Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(71)

This time she would dare herself.

The soft scent of late roses drifted from the edge of the garden. The odor tickled her nose and she stopped, breathing more fully. She would tell Colton the truth, bare her soul to him, and then she would leave.

And then she would be free.

She blew out a long slow breath.

Already she felt lighter. She had held on to this game for far too long.

It was time to let it go.

She almost began to skip. She could do this, she could.

It would be difficult. Even the thought of him had her body tingling and wanting, but she could control her body. Perhaps he would not disappoint her. She hardly let herself have the hope, but it drifted about, refusing to be put down.

And if he did disappoint her? Her feet slowed. Her chest grew pinched.

It would be better to know than to live in this land of doubt.

Yet…her feet slowed again. Could she really bear to live without him? When she’d decided to grant him her body, it had not occurred to her that she would feel this way, that in granting him the privilege of touching her, of controlling her wants and desires, she was granting him so much more. And they had not even had true marital relations.

Her body warmed at the thought, a deep ache growing. What would it be like to feel his touch, to rub her skin against his, to feel him between her legs, to…?

No. She could overcome these thoughts, overcome her feelings.

She would not allow herself to remain in love….Had she actually just thought that? In love. In love.

She was not in love with Colton. She couldn’t be.

He’d taken her to that forbidden place, let her feel things she’d never dreamed of, allowed her to trust in him, to let herself go. With him she had found freedom.

That was it. She loved freedom. She loved risk. She didn’t love Colton.

Her mind filled with his smiling eyes, with his laugh, with the sense of safety that surrounded him, of how he…

She reached the folly and strode up the couple of steps. Her mind filled with further images—of him at the folly; of him standing before her, proud and strong; of him reaching for his flap; of the desire she’d felt as she…

Angela walked to the stone bench and sat, taking Colton’s place. She leaned back against the cold stone and let her mind wander, let herself remember. Her knees could still feel the cold that had seeped through the tarp. Her arms could remember the ache of being bound tight, of the security of that bond. Her eyes could remember the beauty that was Colton.

But mostly she remembered her feelings of trust.

How could she trust him enough to have done that but not trust him further?

Only.

Only.

Only.

Her thoughts ran in circles. Trust and betrayal. And trust again.

Light peeked from behind, the first rays hitting the lake and glittering back like a field of stars. It was dawn.

—

Was she coming? Colton stared around the small cabin. So simple. So plain. So deceptive.

It was the only place at home he’d ever allowed himself to play, and then only with a few very select houseguests. Nobody local had ever come here. He looked at the dark-wood bed, its four posts rising high. A tall set of drawers stood to one side and a wardrobe to the other. The pieces were sparse but still more than one would expect in such a rustic cabin. It could not in truth be called a hunting cabin. It was far too close to the main house, but his father had sometimes spent the night here when he wished for calm and quiet. Of course, the furnishings had been a little different in those days.

Colton grinned to himself. What did he know of what his father had done here? The older he grew, the more he realized how little one man knew about another.

Was she coming?

He walked to the door and threw it open, glancing up at the sky. The night was not as thick as it had been ten minutes ago. Dawn was coming, if it was not already here.

Was she coming?

Had she felt the implied dare in his note? And even if she had not—was she coming simply because she wanted to?

Perhaps he should have talked to her in person, rather than depending on the note, but one could not say no directly to such a note. Yes, she might not come, but that could be for a dozen reasons. She might simply have overslept.

It would not be a definite no.

If she did not come, he would have to find another way to get her alone, another way to persuade her that they must wed. He didn’t know when it had become such a certainty in his mind, but he could no longer imagine any other outcome.

A week ago he could not actually imagine marriage to anyone, and now he was determined. Yes, he’d thought he’d wanted marriage before, but he had always balked at its actuality. Now there was no other choice—and not merely because of Thorton. Thorton could be dealt with, no matter what Angela’s answer. But it was hard to imagine his life without Angela at his side.

She would be his bride, and he would do whatever was necessary to persuade her.

God, he hoped that she came.

That she gave him one more chance to persuade her that things could be right between them.

Almost as if his thoughts had drawn her, he heard the first subtle crunch of leaves far down the path.

He stepped into the cabin but did not shut the door. He walked to the far side, setting himself in shadow. The few candles on the table would light her first, let him see her expression, leave her vulnerable, while he stayed back.