Page 39 of Cherish and the Duke
If anything, he was furiously kicking himself for being so dense about her for all these years. He’d held on to a dream of perfection that never existed and had only himself to blame for remaining so deluded. So many years lost by refusing to move on to seek his own happiness elsewhere. Well, he had not completely shut himself off. He would have married if someone special had come along. But no one ever had until now.
Cherish.
Yes, she was lovely in every way and could make him happy.
But he also had to think of Reggie. The lad needed a wife he could trust with his heart and with his life. A wife who thought of others rather than only of herself. If Cherish ever vowed to love Reggie, he could count on her to remain true to her word. If Reggie were ever to go into the army, she was the sort of girl who would wait faithfully for his return. Unlike Katie, she would not demand a fine home for herself or require an extravagant style of life.
Cherish was… Blast, she was perfect forhim.
So what was he doing? Why was he trying to foist her on Reggie?
“Bah,” he muttered, returning inside to watch Cherish and soak her in, because he could not seem to get his fill of the girl.
She danced almost every dance and had no shortage of admirers. Yet there was nothing haughty in her demeanor. If anything, she seemed uncomfortable by the compliments tossed at her.
However, she did enjoy dancing, and her smile was sheer radiance as she hopped and twirled in time to the music.
Gawain did not dance again, for the jaunty reels were more suited to the younger crowd, to Reggie and his friends, who were already in their cups and hopping about like frogs in a pond. Instead, he performed his duties to Fiona by wandering through the room and engaging her guests in conversation.
It was two o’clock in the morning by the time the dancing ended, and perhaps three o’clock by the time the last stragglers made their way to their bedchambers.
Gawain had not seen much of Katie after their discussion on the terrace, so he assumed she had climbed back in her coach and returned to Brighton.
Unfortunately, he was wrong.
He found her waiting for him in his bed.
Naked.
Bollocks.What was she scheming now?
“Katie, what are you doing? Put your clothes back on.”
By the hard look in her eyes, Gawain knew she was not done with him yet. “Is this any way to greet the woman you once loved?”
“Oncebeing the significant word in that sentence. Did you take nothing away from our earlier conversation? I told you, we are through. Our time has come and gone. In the past. Never to be resurrected. Done.”
She sat up and positioned herself in what she thought was an enticing pose. “Come to me, Bromleigh.”
He handed her the thin chemise she had tossed off and that was now dangling on the footboard. It was so sheer, he doubted it would hide anything of her body. She refused to put it on, but even if she had, it probably would not have done much good. Her bosom would have spilled out of it, for the material was so flimsy, little would be left to his imagination.
Not that he needed any imagination, since Katie was showing him everything. “Get dressed,” he growled when she licked her lips in sultry promise and began to spread her legs. “I’ll help you tie your laces.”
She refused to budge. “You cannot send me home now. It is too late and much too dangerous for a lone carriage to be on the road at this hour.”
He sighed. “Stay here, then.”
“Now you are coming to your senses. Get out of your clothes and I shall have you com—”
“Gad, be quiet, Katie. I am not staying in here with you.” He gathered some of his belongings and strode to the door.
“Bromleigh, where are you going?”
“To sleep in my nephew’s room. He has two beds, and I shall manage quite well sleeping in the spare.”
She scrambled off his bed. “You cannot be serious. Don’t be a fool. Share yours with me.”
Gawain knew this would be the most foolish thing he could ever do. “Goodnight, Lady Albin.”
