Page 54 of The Damsel
“Good-bye, Robert.”
As she turned to walk away, it took every ounce of her will not to look back. His gaze followed her, hot on her back until she’d been swallowed up by the trees.
THE FOLLOWING DAY,Robert walked through the woods in the direction of Easton Park with Cassandra’s cloak draped over one arm. While she’d told him to stay away—and he had every intention of honoring her wishes—he hadn’t wanted her to go without the garment. It had remained in the care of servants overnight, and because everyone thought she’d left after her outburst in the drawing room, he’d been tasked with returning it.
“Your father is exhausted after last evening, but he was most insistent that you bring back word of Lady Cassandra’s welfare,” his mother had told him over breakfast.
He’d sat across from her while poking at his food, his stomach tied up in too many knots for him to eat. He hadn’t wanted to speak of the woman who’d cast him aside after ripping him to shreds with nothing more than her words. However, it seemed all his mother wished to talk about following the dinner party, so he’d had to suffer in silence.
“I am glad you convinced me to invite her,” she said between bites of coddled eggs. “While I cannot confess to being fond of the chit, she held her own quite well I suppose. We certainly set a good example for our neighbors, so she should have an easier time of it now.”
He couldn’t help scoffing aloud at that, rolling his eyes as he reached for the cup of coffee beside his plate. Cassandra, having any easy time of it? That woman wanted nothing of the sort. She’d fight the entire world if she could, lashing out with tooth and claw at anything that got to close to her.
“Whatever could be so funny?” she asked, noting the sardonic smile upon his face.
“Nothing,” he’d said, wiping all traces of emotion from his face. “I am certain you are right.”
The baroness had given him a curious gaze, but carried on. “Your father seems taken with her. I cannot imagine why. Such a surly creature.”
Surly, stubborn, and beautiful, his Cassandra. And yes, she was his whether she wanted to be or not. She could deny it all she wished, but he knew he wasn’t alone in his feelings. Things had begun to change between them, and while Robert had been ready to embrace it, Cassandra seemed intent upon running from it.
Which left him in a bit of a conundrum at present—torn between the urge to go chasing after her, and the need to protect himself from anymore heartbreak. As painful as it had been to watch Daphne choose Hartmoor over him, the agony of trying and failing to win Cassandra felt even worse. She’d latched on to some deep-seated part of him, and he’d clung right back, coming alive with her in a way he never had with anyone else.
At this point, he could cut his losses and walk away free and clear. She had pushed him away, and he could choose to honor that and stay away. Or, he could fight his way through his defenses, burst through the fissures in her walls and break them open completely.
Running a hand over his tired face, he’d found he lacked the strength to make a decision yet. She’d turned him inside out this morning.
God help him, the cruelty only made him want her more. She’d been absolutely right about him … he craved the pain of it as much as the pleasure.
“I will go return the cloak to her now,” he’d announced, rising from the table after polishing off his coffee.
His mother had frowned, her gaze falling to his plate. “But, you’ve hardly touched your breakfast.”
“I am not hungry.”
She was on her feet in an instant, rushing around the table and reaching up to place a hand over his forehead. “Are you ill? I ought to send for Dr. Dormer.”
His exhaustion further exacerbated the annoyance rising within him.
“I am not ill, I just do not want to eat,” he’d said, pushing her hand away.
Wringing her hands, she had looked him over from head to toe, her gaze telling him she did not believe a word of it. “Lack of appetite can be a sign of any number of illnesses. You could be—”
“Damn it, Mother, sometimes not eating only means I am not hungry!” he snapped.
She flinched as if he’d struck her, eyes going wide and chin trembling. Wonderful. He could now count her as second among the women who’d grown cross with him in the span of a few hours. Turning to leave, he decided the long walk to Easton Park would help clear his head. By the time he returned, he hoped his mood would have improved. But, considering Cassandra would not be happy to see him when he arrived, he doubted it.
“At least put on a greatcoat,” she’d called after him.
“I don’t need a coat!” he’d replied as he thundered through the dining room doors and out into the corridor.
It wasn’t like him to brush off her concerns, but then, he hadn’t felt at all like himself the past few weeks. Cassandra had gotten under his skin, forcing parts of him aside to make room for something else. That thing had no tolerance for the baroness’ constant meddling and worries.
Now he approached Easton Park with every intention of leaving the cloak in the care of a servant before returning home. Inside him, conflict roiled over whether he wished to lay eyes upon her.
Passing the pond, he avoided looking at it for fear of reliving the night he’d come here to find her plunging into the depths. It would only make him want to tear the door of her cottage off its hinges and go barreling through the house in search of her. Once he’d found her, he would take her into his arms whether she fought him or not. He’d kiss her senseless and refuse to let go until she gave in.
Christ, she was driving him out of his mind even when they didn’t stand face to face.
