Page 7 of A Rogue to Ruin
Anne hadn’t realized until that moment that she had been hoping for something. Perhaps not courtship, but if not that, what? Was she hoping he would tup her in the back corridor of a coffee shop? The idea sent a shameful heat blazing through her. “Then what are we doing together?”
“I don’t know.”
They went silent again, and it wasn’t until he steered her toward his parked cabriolet that she finally stopped, tugging on his arm to do the same.
She looked up at him and put her palm against his chest. “I don’t know what we’re doing, but it’s the thing I look forward to the most. I like you.”I love you.Yes, that was what she wanted to say, but wouldn’t. “I like our adventures. I don’t want them to stop.”
He stared past her, his pupils narrowing and the orange in his right eye becoming larger. “I don’t either.” His gaze moved to hers. “But there will come a time when this—us—must.”
Us.
How she loved that tiny word.
“Then I suppose we’ll have to make the most of every moment.” She stood on her toes and brushed her lips against his. “When we get to the cabriolet, I’m going to kiss you again because I can. Prepare yourself.”
He chuckled low in his chest, his eyes glittering. “I’m learning that I’m not sure I can ever adequately prepare myself for you.”
Pleasure flushed through her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I meant it at as such.” He put his hand over hers, which was still against his chest. “Be warned that I plan to kiss you back.”
Anne couldn’t wait.
* * *
One week later…
She was late.
More than a half hour.
Rafe Blackwell stood across the street from Hatchard’s, just outside the Burlington Arcade, which had opened only a few days prior. His cabriolet was parked nearby, his tiger in command of the vehicle so they could quickly be on their way to Aldersgate Street.
She wasneverlate.
Had something terrible prevented her from coming? Perhaps she was ill or hurt. The thought sent a shaft of stark panic piercing straight through him. And that scared him. Four years ago, he’d promised himself that he would never, ever open himself up to such heartache again.
Yet here he was, waiting for a slip of a woman who made his heart race in a way he’d never expected. Not after what he’d endured—what he’d found and lost.
After another quarter hour, he accepted that she wasn’t coming. Muttering a curse, he walked into the arcade. London’s elite mingled amongst the expensive shops. He wandered into a jeweler and browsed the display cases, stopping when his gaze fell on a cameo carved from oyster shell. He instantly thought of Mrs. Dazzling, because the woman’s curls rioted about her shoulders. Mrs. Dazzling’s hair didn’t quite do that, but one or more of her blonde locks often went astray, despite her best attempts to keep them tamed beneath her hat.
And of course the oyster shell reminded him of her. Would he ever eat another oyster without thinking of their time together?
Without indulging much thought, he sought the attention of an employee. “I’d like to purchase that brooch.”
“Aphrodite?” the middle-aged man asked.
Rafe nearly smiled. Of course it was Aphrodite. He’d always been drawn to depictions of the goddess, though he couldn’t exactly say why. “Yes.”
The man withdrew it from the case with a smile. “What a lovely gift. I’ll wrap it up for you.”
Rafe asked the price and paid the man. It wasn’t a gift. In fact, he didn’t even know why he was buying it.
Because you can.
Perhaps that was it. He was a man of considerable means now. To be able to walk into this new arcade, built specifically for Society’s most prestigious, and not be regarded as an interloper was an achievement.
Nevertheless, he wasn’t satisfied. Perhaps he never would be.
