Page 96 of Never Love a Lord
He was quiet for a moment, and when he did speak, he did not sound angry. “Why not?”
“Because it seems I don’t know who I am after all.” She gave a dark chuckle. “You can’t marry a stranger.”
“You’re not a stranger to me, Sybilla,” he said easily. “I might even go so far as to say that I know you better than you know yourself. In fact, I’m certain of it.”
“You think a lot of yourself. Fallstowe gone to your head, has it?”
“I’ve heard it has that effect on those at its helm,” he quipped, not unkindly. “And yes, I think a lot of myself. Of you, as well. I know what we are capable of as individuals—what we’ve already accomplished. I shiver for the world at large once we are united.”
He meant it as a joke, and perhaps at another time Sybilla would have found it funny.
“Your confidence is self-made, Lord Griffin,” she said. “And that is to your benefit, because that means it is proven and true. My confidence . . . was based on nothing more than duty and survival.”
“I don’t believe that’s true at all,” Julian countered. “And it seems you have forgotten my given name.”
“I don’t care what you believe,” Sybilla said, ignoring his allusion to her withdrawal of intimacy.
“Iknowthat’s not true.” He came to stand at her side. “You’re hiding from me, and there is no reason for it.”
“I’m not hiding from anyone.”
“That’s all you’ve ever done!” Julian said. “You hid from your mother’s past behind a desperate facade of aloofness. You hid from the king. You hid from love. The great and frightening Sybilla Foxe hides from herself because she feels she must be defined by other people! Are you a coward?”
She tossed the contents of her drink at him, and then in the next instant threw the cup itself, aiming for his handsome, rugged face.
He deflected the projectile easily, and then moved in on her faster than a lightning strike, seizing her upper arms and dragging her to him. The liqueur dripped from his hair and stained his rich tunic.
“Quit behaving like a child, or I shall be forced to turn you across my knee.”
“I will break both your arms with a toss of my head,” she warned, putting her nose close to his. She could feel her flesh pulsing toward his body.
He moved in even closer, so that their breaths mingled and then reached for the closure pin at the crown of her head. He yanked the crispinette free. “Let me loosen your hair for you first.”
Then he kissed her.
They fell to the floor between the hearth and the back of the low couch.
She heard her gown rip.
And for a little while, Sybilla was alive again.
Julian stood over Sybilla, where she still lay on the thick rug with her gown about her hips. Her head was turned to stare at the flames, and she seemed oblivious to the fact that she remained mostly uncovered. Julian’s knees were trembling, but he would not let her know how moved he was at that moment.
“You have one week, Sybilla,” he said, relacing the placard over his manhood.
She turned her head to him at last, and the odd combination of red flames reflected in her icy eyes nearly made him stagger on his feet.
“We will meet again in one week, and you will give me your decision as to whether you will be my wife or not,” he reiterated. “In that time, you need not see me, speak to me, or to Lucy. You are free to do as you will. But I am lord here now, and one week from today, I will have your answer.”
“All right, Julian,” she whispered. “One week.”
He hesitated then, but only for a heartbeat. “Good evening.”
Then he turned and left her there alone in the solar, and Julian thought it might have been the hardest thing he’d ever done.
Chapter 31
Julian was true to his word.
