Page 51 of Pursuing Lord Pascal
He took her hand again. “What would you say if I told you a life in the country with you at my side sounds like a great adventure?”
Amy frowned, although this time she didn’t break free. “I’d say I still need to think.” When he loomed closer, she placed her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. “And don’t kiss me. You turn my brains to scrambled eggs when you do.”
“That’s a good thing, when people contemplate marriage,” he said, looking happier. Of course he did. He knew now how close she teetered to agreement.
“Not when I need to be sensible.” She cringed at the word. It sounded so cramped and mean after this marvelous fortnight of generosity and abundance and passion since she’d gone to his bed.
“You’ve been sensible your whole life. I’ll wager you were born sensible.” He placed his hand over hers where it lay above his heart. “Take a chance.”
Her laugh was wry. “I was sensible until the day I met you. Now I need a clear head.”
He studied her and must have seen that she was adamant. With a sigh, he released her and leaned back against the desk. She tried not to let the dejected slump of his shoulders sway her decision.
“Do you want me to woo you again?”
She found a smile. He sounded like she asked him to sign up for ten years’ hard labor in the colonies. “No.”
He regarded her under lowered golden brows. “Then for pity’s sake, what do you want?”
She wanted him, but that wasn’t necessarily a reason to accept him. “I want a couple of days to reflect upon my answer. Surely that’s not too much to ask, when we’re talking about the rest of our lives.”
He straightened, and his expression turned austere. “I’ll call tomorrow for your answer,” he said in an uncompromising tone.
His sudden ruthlessness startled her. “Gervaise…”
He regarded her impatiently. “You can’t pretend my offer comes out of the blue. If you don’t know now that we’re perfect together, you’ll never know. Say yes tomorrow, or send me away forever.”
She folded her arms and regarded him with displeasure. “You’re very highhanded.”
“Get used to it.”
The awful truth was that Amy found his arrogance exciting. She didn’t want a man who rode roughshod over her. But she respected Gervaise’s willingness to stand up to her and demand an answer. Once she’d settled into Warrington Court, she’d become the stronger half of the partnership. Wilfred had followed her every directive. As a result, she’d spent most of her marriage feeling very lonely.
She realized with a shock that when she was with Gervaise, she never felt lonely.
Now she had to deal with this new masterful version of her lover. Heat swirled in her veins, and a familiar sinful longing weighted the base of her belly. What a wanton he made her. She liked this new, daring version of Amy Mowbray.
It was as much to deny that stirring interest as to bring the difficult conversation to a close that she spoke. “We should go. I can hear music. Supper must be over.”
He studied her with an unreadable expression before giving her a brief bow as if they returned to the formality of their early meetings. “As you wish.”
Actually it wasn’t in any way as she wished. Wicked girl she was, she wanted to stay here with Gervaise and lose herself in mindless pleasure.
More. She wanted him to hustle her away and persuade her with kisses, until she forgot what an important decision marriage was. She had a horrible feeling that if she thought toohard, she’d turn into a coward and scuttle back to obscurity—and safety—in Leicestershire.
Suddenly that seemed a sad outcome to these recent, exciting weeks.
“Am I…am I tidy?” she asked in a reedy voice, as he shrugged on his coat and smoothed his hair. The efficiency of his movements reminded her, as if she needed reminding, that here was a man used to managing amorous intrigues.
His forbidding air softened at her hesitant question, and she sucked in her first full breath since he’d proposed. “Come here,” he said gently.
She stood in front of him. He tucked away a couple of stray tendrils of hair and straightened her pretty new dress.
“Will I do?”
“You’ll dazzle them all.” He leaned forward to give her another of those devastating kisses. He didn’t seem angry anymore, but she couldn’t forget his ultimatum.
Through the closed door, she heard a quadrille. “I won’t dazzle Mr. Harslett. I promised him this dance.”
