Page 30 of Snowbound with the Earl
Noelle took Graham’s arm. “That was quite chivalrous, though unnecessary. I was in no danger.”
Graham shrugged. “I didn’t like seeing him stalk you, and then when I heard him accuse you of leading him on, I lost my temper.”
“Is it wrong that seeing you slam him against that stall made me want to kiss you?”
Graham gave her a long look. “Come here.” He pulled her close and backed her against the stall, lowering his warm mouth to hers. Her face was chilled, but his touch sent heat spiraling through her. When he pulled back, their breaths mingled in the air between them.
“I wish we could go back to Dorsey House and your chamber,” she whispered.
“Not possible today.” Graham took a breath and blew it out. He closed his eyes then opened them and met hers. “I know a way we could spend more time together. Every night, in fact, and every day.”
Noelle felt as though all the heat from their kiss dissipated, replaced by an injection of ice in her veins. “Graham, don’t.”
“Why not? You are free of your parents now. You can do as you like. Marry me.”
Noelle closed her eyes. Until he’d said the words, she had hoped they could pretend this wasn’t happening. But the words hung between them—an informal proposal, but a proposal, nonetheless.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Graham. I can’t.”
Eight
Graham didn’t knowif he took a step back or only felt as though he staggered back at the blow she’d given him. This could not be happening to him.
Again.
“Graham, I’m sorry. I just can’t marry you.”
Was she saying that now or was he hearing her words from a decade ago? Either way, Noelle had rejected him a second time.
“I understand,” he said, but he didn’t know why he said that because he didn’t understand. He didn’t understand at all. “If you’ll excuse me.”
He started back for the house, vaguely aware that she called after him. Graham did not look back. Instead, he cursed himself for doing the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do: give Noelle Lincoln Bonneville a second chance.
He didn’t say a word to the Dorseys' butler, didn’t relinquish his hat or coat. Graham climbed the steps and went directly to his chamber. If the roads had been passable, he would have asked Battersea to pack his clothes and left within the hour. Since he was trapped with the only woman he’d ever proposed to (and the only one who’d ever refused him—twice), he had to find another way to cope with his churning emotions. Graham bolted the door to his chamber and stood in the center of the room, eyeing the decanter of brandy and the novel he’d started yesterday.
He took the novel, stripped off his outerwear as well as his coat and cravat, and threw himself into the chair by the fire. He thumbed the pages until he found where he’d left off, and he forced himself to think of nothing but the words on the page.
