Page 60 of The Rules of Matrimony
He didn’t like where this was going. “What do you mean by that?”
She gave the smallest, almost imperceivable shrug. “I’m not a fool. You chose me because I was the last person you could love.”
Her words were like a sucker punch to his gut. She couldn’t actually believe that. “Amie—”
“I shoved mint leaves in your mouth and told you off, remember?” She cut him off. “I pulled my hair out because of Cousin Robert and looked like a mad woman. You saw a charity case, not a wife. I know what I am to you, so there is no use pretending otherwise. The point is you are still free to consider what your father said. We could still end this contract and annul the marriage.”
Did she really think he saw her this way? “Amie—”
“No, Ian. I am much too beneath you; we both know it. You will have opportunities beyond what you have now with the right woman by your side.”
Each statement out of her mouth made his blood boil. And she thought he had disparaged himself, where she was being completely cruel in her self-estimation.
“I heard you agree with your father that I am useless, and it’s true. Listen to him,” she begged, the plea in her gaze undoing him, “and give yourself a chance at living a full life equal to what you deserve. One with a woman who deserves you in return. This isn’t—”
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her to him, cutting her off, and she stared at him, their faces inches from each other. He could feel her chest heaving with surprise against his own.
In a low and husky tone, he mustered the words he had to say, “There is nothing useless about you, and you are not, nor will you ever be a charity case to me.” And he would prove it to her. He did what he’d been resisting since their wedding and set his mouth against the smooth flesh of hers and kissed her. She would know what he really thought of her with every slow, deliberate move. He let himself explore the shape of her lips, one hand curling around her delicate neck and the other bringing her tight against him.
This kiss, even though it was a release of a yearning he’d struggled against, wasn’t for him.
Every touch, pressure, and emotion it elicited was strictly for her. He wanted—needed—for her to know that she was far above what he deserved—she was everything to him. Her quiet beauty was devastating, so much so that after years of resisting passing attractions, he wasn’t capable of resisting her. Her heart was too good, too perfect.
Her hands found his neck, and she started to return his kiss. He sighed inwardly with pleasure, hoping she felt the same. She was warm and soft, and her vanilla scent filled all his senses. She was the right woman by his side—the only one he would allow; she had to know it.
She pulled back enough to breathe his name. “Ian?”
“Hmm?” he said, kissing her again.
“You’re breaking rule number one,” she whispered before meeting his touch again.
He didn’t want to stop, but her reminder was timely. With every ounce of self-control left that he possessed, he pulled back. His hands came up to cup her face, indulging himself in stroking that milky smooth skin he’d missed. “Amie, my reasons for resisting love have nothing to do with you. Trust me when I say, it would not take any effort at all for me to fall madly in love with you.” She blinked, her brown eyes rich in color. “Can you understand that, Amie?”
She nodded beneath his gentle hold, though he could see that she did not quite understand at all. But he didn’t want to spell out alifetime of goals and commitments or his father’s transgressions and his grandfather’s too. There was no need to ruin the moment completely. This would be their memory alone. Something to live by in the lonely years to come.
“Good.” He stripped his hands away from her and forced them to his side. He straightened and squeezed past her, moving a few steps to the door and to safety, his heart pounding dangerously in his chest. He turned back when he reached the edge of the room, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “I won’t kiss you again. Not even if you grow confused. So you mustn’t forget what I’ve told you. It will be a few days until I leave for London, but youwillhave your independence. I might have broken my own rule, but I won’t break my promise about your future. I’ll give you what you’ve always wanted.”
Chapter 30
Amie floated through the restof the day, her emotions suspended by Ian’s kiss. It had lasted a few short minutes, but she had lived a lifetime in them. She wasn’t the same girl her father had abandoned in death, homeless and begging to be cared for. Nor was she the wallflower unnoticed and forgotten.
She had been wanted. And that—despite what she had told Ian before their wedding—was what she truly wanted.
Those strong arms had cherished her, those lips caressed her.
There would be no satisfaction in life now. She had felt the best of it.
At dinner, she tried to school her attention from Ian at the other end of the table and focus on Mama. Increased awareness of him ruined her efforts. She could sense his hands on her waist, back, and cheek. With a subtle lift of her shoulder, she brushed her face against it, hoping the sensation of the memory would fade.
“Amie? Amie!”
She blinked and looked at her mama. “Yes?”
“That’s the third time I’ve asked you to pass the french salad.”
Her brow rose. “Oh, forgive me.” She passed the cold meat strips heavily garnished with shallot, anchovies, and parsley to Mama.
“I do not think you’ve heard anything I’ve said tonight. Are you well?”
