Page 11 of A Rogue for Christmas
His eyes remained fixed on hers as she considered the question. Another woman would be coy, making an exaggerated comment about how all her hopes and dreams would be dashed. Or they’d pretend indifference. Of course Iris would be different.
“Honestly? I’m not sure how I would feel.”
“I would hope you’d be disappointed. I know I would be.”
She examined him, and he waited, hoping she’d be able to tell he spoke the truth.
Finally, she nodded. “I don’t understand why you’re here.” She lowered her voice before continuing. “I’ve been told that you sought this invitation because you wanted to see me again.”
“I did.”
Had he ever felt this vulnerable with a woman? Not since his first experience bedding an older widow who was very eager to mold him into the perfect lover. But back then he’d been concerned about his lack of experience hampering his performance. Right now he was worried about this woman, who was barely out of the schoolroom, finding him wanting as a person. And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.
She nodded, accepting his admission. “Why?”
When he’d set out to secure an invitation to the annual Thornton Christmas house party, he hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of Iris’s questions.
“Honestly? I don’t know why. But I’ve been thinking about that meeting, and I needed to see you again.”
She let out a soft sigh and glanced away. “Of course. You wanted to make sure that I hadn’t continued with my foolish quest to find love with unworthy men who just wanted to take advantage of me.”
His chest constricted as he remembered how close that had come to happening. He wanted to reach for her but couldn’t, not with so many people surrounding them. But blessedly, they’d been provided with a measure of solitude for now.
It seemed they were being aided by Thornton and Seaford and their wives. They were standing nearby, chatting together. Close enough that he and Iris weren’t truly alone, but they did waylay anyone who was heading in their direction by engaging them in conversation or mentioning how good the wassail was this year.
“Iris.” He waited until she turned to meet his gaze. “I will forever be grateful that I found you out in the garden that evening. But I am not here as someone who is checking on your well-being.”
She licked her lips, and he wanted to groan. “Then why are you here?”
He’d come this far, but instead of being convinced his interest in this young woman was nothing but a foolish whim, he was beginning to think it went deeper. “I’m here because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
She shook her head but said nothing.
She didn’t believe him. He wanted to laugh aloud at the absurd thought. Of course she didn’t. She had to have known that he was out in that garden because he too was planning to meet someone. She might not have known his reputation then, but she would have been enlightened about his character once he made his interest in her known to Thornton and Seaford.
And dammit, he admired her for it. Because now he knew that she wasn’t a silly creature given to flights of fancy. She wouldn’t just take his word for it that something deeper had happened between them out in that garden.
That he was here because he’d become obsessed with her. He who’d never been captivated by another woman couldn’t stop thinking about this one. And coming here to speak with her again had only cemented his interest.
Violet Rowland dropped onto the settee next to her sister, ending their brief moment of privacy. She twined her arm through her sister’s. “We’re going to sing Christmas carols soon.”
Iris smiled at her sister. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
Violet turned to give him an assessing look. Her eyes were a lighter shade of blue, but there could be no doubt that they were siblings. “Do you sing, my lord?”
He chuckled. “Rest assured, you donotwant to hear me sing.”
Violet took him at his word and went to join the small group that was gathering by the pianoforte.
Iris gave him an arch look. “Perhaps you should have some wassail to ease your fears of performing.”
“There are many things at which I excel. Singing is not one of them.”
Instead of pouting, she shrugged. “I should go.”
He was surprised at the reluctance he felt at the idea of Iris leaving his side. “Will you join me again after?”
She considered the request. “I can’t ignore everyone else. If you’d like to speak privately, you should know that I like to break my fast early. It’s usually fairly quiet in the breakfast room at that hour.”
