook her head. ‘Hardly that, but whatever it is. Was. It is over – and was always folly. I cannot hurt my family.’
‘Folly? I have heard it said that we all have a soulmate. If I am yours – if we are each other’s – would you throw that away because your family did not like the man of your heart and hurt me? Oughtn’t I be higher in your heart – your future husband. Families rear us, then they are meant to become second in our lives.’
His words struck her like a slap.If I am yours – if we are each other’s – would you throw that away because your family did not like the man of your heart and hurt me?
* * *
That was bloody poetic of him. Where the hell had those words come from? Drew would be spouting this drivel as second nature soon. But he would do anything to win her, including prattling, idiotic, poetic words.
The dance separated them for several movements. But his gaze clung to her. She was intoxicatingly beautiful. Whenever he looked at her a jolt sparked in his chest as well as his groin. His thoughts were forever transfixed by this woman, whether he was in her proximity or not. He had to win her. He refused to accept her rejection of him.
He’d chosen her last season. Nearly a whole year had already passed, and he would not wait another year. He had no intention of letting her slip through his fingers.
He needed her and not simply for her money.
Aware his gaze had hardened to glaring, when the dance returned her to him, he whispered coarsely, ‘Am I not good enough for you?’ That was the gut punch. Apart from his friends, no one in this room considered him their equal. It sickened him to believe she might think the same.
Her lips parted. They drew his gaze for a moment. If they were alone, he would take her into his arms, kiss her and never let her go. She was his. She just did not know it yet. ‘You are meant for me. Why can you not see it?’ Forget the drivel about souls and fate and love, this much was true. She was the only woman he would be happy with.
Her lips pursed.
‘I tried to tell you how I felt in that letter?—’
Her fingertip grazed his lips as she passed him in a turn, saying,be silent.
Good God!Did she not know he would give anything to have her? The problem was, he only had himself to give.
‘I read your letter, I know what it said.’
Drew’s heart missed a beat. The look in her eyes spoke of sympathy. Did it mean there was hope?
‘Write to me,’ he urged. ‘I will speak to you when I can, but in the meantime write.’ The orchestra slowed, the dance coming to an end.
‘I do not have your address,’ she said as the dancers around them bowed and curtsied in parting.
He bowed and captured her fingers, lifted her hand to kiss her glove, and as he did so, he slid the small, folded piece of paper he’d written his address on into the wrist of her glove.
‘Now you do,’ he said as he straightened and let her hand fall. Then he walked away.
* * *
Mary remained in the middle of the ballroom, her heartbeat ringing in her ears, as Lord Framlington, Drew, returned to his friends.
‘Miss Marlow.’ The man who had led her into the dance, Lord Brooke, offered his arm. ‘Shall I return you to your family?’
Her hand felt numb as she rested it on his coat sleeve.
