Always a Maiden (The Belles of Beak Street #5)(63)

“How are you?” he asked.

Her eyes blinked open. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this…nice.”

Nice wasn’t exactly the word he was looking for, but from Susanah, it was just the sort of restrained word she’d use to mean a whole lot more. Then again it just made him want her again—although he didn’t want to make her sore. Besides he was spent.

“What you expected?” he asked.

Her brow knit and he smoothed out the furrows with his thumb.

“Did I disappoint you?”

“Of course not,” he answered startled she could think that.

A hint of wariness crept into her beautiful eyes.

He didn’t like it. Moreover, there was a skeleton in the cupboard that they needed to address. He couldn’t wait any longer. “Why Farringate?”

Her gaze shifted off to the side. It was a cut deeper than any that could be made by a knife. His ears roared with the flush of blood and anger.

“I didn’t have a choice,” her voice so warm a minute ago was stiff with propriety. “Lord Hull told me I was a fool.”

“What else did he tell you?” he demanded, hoping against hope that she might have been willing to lower her standards in the lord department.

“Nothing,” she said with a wide-eyed shake of her head.

He levered himself off of her, their bodies uncoupling with a little pop. “And here I thought you might be willing to settle for a mere baron instead of an earl.”

He couldn’t stay because he wanted to shake her, to yell at her, to make her see reason, but mostly because he was half afraid he’d break down in front of her. A man just didn’t do that.





Chapter 16





“What?” Susanah sat up and grabbed the sheets. What had just happened? What was he talking about? But then he appeared to be leaving. “No.”

He snatched his clothing from the floor and thrust his legs into his breeches without pulling on his small clothes. He muttered. “I should have known better.”

There were words tumbling around in her head, but they weren’t coherent thoughts. The shift from a pleasant haze of repletion to understanding why Evan had left her body and bed so abruptly wasn’t making any sense. “Did I do something wrong?”

Or was he just glad it was over? Nothing made sense. Except that he might have been happy to make love—or have sexual relations—love hadn’t really been mentioned. Although one time she’d thought he was going to say it, but he hadn’t. Because he didn’t love her. She had to face facts.

“What will Lord Farringate think when he finds you aren’t a virgin?” He said on a low note.

So Evan offered her no other choice. He wouldn’t marry her. Or at least not under these circumstances, where her father might not hand over her dowry. For a second she couldn’t breathe, her chest was so pained it sucked the air from her. But then she managed to sputter, “I don’t care what he thinks.”

She’d given herself to Evan unconditionally, but she should have insisted on conditions, on his being honorable. Except he was a rake. He might not have virginal ladies as his usual conquests, but he’d been too skilled, too perfect with her to believe it had never happened.

Even if he did marry her, she’d likely spend the rest of her life watching him flit from seduction to seduction. The pain would be unbearable. She’d be better off with Farringate where she wouldn’t care if he bedded other women. She’d welcome it. The idea of allowing that man to do the things Evan had done to her almost made her sick. She put a hand over her mouth holding in the rise in her gorge.

He picked up his shirt and thrust his head through the opening. But she feasted her eyes on his lean torso, knowing she would never see it again. But other women would.

“And stay away from Annabelle,” she popped off.

“What?” His gaze narrowed.

“She and Ashton are happy.” She would never have the adoring looks the two of them cast in each other’s direction when they thought she wasn’t looking. She couldn’t bear the thought of Evan coupling with any of the women she cared about. She couldn’t bear the thought of him with anyone else. He was tearing her apart as surely as horses had been bound to all her limbs to quarter her.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked in a deadly soft voice.

“What am I to think? I saw the way you looked at her.”

He shook his head and moved out of her room into the sitting room. She rose to follow him, but she was stark naked. She couldn’t chase him through the house naked. Did she intend to chase him through the house? Was this some test of her passion? Should she tell him she loved him? Or would he only look at her in pity? She cast around looking for her nightgown, but by then the door clicked.

She tried to think of a sampler pattern, to sort out colors for leaves and flower petals for a riotous design, but she wanted ugly red slashes and black. Her emotions too long controlled refused to be held down. She didn’t even make it back to the bed before a powerful sob racked her and brought her to her knees.

There was a loud thud outside the door, but she couldn’t think about that as she felt torn in pieces. She clutched at the sheets and buried her face against the edge of the mattress stifling her wails. The sheets smelled of Evan. She didn’t want to let them go, even though she hated him almost as much as she loved him. It was as if he’d wrenched off her arm or something equally vital and taken it with him, and all she was left with was his scent on the sheets.