Page 54 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
How long would it be before she was used to being constantly in his company?
She cut herself a slice of bread. When she lifted it to her plate, she caught him watching her. The roguish glint in his eyes said he was laughing at her, perhaps because she was still blushing from her encounter with the maid. ‘You are very bad,’ she said. ‘You do not care what anyone thinks, do you?’
‘And you adore me for it, it is what enchants you.’
‘I take bad back, you are devilish.’ It was a joke, but when he had that dangerous look in his eyes a part of her did fear he could be wicked.
Steel gripped at his jaw, as it had done when he’d parted from his horses. ‘I will take that as a compliment. All women love a rogue, and the devil is one better.’
‘The devil is one worse.’ She wished she had not said it. It made his eyes even darker.
‘Should I become an angel when we are wed?’
Why did his words sound bitter?
Turmoil spun through her head as Mary searched for something to say quickly to redeem the conversation. She was not sure why it had become a conflict. ‘Well, the devil is a fallen angel… Perhaps there is hope for you yet…’
A strange expression passed across his face. A pained expression. She reached across the table and lay her hand over his. He pulled away; he did not care for her comfort.
She cut herself a wedge of cheese and changed the subject. ‘Tell me what you were like as a child.’
A callous-sounding laugh answered her as he lifted a slice of cold ham to his plate. ‘When I was a child I behaved so badly the servants removed the “an” from my name and cut it short with a capital “D” for devil.’ He picked up his knife and fork. ‘To save them having to say, “you devil, Master Andrew”. Instead, they yelled “D-rew”, and the name stuck. Even my mother uses it.’
He found the story amusing.
She found it sad.
‘How many brothers and sisters do you have?’ She skewered a piece of the pie with her fork.
‘I have three brothers and two sisters.’ He filled his mouth with ham.
‘Are they all married?’ She cut a smaller forkful and ate too.
He swallowed. ‘Two of my brothers are not.’
‘But you are not close to them, you said…’
He set his knife and fork down. ‘No, Mary, I am not.’ He reached for bread.
‘I cannot imagine that. I have always looked up to John. Our entire generation admires him, my cousins too. Robbie is the brother I am closest to, though. He is eighteen months younger than me. We were thick as thieves until he went to school. When he hears I am married he will hate it that I did not write and tell him what I planned.’
‘Is he eighteen now, then? That is an awkward age. Most young men have an unrealistic view of the world.’
‘Did you?’
His gaze met hers as he swallowed a mouthful. ‘I was different, I had a very real view.’
‘Why?’
‘Believe me, you do not want to know.’ There was that hard look in his eyes, as he ate more. It warned her away from the subject. He swallowed. ‘If you had told your brother about us he would have been torn between whether to tell your parents or tackle me himself. I doubt he would have been happy for you…’
She changed the subject, another forkful hovering in front of her lips. ‘Tell me what you do with your days in town.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘I thought by eloping I was avoiding an interview with your father…’
His words stung. ‘I am marrying you – I need to know more about you than the colour of your eyes and that you care for your horses.’
‘The colour of my eyes? You like them then?’ His eyes lit up now, dancing with deviltry.
