Chapter 3 #3
With a laugh, he propped himself up on his hand. “Actually, Isabella sometimes also accuses me of being a hypocrite. She says I’m not nearly as bad as I pretend to be, and that I’m not sure myself what I am.”
“Is she right?”
His eyes twinkled. “You’ll have to decide that for yourself.” He ran his finger along the curve of her jaw. Before she knew it, he’d clasped her chin with an intimate grip, and she knew he was going to kiss her again.
She knew, too, that she mustn’t allow it. With a quick motion, she drew back, then sat up, trying to think of something to say that would destroy the spell he had cast on her.
“You mentioned Isabella,” she said, a bit too quickly. “How is she? I would love to see her, although I don’t imagine that’s likely now that she’s moved to Scotland. But I miss her.”
With a sigh, he sat up opposite her. His hair, mussed from when she’d crashed into him, now fell crookedly about his ears. She wanted to tame its rumpled glory with her hands, but resisted the impulse.
“Isabella misses you, too,” he said.
“I doubt she misses me much. Not with her handsome Scottish earl hovering about.”
He scowled. “The bloody bastard. It took ten years off my life when they eloped.”
“I don’t know why. They’re perfect for each other.” She tucked her legs beneath her. “After two years of marriage, she still writes about him in glowing terms, and he seems to dote on her.”
“I suppose he’s turned out all right, but I still say he’s not good enough for her.”
She laughed. “You mustn’t begrudge them their happiness. I know you didn’t think her ready for marriage, but obviously she—and the earl—didn’t agree. And just because marriage isn’t your choice doesn’t mean it can’t be good for someone else.”
Planting his hands on the floor, he leaned back to stare at her. “What makes you think it isn’t my choice?”
His sudden scrutiny embarrassed her. She dropped her gaze to her lap. “Well ... I ... everyone says—”
“You’ve heard the Prince’s ditty about The Fox never taking a wife, I suppose.”
She nodded, confused by the brittle note in his voice. “Isabella told me. She found it amusing that the heir to the throne immortalized her very own brother in verse.”
Turning his face from her, he sighed. “I’m sure she did.”
She looked at him. His face was rigid and closed as he stared up at the bannister.
“Are you saying it’s not true?” she asked.
His gaze shot back to her. For a long moment, he simply watched her. Then he leaned forward and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. “Would it make a difference if I said it wasn’t?”
The dark emotion flickering in his eyes sent a thrill through her. Then she chastised herself for letting his words affect her so. This was undoubtedly another technique he’d perfected for seducing women. She must be careful not to act like a henwit and take him seriously.
“We both know you wouldn’t mean it,” she said.
“Rakes don’t marry. Or if they do, it’s for money or to get heirs.
And since you don’t need money and apparently don’t want heirs, why bother with a wife?
This is obviously another ... er ... ‘trick’ a rake uses to seduce his ‘victim.’ You know, pretending that he’s eligible when he knows he’d never marry the woman he seduces. ”
His expression altered subtly, growing somehow colder, though he continued to caress her cheek. “What if I vowed my sincerity? What if I went counter to all the rumors and asked you to marry me? Would you?”
She chewed on her lower lip, unnerved as much by his touch as by his words.
This must be some sort of game of his. Theresa had warned that some men would say anything, including promising marriage, to get what they wanted.
That didn’t mean they’d keep their promises, however.
So if she took the bait and said she’d marry him, what would he do?
Laugh at her? Seduce her, then abandon her? She didn’t want to find out.
At her silence, his voice hardened, and he caught her chin in an iron grip. “Would you marry me if I offered for you, Althea?”
“Of course not.” She forced her tone to be light. “I’m not fool enough to marry a wicked fellow like you.” Intending to sound sophisticated, she added, “Even if you were sincere and this wasn’t a trick to get me into your bed.”
He dropped his hand from her face, a weary smile settling on his lips. “I’ve trained you too well, I see. You won’t fall for my tricks, will you?”
“If I were another woman who didn’t know so much about your reputation, perhaps I would be fooled, but I know too well that the Fox—”
“—will never marry,” he finished in a sharp tone that confused her.
With cool nonchalance, he stood and held out a hand to her.
“I think we’ve exhausted this tedious subject.
So, how would you like a little refreshment?
” He glanced at the hall clock. “It’s nearly two a.m., and you’ve a few more hours to endure my company. Do you want some tea?”
Confused by his abrupt change of subject, she mumbled, “Tea would be lovely,” and stood.
But as she followed him to the kitchen, she couldn’t help wondering about his peculiar reaction. Was it possible he really did want to marry?
No indeed. Not by all accounts.
And yet ...
The thought roused too many confusing emotions in her, so she put it out of her mind.