Page 59 of Intolerable
At this point, Cassandra doubted that would happen. She’d seen the shock and fear in Ruark’s eyes at the park yesterday and realized she’d gone too far. But she couldn’t help how she felt, and if that scared him or drove him away—or both—it was best that she learn that now.
The club thrummed with light and laughter and music, but Cassandra seemed to be immune this evening. Her skin felt tight and scratchy, and if she hadn’t wanted to see Fiona so badly, she likely would have turned around and gone home. Perhaps she just needed to dab some cool water on her neck.
Turning to Prudence, she said, “I’m going to dash into the retiring room. I’ll meet you and Sabrina in the ballroom.”
Prudence’s brow pinched above her nose. “I’ll come with you.”
“No, I’ll just be a moment.” Cassandra didn’t want company. She wanted space. After so many years of mostly being alone, was it possible she missed that? She wouldn’t have thought so.
Before Prudence could protest, Cassandra hurried off in the direction of the retiring room. Before she reached it, however, a tall figure swooped into her path.
She looked up, surprised to see Ruark. Even more surprising was the urgent, rather distressed look on his face.
“Come with me,” he said without preamble, as he clasped her arm.
Cassandra dug her heels into the floor. “Where?”
“Upstairs. Somewhere…private. I need to speak with you about a dire matter.”
“Dire?” She couldn’t imagine what that could be. “All right.”
Exhaling, he took her hand and glancing around to make sure no one was watching—there were a pair of women nearing the retiring room, but their heads were bent together deep in conversation—he pulled her to a closed door and then up a back staircase all the way to the second floor.
Opening the door, he guided her into a wide, but dimly lit corridor. Looking left and right, he kept hold of her hand and took her to the left. Almost immediately, he opened another door and guided her inside. Where he promptly swore. “We need a light. Stay here.”
He let go of her hand, left the door ajar so the light from the sconces in the corridor could filter a bit of illumination into wherever she was standing. Pivoting, she realized it was a compact, windowless storage room crammed with a few pieces of furniture, some décor, and several crates.
Returning a moment later with a candle in hand, Ruark came back into the room and this time shut the door. He set the candle atop a stack of crates.
“What the devil is so dire that you had to secret me up here?”
He stared at her a moment, his blue eyes bright in the light of the single candle flickering beside them. Then his arms were around her as he pulled her against his chest, his lips descending on hers.
Though unexpected, his kiss was not unwelcome. On the contrary, Cassandra had feared she’d never experience his embrace again. She relished the feel of his arms around her, the slide of his tongue into her mouth as he claimed what he wanted. Clutching at his neck, she claimed what she wanted—exactly what he was offering.
But wait. Why was he doing this?
Cassandra pulled away from him and forced herself to take a step back. “Tell me of this dire situation.”
“You need to be sick tomorrow.” There was still an odd light in his eyes. He seemed unsettled, agitated.
“Why?” she asked, bemused.
“Glastonbury is going to propose.”
Eyes widening, Cassandra felt suddenly untethered, as if she might float away. She scrambled to remain on earth. “How do you know?” she whispered.
“He told me at the boxing club today. He was rather full of himself, if you must know.”
Now she understood his discomposure. “Are you jealous?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Of course I am.”
A ridiculous glee bubbled inside her. She couldn’t resist taunting him after he’d stalked away from her at the park yesterday. “Perhaps I should accept. My father would be ecstatic.”
The word had barely left her lips before Ruark was kissing her again. He clasped her back, his hands moving over her in a tantalizing display of want. Cassandra put her hands on his shoulders and dug her fingers into the superfine of his coat, returning his kiss with wild abandon.
Moving his mouth from hers, he trailed his lips along her jaw. “You can’t marry him.”
