Page 39 of Intolerable
Redoubling his efforts, he cleared his thoughts and gritted his teeth. Lunging forward, he threw a punch toward Mort’s chest only to have the trainer neatly avoid the strike.
As if it were that easy.
The voice in Ruark’s head was hers. Taunting and teasing him as her lush lips curved into a tantalizing smile.
Mort hit him again—squarely—in the stomach. Ruark grunted as he staggered back.
“You can’t fight in Fred’s prizefight if you’re distracted like this.” Mort stood still, his brow creased, and his mouth set into a disappointed line.
Ruark put his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. No, he couldn’t. Apparently, he hadn’t banished Cassandra from his brain. But he would. It always took time when he had to get over…things like this.
“Is this going to be a problem?” Mort asked. “The fight is on the eighteenth.”
Hell.How could he possibly get over Cassandra when he couldn’t even admit what he felt for her?
No, he didn’t feel the same. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. She was Lucien’s sister.
Thatwas it. He’d been holding himself back instead of allowing the emotion to wash over him. He’d tumbled into a kiss and had spent every moment since then keeping her at bay.
“Have you considered pursuing this one?” Mort asked softly. “Or is she not someone you can wed?”
He’d fallen for his first mistress when he’d been twenty-one. Even if he’d wanted to marry, he couldn’t have taken her as his wife. That hadn’t stopped him from behaving like a lovesick fool—his father’s warnings had been quite accurate.
Cassandra was not a courtesan, however. Hecouldmarry her. Except for two critical and inhibiting details: she was his best friend’s sister and her father had forbidden him from courting her.
“No, she is not,” Ruark affirmed. “I would appreciate it if you would refrain from mentioning or asking about her. I am doing my best to put her from my mind.”
“My apologies.” Mort inclined his head. “Are you certain there is no way forward?”
“None.” Ruark took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Now, can we try again?”
Mort shook out his hands. “Whenever you say.”
Despite his best efforts, Ruark was unable to properly focus, and they ended the training session early. Mort encouraged him to withdraw from the prizefight if he couldn’t get himself sorted in the next few days. Unless he didn’t mind taking a beating from Garnham.
Ruark stalked from the club, his insides churning with tension. He didn’t want to withdraw, but he also didn’t think he could expel Cassandra from his mind before the fight.
He simply had to find a way to manage this. If only he didn’t want her so badly. Last night when she’d bared her emotions to him, sharing the pain of losing her mother, he’d wanted nothing more than to hold her close and never let her go.
As he strode toward Mayfair, too pent up to hail a hack, he cursed his nature. Why was he like this? His father seemed to have known he would be. Why else would he have made Ruark swear to remain unwed until he was thirty? Because his father had been the same. He’d quickly fallen in love—with Ruark’s mother. Only, he’d married her and seemed to regret it after, presumably, fallingoutof love. The fact that Ruark only remembered them bickering seemed to support that.
Ruark had never asked his mother about it. Why dredge up a potentially painful past just to confirm his supposition? Still, she would be here in a matter of days, and hecouldask her. Perhaps she could explain to him why he was like this. Why it was so damned easy for him to lose his heart.
When would he know it was time to give it to the right person?
Chapter 10
“Thank you again for the pendant, Father.” Cassandra touched the flower made up of garnet stones, which hung from a sparkling gold chain. He’d gifted her the necklace earlier in celebration of her twenty-second birthday. She’d chosen to wear an ivory gown trimmed in scarlet so the red accents would match the garnets.
He gave her a rare smile from beside her. “You’re very welcome, my dear. It looks lovely on you.”
The coach stopped in front of Constantine and Sabrina’s house, and a footman came to open the door, helping Cassandra down. The duke followed and then the footman assisted Prudence to the pavement.
“I admit I’m surprised your brother invited us for dinner,” the duke observed.
“He’s a rather different person of late,” Cassandra said. “He is happier than I’ve ever known him to be.”
Her father didn’t respond as they entered the foyer. A footman took her wrap, as well as Prudence’s, and a flash of white fur darted by, followed closely by one of gray.
