Lessons from a Scandalous Bride (Forgotten Princesses #2)(32)

She moaned, sagging against him, sinking into his kiss, drowning in the deliciousness of the moment.

He broke away with a shuddering breath. His hands slid from her face as he stepped back.

She swayed, on the verge of collapsing. He quickly reached out a hand to grasp her elbow and steady her. She hissed at the touch. He dropped his hand as if he felt the sting of contact, too.

“There. You see,” he murmured. “You didn’t expect that of yourself, did you?” He paused a beat. “I did. You’ve passion in you.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “A passion for me, it would seem.”

Shaming fury swept over her. Blast him!

“You have no bounds,” she growled. Yanking her arm free, she hugged the book she still clutched in her hands to her chest. “Don’t look so smug. A kiss proves nothing. It’s an animal urge. Nothing more. Fortunately I’m more than a base beast. I possess the power of logic and reasoning.” She tapped the side of her head to illustrate her point. “And there is no reason beneath the heavens that I should entertain the notion of marrying you.” Not with Roger’s threat hanging over her head. She’d already lost Bess. She couldn’t risk anyone else.

With a swirl of her skirts, she stalked away. As her heart hammered like a drum, she brushed her fingers over her lips and wondered why her hand should tremble so much. She knew what she was about—she had since she first accepted her father’s bargain. Especially since Roger’s visit. And what she was about did not involve the likes of him. Losing Bess only drove that home.

Once outside, she crossed the lawn toward Thrumgoodie, pasting a smile on her face. The sooner the earl proposed, the sooner she said yes. And the sooner Lord McKinney ceased to torment her.





Chapter Thirteen

Following dinner that evening, Cleo tucked herself away in the back of the drawing room as Libba banged away on the pianoforte. Abiding one of her stepfather’s drunken rampages would prove more enjoyable than such a racket. From the painful fidgeting of the others, she knew she wasn’t the only one suffering.

Logan maintained a perfectly neutral expression, staring at Libba with polite interest. The man belonged on stage.

“Let’s take a walk,” Thrumgoodie suggested, struggling up from his chair. “Can only abide so much of that claptrap for one evening.”

She blinked at the unusual request. The man wasn’t one for casual strolls. For obvious reasons. They tired him greatly. Still, she quickly rose and accepted his arm, although she was more or less the one to guide him toward the balcony doors.

A glance over her shoulder revealed Logan still gazing faithfully upon Libba. Perhaps he’d finally listened to her and accepted that she would never return his interest. A heaviness settled deep in her chest and she hastily looked away from him—only to clash gazes with Hamilton standing near the fireplace.

He glared at her from across the room, his stare flickering from her to his uncle and back again. It didn’t take a grand intellect to understand that her presence here upset him. She resisted the childish urge to stick her tongue out at him.

She turned her attention away, quite happy to forget both Hamilton and Logan. She needn’t let them cast a pall over her evening.

The French doors were partially cracked to allow some air to flow inside the stuffy room.

“A moment alone, at last,” Thrumgoodie sighed into the night as they cleared the threshold. “Libba was given all the best instructors, but I’m afraid some people are simply not born musicians.”

She slowed her steps to match his dragging pace.

“It’s a lovely night,” she agreed. “Even with a nip to the air, it’s far finer than the city. You can see the stars here.”

Thrumgoodie patted her hand as they neared the stone balustrade. “This fine evening is only matched by you, my pet. Such a delightful companion to an old goat like myself.”

“You mustn’t call yourself such things,” she protested with a smile, feeling strangely nervous. Odd that. They’d been alone before. And it’s not that she feared he would behave inappropriately. The man could barely walk unassisted. He wasn’t likely to pounce on her.

Several moments passed. Neither said anything as they absorbed the night humming all around them. A faint hint of rain rode the air and she wished it away, not looking forward to the prospect of staying indoors all day tomorrow with everyone. She’d go mad trapped in close confines with Libba, Hamilton, and Thrumgoodie. To say nothing of Logan and his effect on her.

She glanced toward the open doors behind them. Dull light glowed through the sheer curtains. Voices carried on the air over the discordant notes of Libba’s playing, and she thought she detected Logan’s deep voice among the others. Shaking her head, she chastised herself for such straying thoughts. She couldn’t afford to care about him.

She forced her attention back to Thrumgoodie, realizing he was speaking.

“ . . . it shouldn’t come as any surprise that I’ve grown fond of your company over the last few months. You’ve been a bright light into my fading days.”

She tensed and straightened, pulling back her shoulders. This was it.

The moment she’d been waiting for.

She focused on his face, but a movement over his shoulder attracted her notice. She peered, squinting, but could only make out a shadowed figure there.