Page 47 of Intolerable
“Excellent advice,” he said a bit hoarsely. “Thank you.” He looked past her, but Lady Aldington hadn’t followed her. “What of the countess?”
“She isn’t going to say anything either. Neither of us wish to force Cassandra into something she may not want.”
There was no mention as to whathemight want. He understood their concern for Cassandra—women were often the injured party and paid the consequences. As a man, there would be little repercussion for him. Except what Lucien, and probably his brother, would exact.
Ruark stepped toward her. “Lucien can’t know.”
Her brows dipped. “You think I don’t know that? You should also know that I am aware of your past behavior with women.”
He swore under his breath. “I didn’t realize Lucien had such loose lips.”
“I’ve never breathed a word, and I won’t now. Just know that if you hurt Cassandra, Lucien will not be your most terrifying concern.”
Was she threatening him? It certainly sounded like it. Ruark didn’t plan to find out if she could carry through.
“I would never hurt her.” Not on purpose. But he had caused heartache in the past, and he was already fairly far gone with Cassandra…
“Good. While I won’t force you into it, you really ought to consider marrying her.”
He smoothed his hand over his hair, still unable to take a deep breath. “I think I’ll have that drink now.”
“Yes, do that. I need to go find the rest of the guests.” She turned and left the closet.
Waiting another moment until he was sure his body was as normal as it could get before he went home and frigged himself, he stepped from the closet and walked into the stair hall. Lady Aldington stood in the center.
He glanced toward the almost imperceptible door in the wood imagining Cassandra behind it. She’d needed time—was she all right?
“Don’t even think about going back in there,” Lady Aldington whispered. She’d moved toward him, her brows pitched into an angry V. Indeed, he’d never seen her appear even remotely peeved, and at the moment she looked as if she could take on a brigade of soldiers. And win handily.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He hadn’t meant to sound glib but feared he did. “Honestly, I don’t wish to cause any trouble. I’ll just go to the parlor.”
She pursed her lips and watched him like a predatory bird until he left the hall.
He went directly for where a tray with liquor had been set out atop a table. It was all fortified wine. He needed whisky or gin.
No, what he needed was to leave. More than that, he wanted to make sure Cassandra was all right. While it was a relief to know there would be no consequences from their being caught, that didn’t mean she hadn’t been upset by it. One moment they’d been deep in the throes of their mutual passion, and the next they’d been torn apart by discovery—an act that would normally have sent them directly to the altar. If anyone else had caught them…
He poured a glass of marsala and downed it in one long gulp. If Lucien had opened that door, Ruark would have likely found himself on the dueling field at dawn.
What a fool he’d been. A reckless, thoughtless fool. He was just glad that Cassandra wouldn’t pay the price. It was past time he put her from his mind. He’d gotten what he’d wanted—another kiss—so he could now walk away without continuing to obsess about her.
Only he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. Lady Cassandra Westbrook was well and truly under his skin and would be for some time.
The miniature of Cassandra and her mother sat on the dressing table as Cassandra’s maid, Derry, finished styling her hair. Cassandra had moved it there after having it on her bedside table. She simply couldn’t stop looking at it. Between the beautiful portrait, her memories of Ruark’s body pressed against hers in the most delicious of ways, and the shocking interruption that had somehow miraculously not resulted in her becoming betrothed, she could hardly string thoughts together.
Ruark.She couldn’t think of him as Wexford any longer. He’d been wrong that kissing again would finish things between them. The attraction she felt for him had only intensified.
Which was unfortunate since he couldn’t marry her and after last night’s near-catastrophe, they couldn’t risk being alone together ever again. Thinking of that, and the resulting pain, drove her attention back to the miniature.
Grateful for its distraction, she’d stared at it late into the night. Not just stared, she’d spoken to it—to her mother. The ache of not ever being able to hear a response seared her chest.
“All finished,” Derry said.
“Thank you.” Cassandra turned her head to smile up at her before the maid went about her chores, which took her from the chamber.
Looking back to the miniature, Cassandra studied her mother’s features. She was so familiar and yet not, since this was supposedly how she’d look if she’d lived to the present. There were gentle lines around her eyes but no gray in her light brown hair.
“You really would like Ruark, Mama.” It wasn’t the first time she’d said that since last night. “He’s kind and thoughtful, and he understands me in a way that no one ever has.”
