Chapter 7 #3
She stumbled back a half step, hastily grasping her disordered clothes around her. There was a thunder of anxiety and lingering bolts of passion roiling inside her. She felt her breath short as she fought to regain her balance.
The earl did not smile. His eyes were hot, hungry as he watched her.
“You’re wicked,” she said, her words choked with tears.
His eyes swept over her furious face. Then, just as with the shutting of a lamp, his expression changed. The Black Raven made his return.
Cold, unapproachable. She watched, wary and confused.
He sighed and swiped a hand over his jaw.
“Your pardon, Lily. I was at fault here. It was not my intent to dismay you. Fear not, soon you will accustom yourself to my touch. As to the estate of marriage, I assure you, it might be strange to you now, but it will not always be,” he said.
“I shall return in three days for the betrothal. We will post the banns at once.”
“You return for nothing. I do not intend that you should touch me ever again. Not ever.” She turned on her heel and started toward the door.
Even now, battling his libido, he found her hauteur amusing. He wondered at himself. He was not ready to relinquish her company just yet. He retreated across the room, giving her as much space as she needed.
He rubbed his chin as if weighing the merits of her statement. “Hmmm, could we negotiate your decision, do you think?”
She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder with a question in her eyes.
“I don’t know about the not touching part,“ he quipped with a boyish grin. “That might prove a sticking point. I’m not sure the bishop would agree to it. The ceremony alone requires touching. Rings and such…consummation, all those nitty-gritty bits and pieces that make a wedding a wedding.”
“Oh, you do not negotiate in truth,” said Lily in disgust. “You, sir, are a black-hearted outlaw.”
Edward hid his smile at her outrage. “If so, the whole world is crooked.”
“I-It cannot—” she began, but just then a new idea floated into her head, prompted by the word outlaw.
She could meet with John, and they could elope. Yes. They could be like outlaws in the woods. Surely someone as clever and resourceful as he would know how to go about it?
Lily knew with a certainty that if it were to happen, she had to make it so. Yes, a meeting with John. That had become more urgent than ever.
They had a tiny window of time. It would have to be done before the betrothal ceremony and the earl’s return. She did not want him anywhere in the shire when she eloped.
She needed to use what Bee called “wiles.” Yes, she needed to outwit this arrogant, wicked man. And she would.
She turned to face him with a forced smile. “Do you know, my lord, you are quite right. I need to reconcile myself to the—”
“Inevitable?” he provided with a lift of a single brow.
He crossed his arms over his massive chest. The look on his face told her that he wasn’t buying her sudden compliance for one instant.
“However you reconcile yourself, Lily, whatever arguments you use to convince yourself, know we will wed. Any negotiation is for the date alone.”
She nodded in keeping with her pretense. “I will try, my lord.”
He watched her with his predatory golden eyes.
“Well, well,” she said, airily waving a hand. “See how the morning passes… I must get busy reconciling myself, if you will excuse me.”
“Lily,“ he said, easy as silk, “I will excuse you nothing. No mistakes, no accidents, no prevarication.” His voice was deadly soft, laced with warning. Even someone as na?ve as Lily recognized that. She refused to meet his eyes.
He refused to allow it. Two strides had him at her side again. “Look at me,” he commanded, and when she did not, he cupped her chin and raised her face. She blanched, but she looked up at him. No feelings showed on his face.
How she wished that he wasn’t so… so pleasing to look upon.
The shadow of his bristles made him dangerously appealing, delineating his fine features, his cheekbones, the handsome curve of his jaw, and his beautiful mouth.
She had to look away, or he would discover the lies inside her eyes, even while she prayed that they would not damn her to hell forever.
He cupped her face so gently, it gave the lie to the arrogance of his words.
“Let me be clear,” he told her. “You and I will stand before the bishop when I return, three days from now.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Did I hear yes? Be sure that it is, yes. You do not want me to drag you from your hiding place in your bedchamber, believe me.”
“I won’t.”
“Won’t what? Say it, Lily.”
“I promise I won’t hide away in my chamber,” she told him.
He was surprised by the word promise, she could tell. Wiles, she told herself. His eyes took on a softer gleam.
He took up her hand in his large, calloused one, the gesture unexpectedly attentive.
Very deliberately, he turned her hand palm up, examining it carefully, running his thumb up and down the middle.
Then ever so gallantly, he placed a kiss in the center.
“Do not make the mistake of crossing me in this, lovely Lily.”
Lily’s heart gave a lurch. She snatched her hand away and ran from the chamber.