Page 47 of The Reckless Love of an Heir
But she could not fall in love with him.
Yet nothing within her wished to stop.
He sighed out a breath into her mouth, then broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers. He breathed heavily as his fingers gently stroked the back of her neck.
He had brought her here to talk, but not spoken bar saying her name, and telling her she was beautiful.
If she said anything it ought to be to tell him to stop.
This was wrong.
She said nothing. She did not want their moment together to end.
‘We should go back. The dance will have ended,’ he said. ‘We will be missed.’
She nodded – dazed and shocked by her submission, and the intensity of her response.
He held her arm gently and led her out into the hall, still silent. They had kissed, they had not spoken.
‘Henry…’ She stopped beside the stairs and turned to face him.
‘Not tonight. Not now, Susan. We will talk tomorrow.’
Had he dragged her out here only to kiss her? A million questions began forming in her head as two women walked out from the ballroom.
She glanced across her shoulder. She did not know them, and if Henry did, he did not acknowledge them. But their presence meant she could not ask the questions she needed answers to.
She looked into his brown eyes and saw a depth in them she had never seen before.
‘Tomorrow, Susan. Take my arm.’
Her fingers wrapped about his forearm, and they walked back into the ballroom. What if someone had noticed them leave? What if Alethea had seen? Where would she say she had been? What would she say they had done?
‘Shall I take you to Uncle Casper and Aunt Julie?’
‘Yes,’ she said, as she exhaled. Every muscle seemed to tremble as they crossed the ballroom. What if someone asked him where they had been and he said something different from her?
He led her towards the corner of the room where her parents stood. It was not only her parents there but his, and as they she neared them, Alethea joined them on the arm of the Earl of Stourton.
‘Forgive me. Excuse me. I need the retiring room…’ She let go of Henry’s arm and turned away, not waiting for his acknowledgement.
When she walked back across the ballroom to the hall, she felt as though everyone watched and knew what she had allowed to happen.
She wove a path through the crowd at the edge of the floor, turning from side to side as couples moved to join the next dance. Then in the hall, her heart racing, and breaths hurried, she walked quickly to the stairs and climbed them as fast as she could, terrified someone, Henry, or Alethea, might have followed her.
When she reached the busy retiring room, she dropped down into a seat before a mirror on a dressing table. The maids fussed over other women in the room, pinning up fallen hair and mending torn hems.
Susan stared at her reflection. She should look different. There should be some sign… But there was none. Except perhaps her lips were a little redder and fuller. Her fingertips touched them.
She had kissed Henry.
It was reckless. Madness…
Why had he done it? Why had she? She wished to scream at herself. There was no justification for her behaviour.
Rebellious. He had called her that weeks ago… She had not believed what he said – until tonight. She was cruel. Wicked. A horrible person. She should go home to Yorkshire – banish herself.
Tears pressed at the back of her eyes, and gathered again as a lump in her throat. She swallowed them away, then used a little powder on her face to bring down her colour before adding some rouge on her lips and cheeks. If her redness looked false it would at least hide the guilt cutting her in half.
