Page 11 of Stealing a Scoundrel's Heart
“Mmm… the stew is quite good.” Marjorie placed her spoon to her lips and then stopped. “Are you not hungry, my lord?”
He’d lost his appetite for food. His imagination had ventured to less innocent pursuits, picturing Marjorie naked upon the bed, legs spread wide for him to feast upon her. Alister cleared his throat and his mind of the wayward thoughts, and then reached for his mug of mead. “I think I’ll just partake in the mead this eve.”
“Won’t that give you a terrible headache?”
“No. Not in the least.” He took a sip of the warm brew and was pleasantly surprised at the slight barley flavor. In an attempt to quell his desires, he asked, “Do you miss Maxwell?”
Marjorie sputtered and dabbed her napkin to her mouth. “Beg your pardon, my lord?”
“My lord?” He feigned offense and placed a hand over his chest where one would assume his heart resided. Little did anyone know that he was fraud, a scoundrel without a heart. Hell and damnation, he wanted to take Marjorie to bed… and not to rest. He leaned back in his chair and continued with his act of exaggerated despair. “After spending an entire day traveling in close quarters, I rather hoped you would consider us more than mere acquaintances… more like friends. Close friends.” No longer acting, he spoke the truth. “We should simply agree to dispense with the use of honorifics. Wouldn’t you agree, Marjorie?” He tilted his head, arched his right eyebrow, and gave the lady his famous smirk. He didn’t have a dimple to wield like Foxton, but he’d mastered the right amount of self-confidence and smugness to accompany the slight curve of his lips which often resulted in capturing a woman’s full attention which then led to the lady leaning forward to press her lips against his. Damn. He shouldn’t be attempting to lure Marjorie into kissing him. No kissing. Kissing led to… he shifted in his seat and took another long drink of mead. For years, he’d sought out comfort in the arms of a woman to banish the hollowness that assaulted him every time memories of his mama resurfaced. Only to discover he was left with more regret and remorse after he left their warm beds.
Rather than blushing or giggling behind her napkin, Marjorie knitted her brow into a frown. “Lord Dartman, pray tell me… if I weren’t Maxwell’s widow, and you had met me traveling alone—allow me to clarify. A spinster traveling alone, would you have dared to share a meal with me in private?”
“Obviously not. I’ve no intention of marrying.”
“Why not?” She placed her napkin back in her lap and took another bite of her meal before returning her gaze to his. “You are titled. You are no simpleton, and you are in the prime of your life. You're not going to follow in Maxwell’s footsteps and wait to marry only months before you meet your maker, are you?”
No. Yes. Maybe?Damn the woman for yet again confusing matters that he had believed he had well in hand. Her last question was too difficult to address, so he opted to answer her former question ofwhy not. “I haven’t met a woman who has prompted me to even consider marriage.”
Without pause, Marjorie quipped, “Perhaps you should spend more time attending balls and less time in hell houses.”
Where was the meek, modest debutant he had decided to avoid years ago? Oh, he remembered the year Marjorie made her debut. He had observed her from the wings, constantly flanked by her two best friends, Lady Elise and Lady Dorinda, who ultimately proved to be hellions rather than angels. Mayhap over the years the two had managed to corrupt Marjorie. He took in her sweet features… no. Marjorie was still an angel. An angel he was still unexplainably drawn to. Damn, Maxwell.
“Perhaps you are correct.” He took another gulp of his drink and summoned the courage to ask the question that had plagued him for days. “Why do you think Maxwell chose you to wed?”
Marjorie stopped chewing. “I asked Maxwell that very question on our wedding day.”
“And?”
“He told me he wanted to help me.”
“Help you? How?”
“To overcome the trials and tribulations of being a spinster. He claims he overheard me muttering in the gardens at one of the many boring luncheons we attended last Season. He also claimed he needed to do one more good deed in an effort to be granted access at the pearly gates of heaven—apparently, he had many sins to atone for.”
Alister let out a bark of laughter. At the height of his youth, Maxwell had been a rake, a scoundrel, a reprobate, and a rogue, and had partaken in his fair share of sinful behavior. “Yes, he did indeed.” He paused to stare into his empty mug. “What did you think of Maxwell’s reasoning for marrying you?”
“There was no reason to dwell upon his motivations for marriage. I…no,wedecided to focus instead on making the best of our union. It wasn’t a whirlwind love match, but we enjoyed each other's company, often in companionable silence.”
“Interesting.” He half stood and slid his chair closer to her. “You’re not quiet around me.”
Marjorie leaned in closer to him.
His heart began to pound in his ears. Half hoping to intimidate her, he bent at the waist until they were face to face. In truth, he only wanted to be close enough to kiss her. Damn him and his wayward thoughts straying once again back to the idea of kissing Marjorie. He needed to refrain; after all, he wasn’t so much of a fool as to kiss her. He clenched his jaw. He was no fool. Mayhap if he repeated it over and over, he’d be less tempted. Eye-to-eye with her, he feasted on the warmth her gaze generated within him.
The spark of desire in her eyes sent his mind and body reeling. Marjorie may be a widow, but her innocent blushes, her curious furrowed brow, and the uninhibited sway of her body when he was close all told him she was still very much an innocent. Damn. His cock twitched in his breeches. He needed to quickly resume control over the situation, or Marjorie would wake up naked in his arms. “Is this companionable silence, then?”
Her cheeks flushed bright red, and Marjorie snapped back away from him.Awise decision, Marjorie. Wise decision.
Head bent, she folded her napkin and said, “If we are to set off at first light, I think it wise if you return to your own chambers, my…”
He slid to the edge of his chair until their knees were touching. If she referred to him asmy lordone more time, he would… damnation, he wasn’t exactly sure what he would do, but whatever it was, he’d ensure she never referred to him in the polite manner again.
The woman must have realized the danger she was in, for she looked up at him and said, “Al-Alister, it is time for you to le-leave.”
Gaze locked on hers, he stood and she did too.
Oh, how he would have liked to reward her for speaking her mind and not shying away from him, but he couldn’t remain a moment longer alone with the woman.
