Page 30 of The Moonstone Pirate
“And all the while you were looking at Imogen.” Deandra smiled at both of them.
Quite embarrassed, not only for her coughing fit but for Deandra’s obvious hint that Draco should marryher, Imogen leaped to her feet. “Excuse me.”
Since Draco had been kneeling beside her, she inadvertently knocked him over as she tore out onto the terrace. Night had fallen and the air was cool and pleasant. Imogen put her hands to her cheeks because they were in flames, and so was much of her body.
She needed to calm down.
Did Draco believe she was another of those scheming debutantes who wished to marry him? Well, she had given him that ridiculous ultimatum about never kissing her again unless he wished to marry her. What else was he to think? How humiliating!
She closed her eyes as a shudder rippled through her.
As much as she wanted to dismiss him, she could not. What could be nicer than to be his wife and have the right to fall asleep in his arms each night? It was an impossible dream, of course.
Besides, she did not know this man at all. “Heavens, what a thought.”
It was dark outside, nothing but moonlight and a sky full of twinkling stars. She took a deep breath and inhaled the familiar scent of the sea, but it did little to calm her.
Someone came up behind her as she fixed her gaze on the water and the moon shining over it. “I am not going back inside untilheleaves, Uncle Cormac.”
“Sorry, Butterfly. I am not your uncle. Until who leaves? You cannot possibly mean me.” Draco’s voice was laden with humor, since he knew this was exactly to whom she referred.
She turned to frown at him. “Who allowed you to follow me out? Certainly not my uncle. He will eat you alive if he finds you with me.”
“Everyone is watching us from the parlor. No one is going to eat me alive. I’m sorry if Deandra embarrassed you. She adores you and has apparently decided that I must adore you, too.”
“Do not feel obligated. I know I am nothing more than a little goose to you. Innocent. Inexperienced. Not even had my come-out yet.”
“First of all, you aremybutterfly and not a goose. You are extremely clever, and I admire all your ideas. You are also refreshingly honest and compassionate, although a bit too sensitive, if you wish for my opinion.”
She nodded. “It is the artist in me. I cannot helpfeelingeverything.”
He rested his elbows on the balustrade as he joined her in looking out over the water. Not that there was much to see of it beyond the moon’s crystal reflection upon the waves. “Ah, yes. Your feelings do seem to rule you.”
“Not always. I use my brain from time to time. See, you do think I am a goose.”
“I assure you, I do not.” He sighed. “You are taking offense again where none is meant. I happen to think you are one of the loveliest and cleverest people I have ever met. I find you surprisingly endearing, if you must know. Will you draw those wizards for me? I think you have been extremely helpful in this investigation, and I fully intend to discuss all clues with you.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Imogen,” he said, his voice deep and soft.
“Thank you.”
He took light hold of her elbow. “Come back inside and join the rest of us as we finish the conversation. Ignore Deandra’s matchmaking fantasies. She means well, but I will have a word with her later and tell her to stop. I am not ready to marry, as you well know. I do not want her pushing ladies at me, most of all you. She has to be made to realize it.”
“I will talk to her. We are sharing a bedchamber and will chatter well into the night. Go back inside, Draco. I’ll be along in a moment.” She needed a little more time to steady herself after his words.Most of all you.Yes, now that he had kissed her, he did not want to be bothered with her.
Oh, he had assured her that he was not dismissing her now that he had satisfied his curiosity with the one kiss. He also said he valued her opinions on this investigation. But was he merely saying those things to let her down gently? The truth of his feelings came out in unguarded moments. He wanted no commitments.
Most of all, not with her.
“Butterfly,” he said with an ache to his voice, “what has you still overset?”
“Artistic temperament, that is all. Please go away and leave me alone.”
Instead, he wrapped his hand around hers. “No.”
“My uncle is going to come at you with a battle axe if he realizes you have taken hold of my hand.” But his touch was delightfully warm and enveloping, conveying not only strength but confidence and protective assurance.
