Margaret did not argue with him. It was what she’d intended, wasn’t it? It was what she’d had in mind when she’d allowed him to court her. She’d wanted a gentleman who would treat her well and make for an excellent companion; a gentleman with whom she could share intellectual conversations and attend cultural events in London.
So long as he could give her a child.
But then she realized her gaze had settled on his lips and a disturbing memory upended her conviction—the memory of a man’s mouth exploring her skin as though he would starve if he could not consume her. The memory of his hands touching her, grasping at her, igniting sensations she’d only dreamt about.
Could such emotion be sustained, or would it quickly burn itself out and leave nothing but ashes in the end? It was a frightening prospect. Also, a moot one.
“I do not wish to be alone for the rest of my life. Neither do I wish to depend upon my brother and his family for companionship.” And all of this was still true.
“Noble endeavors indeed. Provided you choose wisely. But of course, there is that other matter—a necessity that cannot be provided by one’s family or friends.” And now, it seemed he was taunting her again. “Thus, the need to know…”
Ah, yes, indeed he was taunting her. When she turned to give him a bit of a set down, she was unnerved by how close his eyes were. With the moonlight slanting across him, the gray almost flashed silver.
She hated how muddled her thoughts had become. She’d chosen her path rationally. When she went to deny what he suggested, the words stuck in her throat.
Because he was not wrong. She closed her mouth and swallowed hard.
“What will you do when you long for adventure—for yourself—after this wise and noble wedding takes place?” He was not taunting her now. Nor was he smiling.
“Why do I need adventure?” But his question disquieted her—even more so than she had been when she’d first wandered outside. Last year, she had moved away from Land’s End and taken up residence in London as a widowed woman. She had…
“Why indeed? You are quite prepared, then, to settle down comfortably in the country for what remains of your life.”
Again, the thought made her… itchy.
“It isn’t the same for women, My Lord. We aren’t afforded the years that a gentleman is—to chase other dreams—not if we wish to have children and a family.” She grimaced. It was the way of the world. “What of you? Why have you not sailed off to unexplored lands? You are young. You have the means.” Oh, but he was the heir to a dukedom. Of course, he would not be allowed to go far.
“I intend to.”
“But you are your father’s heir.”
“I have a younger brother.” He shrugged.
“You would leave your responsibilities to another?” Oh, he was not only young but irresponsible as well.
He stepped away from the wall, putting more space between them. “At the risk of being rude, you don’t know me, Lady Asherton.”
She tilted her head. “And yet you have presumed to knowme.”
“Touché.” He stood with his feet shoulders’ distance apart, his arms crossed in front of his chest, intensity blazing in his gaze. “But do not forget that it was you who admitted that you require intimacy in your marriage and that you are uncertain if my uncle will provide it. It was you who climbed into my bed unclothed. It was you who whimpered as I touched you, and it was you who begged me to satisfy your needs.” He smiled wryly. “So, do not be mistaken, My Lady. I know far more about you than you know about me.”
His words hurt. She could hardly stand to look at him but was trapped by his gaze.
He stepped to the wall again, directly in front of her this time. Who was he? He was not a boy. He was every inch a man—a man who intrigued her.
And God help her, again, he was right.
About all of it.
His eyes flicked to her lips, and she wondered if he was going to try to kiss her. Did she want him to kiss her? She didn’t move.
Her body wanted it. Her head did not.
“Duly noted, My Lord.” It was she who stepped away this time. Her disquiet had tripled by now. Not bothering to wish him a good night, she spun around toward the terrace door.
“You are not married yet, Lady Asherton. And I am quite willing to finish what we started.” His words met her ears just before she swung the door wide and reentered the drawing room.
No one seemed to notice her as she stepped back inside until Penelope glanced over and then crossed the room in her normally swift manner. “Mr. Kirkley was looking for you.”
