Page 33 of A Rogue's Downfall
And then she pushed violently away from him, gathered up her skirt, and fled back the way they had come.
“Caroline,” he called and took a few steps after her.
But she only increased her pace, if possible. He stopped. For some reason he had embarrassed herdreadfully. She had been dreaming of him? She hadthought the kiss part of a dream, and she had identifiedhim as her dream lover? When he was a stranger toher? A stranger she had seen only during the Seasoneven though he had not seen her.
Damnation, he thought, clenching and unclenching his hands at his sides.
As he expected, she was not in the drawing room when he returned there and did not reappear for therest of the evening.
It was half an hour before noon when she had met him the day before. It was a little earlier than that whenshe came downstairs now, pale from a night of littlesleep, nervous at having to carry through this encounter, wishing that she could be anywhere else on earth.For starters, she could die of mortification. She hadspoken his name aloud! If only she could have sleptduring the night, she would have had nightmares overthat fact. But that was not the worst of it, of course.She was going to have to face him this morning andbring their wager to its conclusion. And then what?
The rest of her life looked frighteningly blank. Not that it would be, of course. The remnants of good sensein her told her that this heightened emotion would notlast forever or even for very long. Soon, or at least inthe not too distant future, life would settle back intoits routine and she would think of her marriage prospects again. But oh, that was no consolation now. Nowit felt as if her life was to end within the next half hour.
If he had come, that was. If he had not hidden himself away somewhere—in the billiard room with some of the other gentlemen, for example. Or if he had notgone away, afraid that after all she would trap him intomarriage.
He was in the hallway when she came down and looked as if he might have been pacing there for sometime. Had she been able to look critically, she mighthave noticed that his own face showed signs of a certainsleeplessness too. He had not slept well, if at all, and hewas not looking forward to the coming hour. It franklyterrified him. He was not an adventurous man, he hadrealized during the night. His life had been predictablefor the last number of years. He liked it that way. Heresented the fact that change was sometimes inevitable.
“Caroline.” He smiled at her, bent over her hand, and kissed it. “Almost exactly on time. Shall we findsomewhere private?” His heart was beating in his chestfit to burst through. How many hours had passed sincehe saw her last? Thirteen? Fourteen? It seemed morelike a hundred.
“Yes,” she said.
He led her outdoors and stood looking along the terrace, first one way and then the other, before leading her in the direction of the woods at some distance fromthe house. There appeared to be no walkers theretoday.
“Well,” he said, “did your amazon sleep at the foot of your bed last night?”
“Yes,” she said.
He did not attempt more conversation. They walked in silence, her arm through his, until they reached theshelter of the trees and he could release her arm inorder to set his back against the trunk of a tree and foldhis arms across his chest.
“The moment of truth,” he said. “Do you want to go first, Caroline?”
She turned to look at him in some dismay and down to examine the backs of her hands, spread before her.
“Or would you rather that I went first?”
“No,” she said quietly. “You have not won, Alistair. I am sorry. I enjoyed yesterday more than I can say. Ilearned to like you. And I learned that you are an attractive man, though I knew it already, and could makeme desire you. I will not deny what must have beenall too obvious to you on the beach. But that is all. Ican feel no warmth of love. You have not won fiftypounds from me, you see.” She looked up fleetinglyand smiled briefly. “But then you need feel no obligation either.”
He said nothing for a long while. But she had whispered his name. She had dreamed of him. She had noticed him even when he had not noticed her. Andshe haddreamedof him. She had desired him. But inher mind, desire and love were not the same thing. Asindeed they were not.
Let us be done, she thought. Let him say something. She wanted to be back at the house. She wanted to bea stranger to him again. He was holding something outto her. A piece of paper. She looked at it.
“What is it?” she asked.
“A draft on my bank for fifty pounds,” he said. His voice was very soft, but it did not have the seductivequality with which she was becoming familiar.
She looked up into his eyes. They looked steadily back at her.
“You have won it,” he said.
She had won it? Her mind felt sluggish. “How?”
“You have made me love you,” he said. “Take it. It is yours.”
She raised her hand. He released his hold on the paper as she touched it. But she was not gripping it. Itfluttered to the grass between them.
“No,” she said, closing her eyes. “No, please. You promised not to lie.”
“And so I did,” he said. “Yesterday was the happiest day of my life, Caroline. Not only that. Itchangedmylife. It made me realize that I have wasted thirty precious years out of a span of perhaps seventy if I amfortunate. It made me realize that I need more than myself and my own pleasure. And it made me realize that I would like more than anything to be needed. Byone person. By the same person as I need. You.”
