Page 55 of Lady Gambit
To protect her heart she should lie, but then she pictured the young boy waiting at the window for no one to come. The man who’d chosen a solitary existence because it hurt less than feeling unloved.
“You do not need Aristotle’s wisdom to know you’re the only man I have ever wanted. The only man who has ever made my heart sing.”
He arched a brow. “How can one judge with limited experience?”
“I have four brothers. I know what I admire in a man. I know what I feel when I’m in your company.” Though she struggled to put it into words.
She moved to inspect his room, forcing herself to focus on one object at a time, though her greedy gaze darted about like a March hare. She noticed his shaving implements and soaparranged on the washstand. The white shirt folded neatly on the bed. The unlit fire in the grate. One clean glass turned upside down on the dresser, along with one clean plate.
He inhaled sharply when she touched the forest green coverlet on his bed.
“Everything is so neat.”
“I pay the landlord’s wife to tidy the room daily.”
She would take the role without pay, though would spend most of the time lying on his bed, her face buried in his pillow. “Let me know if the position becomes vacant.”
The book on his nightstand conjured an image of him sitting alone in the candlelight, trying to fill the empty hours. The silver flask probably contained brandy, a means to warm his bones and help a troubled man fall asleep. It didn’t bear his initials. It wasn’t bought as a gift.
“Reading calms the mind and soothes the soul,” she said, resisting the need to open the nightstand drawer. “I spend a lot of time on my own, lost in the pages of a book.”
“It’s one of the many things we have in common.” His hand came to rest on her arm, and he drew her around to face him. Warm brown eyes studied hers. “Are you going to tell me why you ran?”
She shrugged like it didn’t matter. The earl thought she was a harlot, but that’s not what upset her most. “I panicked. I was afraid and heard the familiar voice telling me to run. All I could think about was putting some distance between us.”
“Between us? Why would you run from me?” It took him seconds to come to a logical conclusion. “You left your bonnet on the table downstairs. That means you sat by the window and heard my father’s vile diatribe.”
Shame’s heat rose to her cheeks. “I am a harlot. We’ve spent the day alone, but my brother thinks Mr Daventry is our chaperone. I’ve kissed you twice and?—”
“It was more than a kiss. We devoured each other’s mouths until we could hardly breathe. If you were a harlot, I would be inside you at every given opportunity.”
“You would?” A delicious shudder ran through her, but then she recalled Miss Montague’s tempting offer, and jealousy twisted in her gut. “A better opportunity awaits you elsewhere. Miss Montague is a good match for you.” Oh, how it hurt to say those words. “Bitterness has made you blind to what is obvious to most.”
He jerked in response, though his hand never left her arm. “I don’t want to strip Miss Montague slowly out of her clothes. I have no desire to settle between her thighs or bury my face in her hair. I don’t want to lie naked with her in bed, drinking wine, making love.”
She swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. He painted magical scenes. Dangerous scenes. “Lust has you in its powerful grip. I know because I’m at its mercy, too. I would give myself to you in a heartbeat. But when you dine with Miss Montague tonight, I want you to imagine it might be the same if you kissed her.”
“I’m not dining with Miss Montague tonight.”
“But I thought?—”
“You thought what? That I’d kiss one woman and entertain another. Allow me to remind you what I said when we met. I’m not in the habit of kissing anyone. I cannot explain what’s happening between us, though I suspect it’s a damned sight more complicated than lust.”
They stared at each other.
The unexplainable thing thrummed in the space between them.
“Dorian, everything about my life is confusing. Everything except how I feel about my brothers and how desperately I want you.”
He inhaled sharply. “Then forgive me if I take liberties, but I cannot fight these feelings anymore.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek. “I refuse to fight them anymore.” His mouth found hers, the kiss unlike the others they had shared.
It was soft and slow and sensual.
An act of surrender.
Their breath mingled as they dared to kiss open-mouthed. Tingles scattered over her skin. The intense passion that always consumed them simmered in her blood. Whatever happened between them, she wished for one thing.
If she must dream at night, she didn’t want to picture a faceless man or feel the panic of drowning beneath the weight of her burden.
