Page 35 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
Still, if she was easily caught, he would be bored of her in weeks. No, her determination to withstand him only bore out his belief that she was the woman for him. Her strength of character was admirable.
Returning home, he rewrote the letter his friends had constructed in their cups last night, and as he reached its end found his own words flowing from the quill, a diatribe falling from his mind onto the paper as words had come to him last night while they danced. He blotted the ink briskly then folded the paper before he lost the courage to include his own words and sealed it with wax.
He found a young lad he trusted in the street and sent the boy off to deliver it.
* * *
Mary was sitting in the family drawing room, alone, reading. Her mother and father, John and Kate had taken the children to Hyde Park. Having declined their invitation to accompany them, she had no chaperon with her. Her father had bidden Mr Finch to say no one was at home if anyone called.
‘Miss Marlow.’ Finch stood in the room, balancing the silver tray on his hand.
‘A letter?’
‘Yes, miss.’ When he bowed, offering it, Mary saw Drew’s handwriting and her wicked heart leapt with joy.
She broke the seal as soon as Finch left the room.
The letter began with another poem, commending the extreme good nature of her soul, and then gushing about her charm and eloquence.
She smiled; Lord Brooke had been telling tales.
The following paragraphs spoke of commitment, of lifelong happiness. They were only words. They meant little in reality.
But the last paragraph… The strokes of Drew’s writing seemed somehow sharper, and the words on the page lifted out with feeling.
My Mary, you are, you know, mine. You always will be, accept me or not. You and I are meant to be one, half to become whole. Put us together, Mary, darling, make us one, a single being. I want you. I cannot say I love you, not yet, I do not even know what on earth love is, but I do know that I cannot sleep for thinking of you, or avoid dreaming of you. I think of you and I lose my breath. I see you and my heart begins to pound. I hear you and my spirit wants to sing. I am yours, Mary. Be mine. I cannot walk away. I will not.
Think of the possibilities. If this is love? If this is our only chance? If we are meant to be, would you throw that away? Throw me away?
Do not! Let us be.
Yours truly,
D
She could hear the words in her mind, as if he were here reading them to her.
She’d told him many times she barely knew him; now it felt as if she’d known him all her life. Perhaps it was true – he was meant for her.
A sigh slipped past her lips. If she did not agree soon, he would marry someone else. He could not live without money forever.
Her gaze drifted to the window. Birdsong permeated the glass. She did not want to marry someone else. She sighed again. She had thought that last night, and yet not thought about what he would do… She did not want him to marry anyone else. She could not watch him with a wife.
Why did her heart favour a forbidden man? She had no idea how to break free.I do not want to be free. I want to be his wife.She did not see a bad man in his eyes.
John would be furious if she chose Drew. Her father and mother would be disappointed. But they would not disown her. They would forgive her, because they loved her.
She folded the letter and took it to her room. There, she searched out his address. Then sat at her writing desk.
The quill hovered over the paper. She would not make promises. But could she have her family and Drew? Would he love her? How could she bear to hurt her parents, though? Yet, how could she bear it if Drew married someone else? She began to write.
Make me believe, if you wish.You make us be.Prove that I may trust your words.Prove that you will love me and not hurt me.
She wrote no more. She could not think of anything else to say. His ego was too big to offer him compliments. The rogue would only bask in them.
She folded the letter, reached for the wax, melted a little and sealed it.
She smiled when she rose from the desk.
