Page 64 of Seductive Reprise
She flushed and took a hasty sip, then frowned at the tea for a moment. “I don’t know, I only ever met him the once.”
“That’s a dashed untruth, you were at the—” Yusef paused, but figured there was no tiptoeing around it any longer. “Christmas ball.”
There it was, the point of their parting. Yes, he’d apologized profusely, and she’d glibly accepted it last night, between caresses. But today it still somehow felt raw, a decade-old break that had never been repaired, in full, with clear heads.
“Yes,” she said, still avoiding his eyes. “But I kept away for the rest of the evening, after that.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and truly, he felt he could never say it enough.
“I asked Ipsley for confirmation, you know,” she offered, staring longingly at the potatoes. “That night.”
Yusef waited, forced himself to feel the pain in his chest. He’d done that.
She took another sip of tea, then finally met his eye with determination. “When we’d retired to our rooms for the evening, and the dowager countess had finally gone off to bed.” Her face faltered a bit at the memory of the fine older lady. “Her, I couldn’t bear to face. My grandmother, I suppose,” she added wistfully. “No matter. She’s gone now, so I hear. Anyhow, the earl was beside himself—he thought I knew. And I admit, I did not behave very well. I left that night. On foot.”
Yusef sucked in a breath, furious. He’d known she’d departed in the night. But it never had occurred to him that she’d gone onthe tramp so carelessly, clutching her possessions to her chest in a hastily tied bindle.
“I know, I know,” she huffed, unhappy with his obvious anger. “Spare me your lecture. It was nearly a full moon. Truth, it was not far to the village, and the sun was rising by the time I got there. A family gave me a ride into Chester on the back of their cart.” She sighed and sat forward, examining the selection of food before plucking a roll from the tray.
Yusef reached for the butter, but she waved him off.
“The earl, he was—is—a kind man.” She took a bite, thinking as she chewed and swallowed. “I worry I treated him monstrously. But how does one treat one’s father when you’ve only just learned the truth of your relationship?” She shook her head, then set her full attention to eating, her primal needs outweighing the desire to untangle the knotted mess of her past for the time being.
He waited until it seemed the conversation had ceased. Then he said, affecting a bored tone, “You might call on him.”
She halted, a second roll hovering before her mouth.
“And apologize,” Yusef added with a slight shrug. Softening at the reluctant look on her face, he said, “Or perhaps you would not. Either way, I would accompany you. If you’d like.”
“I’m not sure.” She suddenly felt an anxious little girl, fidgeting with a napkin before wiping her mouth with it.
“I am, after all, your humble servant.”
She gave him a strained smile and timidly picked up her tea once more.
It pained him to see her thus. He wanted her to feel safe with him, at ease. She needed to know, wherever she went and whatever she accomplished, that he would be there for her, a safe harbor she could always return to for peace and comfort. His chest constricted. Maybe that was why he did it, speaking out of turn like a fool.
“I could perhaps be…” The cold logic of his mind screamed at him to stop, desperately warning him that only misery would be found this way. But his heart was full, and he couldn’t halt his fervent ask, not now when he could make everything right, if she’d only agree. “Something more.”
Rose froze in place. Her eyes widened.
Yusef did not quail. He held her stunned gaze, his face gravely serious.
“What do you mean?”
“Allow me to become your husband.”
Of all the things she’d expected he might say, that was nowhere close to any of them. Rose set her cup down, the china clinking against its saucer. The smooth silk robe she wore, which until that moment had felt impossibly light and delicate, was suddenly an oppressive, smothering encumbrance, the heat she felt in her body rising near the temperature of a hearth.
“H-husband?” she choked out.
His gaze remained steady, his dark eyes so warm, so… desperate.
Everything had gone topsy-turvy. She’d had a moment of pure happiness; after all these months of intolerable lust, she’d finally slaked her thirst. She’d allowed herself to believe it could be just that, the joining of two souls who should never have been parted. She’d put any worries about where it might lead neatly away at the bottom of a trunk and locked them away, telling herself she’d think on it another time.
Well, that time had come, much sooner than she ever expected. She shouldn’t have reached for that framed photograph, the one of Yusef as a boy, looking so terrified and unsure of himself. The feeling was catching.
Even as a girl, besotted with the handsome, genteel son of a duke, she’d never even considered he mightmarryher. Hell, she’d never considered marriage to anyone. She had always seen it as an obstruction to everything she wanted; indeed, to everything shewas. There’d been a lovely young lady at school several years ago, Miss Ida Lawton. Middle-class, pretty in that frail sort of way that inspired protectiveness in most men—that they would then, in turn, mistake for fancy. But Miss Lawson had a fine hand for landscapes, and Rose had gone with her once to the portrait gallery to sketch some copies for practice. Soon afterward, though, she’d accepted some fellow’s suit. Rose never saw her at the studio again, and never heard what had become of her, aside from the obvious: a wife.
