Page 66 of My Wicked Earl
He whispered something into her hair and gripped her tighter.
Miranda lifted her head and looked up at the man who held her as if she were a cherished object. Though she’d long since stopped crying, his hold on her had not lessened.
Light blonde bristles stood out against his jaw, glistening as if he’d been sprinkled with fairy dust.
Her fingers lifted to his face, brushing against the bristle of his night beard before moving to trace the line of the scar. She pressed her lips to his ruined cheek
Come back to me. Her heart whispered to his.
“No matter what Miranda, I hope you know that I do care for you.” Colin’s eyes were closed, the length of his lashes dark streaks against his cheeks. His breathing slowed and his grip on her slackened.
“I care for you as well,” Miranda swallowed and summoned her courage, “does this mean that you will not marry Miss Lainscott?” Her heart was beating rapidly but not with passion.
“I have no intention of marrying Miss Lainscott.” His voice drifted off.
That was only part of Miranda’s question. “Will you then end your pursuit of Lady Helen?”
A wry half-smile twisted his lips. “I would not call it pursuit,exactly. More duty, I suppose.”
She didn’t move, nor flinch at the words that broke her heart. Devastation filled her. She should not have asked a question she didn’t really want an answer for.
A small snore sounded from the man beneath her.
Miranda was desolate. Humiliated.Pained. Gently, so as not to wake him, Miranda stood. How peaceful Colin looked as he slept, his face relaxed and open. She supposed he did care for her, as much as he was capable. Perhaps he did not so much leave her as run away from her, away from love and all it entailed. He didn’t want to be loved. Maybe he should marry Lady Helen.
Miranda supposed she should pity Colin, but instead her heart broke for them both. She made her way carefully from the room, her robe clutched tight about her, forgetting the book she’d meant to retrieve. Nothing would allow her to sleep this night.
15
CAMBOURNE HOUSE 1830
“Nonsense, Colin. I insist you stay the night. The street is beginning to flood. You’d be risking your life just stepping off the sidewalk.”
Colin regarded his benefactor with a smile. Lord Robert Cambourne was a generous host indeed, inviting him to stay the night, especially when the marchioness had made clear her abundant dislike. Even if the marchioness welcomed him with open arms, his lordship’s invitation should be declined. It was akin to putting a fox in charge of a hen house.
“The roast was excellent tonight, was it not? I think Cook outdid herself.”
Colin wouldn’t know. With Miranda sitting across from him, every movement she made calculated to drive him mad with lust, he’d barely tasted the food.
“My lord, I would not wish to impose.” Dear God, he didn’t think he had enough self-control to spend the night under the same roof as Miranda.
“Colin, your presence is never an imposition.” Lord Cambourne settled into a tobacco- brown leather chair across from Colin with a deep sigh of pleasure. “I do love this chair. It goes back and forth with me from Gray Covington to London. Battered, old, worn.” He gave a bark of laughter. “Much like myself.”
“My lord—”
“You will stay.” The older man’s tone brooked no further discussion on the matter.
Sweet Jesus. How would he ever survive the night with Miranda only a few doors away? Still, he dared not offend Lord Cambourne.
“Thank you, my lord. I would be delighted.”
Hopefully, Miranda had retired for the night and need never know Colin was ensconced in a guest room. Miranda was bent on ruination, and Colin steadfastly refused to bed her before they could be formally betrothed. He also wished to be sure he could support a wife, though he would never be able to support Miranda in the extravagant way she lived as the daughter of a Marquess.
Miranda argued that Colin was being stubborn. Her dowry wasridiculouslylarge. Any other gentleman wouldn’t blink at the thought of all that money. It was normal, ordinary even, to expect a large settlement from a titled young lady.
Colin didn’t feel right about it. If that meant he wasn’t a gentleman, then he wasn’t. He wanted Miranda for herself. Not for the wealth she would bring to him, nor the connections her family provided. He only wantedher.
Thankfully, after nearly three months in London, his financial situation had finally improved. Somewhat.
