Page 64 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
The carriage came to a stop. She raised the hood on the cloak over her head.
The door opened. He made to exit. She touched his arm, stilling him as effectively as if she’d suddenly appeared before him like a brick wall. “Where are you going?”
“To escort you to the door.”
“I don’t need people to see you.”
“My hat will shade my face. Besides, there is a good distance between your residence and any other. I doubt anyone is looking out this time of morning. I’m not going to let you traipse off by yourself as though I haven’t a care for you.”
Chapter 13
His words—acare for you—echoed through her thoughts as though he’d proclaimed his love. But care was a far distance from love. She couldn’t insert meanings that had no bearing into his words. Her heart was balancing precariously enough as it was, wanting more from him, knowing she could never acquire it. She could never be more than his mistress, more than the woman with whom he had an affair.
He was destined for a dukedom. He required—deserved—a woman above reproach.
She constantly reminded herself of that fact as she made her way through the following day and evening, as her nerve endings grew taut with each passing hour that brought the clock nearer to the stroke of eleven. She suspected she’d get no reprieve tonight. But then she didn’t want one. She wanted him, wanted them together.
With the hood of her cloak already covering her head, she was standing at the front window in the foyer when she saw the carriage approaching. She was out the door and down the steps before it stopped. The footman opened the door, assisted her inside.
And he was there. His scent and his warmth wafting around her. His presence bringing such gladness. She almost told him that this day had been the longest of her life, but experience had taught her to be cautious with her heart, her hopes, her dreams.
“I thought the night would never get here,” he said, his voice a low thrum in the darkness. “How did you occupy yourself today?”
“I worked in the garden.” Not a single weed had survived her thorough search. In need of distraction, she’d become lost in her endeavors. “Read.” Held a book more like. “You?”
“Met with estate managers. Visited a friend. Did a little boxing.”
“Did you get hurt?”
“No, he went easy on me. Mostly we danced around each other. But I had a lot of energy to work off.”
“I do hope you saved some for tonight.”
“I saved a good deal for tonight.”
The carriage drew to a stop. She raised the hood on her cloak just as the door opened. Rexton exited, then reached back to help her disembark. He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.
“I suppose your servants are discreet,” she said, as she glanced up at the massive manor.
“They are.” He led her up the wide stone steps. The door opened. A footman who stood at attention nearby had obviously been awaiting their arrival.
As she averted her eyes, she was grateful for the hood. She caught sight of the sweeping stairs, wished they didn’t make drawing in air so frightfully difficult. Now that the moment was upon her—
She became aware of Rexton unfastening her cape, drawing it and the hood away from her, handing it over to the servant. Here no shadows hovered; light in the chandeliers allowed her to see him so clearly. The blue of his eyes, a strong jaw recently shaved if the smoothness of it was any indication. She licked her lips.
“You’re nervous,” he said, his voice low.
“It’s been a while.” A while since she’d been alone with a man for the purpose of intimacy. An even longer while since she’d wanted to be.
“I’ve something to show you.”
She dropped her gaze to his crotch. “I’m certain you do.”
His deep laughter echoing through the foyer made her smile.
“Are all Americans as blunt?” he asked.
“Only those of us with notorious reputations.”
