He dug his blunt nails into his palm.
“I wouldn’t have told them,” he said.
“Can we not talk about it, please?”
Her voice was razor thin, full of her disgust for what they had done, cutting him as surely as if she had wielded a blade.
Hurt and fury welled up in him. It had been building up over the past days, until he thought he’d go mad with it. But after tonight, first being so close to her in the carriage without being able to touch her, followed by the attentions of the local ladies, as well as making certain he didn’t embarrass himself on the dance floor, he finally snapped. Taking her arm in his grip, he pulled her to a stop. “I know what happened between us disgusts you.”
She gasped, her gaze flying about wildly. “Now is not the time.”
“There will never be a good time,” he spat.
She rolled her eyes. “What I mean is, you stubborn man, we cannot discuss this in such a public setting,” she hissed.
“Fine.” Casting a look about the room, he took in the pale yellow walls with their white trim, the soaring ceiling and sparkling chandeliers. Yet there was not a single alcove to hide away in.
Just then the partygoers began moving as one toward the door beneath the musicians’ gallery.
“What the devil is going on?”
“It’s nine,” Lenora replied. “Time for refreshments in the Tea Room.” She grabbed at her skirts, obviously intending to follow the sea of humanity from the hall.
Peter, however, saw his chance to lay this matter between them to rest. Spying a door close by, he grabbed her hand and hauled her through it without a word.
The cool night air hit him as he stepped out onto what appeared to be a long colonnade that spanned the entire side of the assembly room. Carriages and sedan chairs lined the street. But beyond a few smoking grooms huddled in groups and their sleepy horses, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
He turned her to face him. “Problem solved.”
“You can’t bring me out here,” she sputtered. “If you had something to say, why couldn’t you wait until we were back at Seacliff?”
“Because,” he growled, “I can’t trust myself to be alone with you again.”
That stopped her outrage in its tracks. She let out a breath, her face falling slack.
“I know you have no wish for me to renew my…attentions.” He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable and questioning his wisdom in even bringing the subject up in the first place. “I merely wanted to tell you that I won’t. That’s all.”
But she was frowning. “You mentioned before bringing me out here that your…ahem, attentions…disgusted me.”
“Yes,” he bit out. “Your point being?”
“My point is,” she said, flushing so bright, he saw it even in the faint light from the street lamps, “they did not. Disgust me, that is.”
Her attempts at appeasing him sat cold and bitter in his gut. “You think I believe that?”
Her brows climbed up her forehead. “And why shouldn’t you?”
“Because I saw the proof of your feelings with my own eyes.” When she merely frowned, he let out a harsh breath. “Most women don’t cry when being…kissed.”
Dawning understanding lit her face. “You think because I cried that I was disgusted by you?”
But he couldn’t continue this conversation. Damnation, it had been the height of foolishness to bring her out here, and was only increasing his torment. “Forget I said anything,” he mumbled.
“I shall not.” To his surprise, she stepped closer, lowered her voice to a delicious rasp. “I cried because I was overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed,” he repeated blankly, trying not to think about how wonderful she would feel in his arms.
“Yes.” She cleared her throat and looked down to her toes. “I haven’t felt such strong emotion in…well, ever.”
