Page 14 of The Rake I Wished For
“Er, I was just, uh…” The captain took a step backward, his face going pale. “I was just going back inside.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Harlow watched and waited until the young man was safely inside the house before turning his attention to Jocelyn.
She narrowed her eyes in a glare that made his heart trip and falter.
Lud, but she was beautiful even when her eyes promised she was out for blood.
He took his time closing the distance between them, more for his own sake than hers. His control had been strained, at best, these past weeks every time he thought of her threat to kiss another man, and right now fury still roiled in his gut.
When he reached her side, he held out the glass. “For you, I presume.”
Her nostrils flared as she took it from him.
A flicker of amusement broke through his anger now that he knew she was safe from harm. “Is that the thanks I get for bringing you a lemonade?”
She moved closer so no one could hear, and his senses were suddenly and horrifically filled with her.
The floral scent of her soap, the heat from her skin. He just barely stopped himself from backing away like a spooked colt.
“You know very well I despise lemonade,” she said.
“Then perhaps you ought to have told your paramour your preference before making such an asinine assignation.”
Her cheeks turned pink and anger made her pale blue eyes sparkle like diamonds. “You, sir, are in no position to judge.”
“On the contrary,” he shot back. “As you are mine to protect, I have every right to judge.”
“I am not yours,” she hissed.
And he felt it. He felt the words like a blow, even though he knew what she meant. “Your brother asked me to look after you.”
“Yes, well, he also asked that I look after you.” Her small smile was triumphant, and he did not doubt her. He could just see Liam doing such a thing.
Liam trusted Harlow with his sister, but Harlow suspected it would be a long time coming for his oldest friend to see him as anything other than a reckless, devil-may-care rake.
The thought was cloying, but he did his best to brush it aside.
“You know what I mean, Jocelyn. The stakes are not the same for you and me.”
Her brows drew down, and for a moment he saw an emotion there that threatened to gut him. It was a flicker of pain, or frustration, or…maybe even desperation.
What was going on in that quick mind of hers?
She drew in a deep breath and straightened to her full height, but she still had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. “Of course I understand the stakes are not the same,” she said in a low voice. “I understand the risks completely, which was why this party and that man—” She jabbed a finger in the direction the captain had disappeared. “They were my best chance.”
“Best chance of what?” he demanded. “Making a fool of yourself?”
Her sharp inhale pierced his chest, and he felt a pang of guilt.
“And that’s the best scenario,” he forced himself to continue. “Do you really want to find yourself married to some feckless cad?”
She tilted her head to the side and for a moment he wanted to…to…kiss her senseless.
No. He blinked, an exhale rushing out of him with a grunt, as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
No, he wanted to…shake her until she came to her senses. That was what he ought to do.
