“Really, Arabella. You ought to be more careful.”
I straightened and glared at him and all his pretentious concern. “I didn’t know I had to be careful. I thought you might have finally realized how completely futile your presence here was and returned home.”
“Let me clarify so no further confusion occurs.” Rowan leaned back against the drawing room door and casually tucked one hand into his waistcoat pocket. “I’m not leaving this house until you vow you love me and consent to be my wife.”
“Excuse me?” There is no way I had heard him correctly.
“You are excused, my dear.”
My dear?This was getting worse by the second. I set my good hand on my hip. “You might have grown out of some of your more vexing traits, but I have no plans to fall in love with anyone but Mr. Clodwick.”
He smirked. “Is that even possible?”
I stuck out my chin. “I am well on my way already.”
“This wasn’t the setting I imagined for talking this out with you, but I suppose now will have to suffice. Based on your confessions in Quillsbury, you wanted to be engaged to him because of a complicated matter, and time was of the essence. I do not believe you care one wit for Mr. Clodwick.”
“And you believe I care more for you?” I shook my head. He had always thought highly of himself, but this was insufferable.
His voice lowered. “I think there is a strong possibility.”
I refused to let his sultry voice affect me. “There is also a strong possibility that I might strangle you if we were ever to wed.”
He tilted his head as if he believed me capable but was calling my bluff. “Then there is not even the smallest part of you that could think of me as your husband?”
I clasped my hands tightly together, pushing images out of my mind one by one as they surfaced: reading together on a blanket by the seaside on vacations, discussing literature over cups of steaming melted chocolate with our feet by the fire on a cold winter’s night, or him smiling at me like I was the only one who mattered to him in the world. Thosewere figments of an overactive imagination, but hardly realistic. I was much too intelligent to think we would get along for a minute, let alone a lifetime. “Not at all,” I spat.
A flash of vulnerability crossed his face so quickly I almost missed it. “Is thereanyquality I possess that you might be drawn toward?”
I set my jaw. I didn’t want to wound him overmuch, but I had to be firm so there was no doubt in his mind. “You are a decent fellow for some. But there is nothing that even the devil himself could say that would tempt me to accept your suit.”
He drew his cheeks in and scoffed. “Nothing that would tempt you? So then you do not find me even theleastbit attractive?”
Could he be more conceited? “I have more fondness for a half-dead tree.”
“Half-dead tree,” he repeated.
I cleared my throat. I would revise that insult later. I was merely grateful some of my words were making sense at all.
Rowan pushed away from the wall and closed the gap between us with two purposeful steps toward me, leaning his head terribly near mine. “Then being this near to me shouldn’t bother you at all.”
I wanted to pull away, but I couldn’t show any sign of weakness. I shook my head and held firm.
He lowered his head another inch.
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I could barely think past his warm breath on my lips. My heart thudded dangerously in my chest, like a warning drum.
Danger. Danger. Danger!
No one had died from being near a man before, had they? If he dared kiss me, I might expire. But he wouldn’t dare . . .
Or would he?
My skin tingled and my lips softened, waiting for the inevitable. A strange curiosity flared in my chest. I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to kiss Rowan Ashworth. That’s all this uncanny pull between us was. Curiosity.
And thesmallestbit of desire.
His eyes drifted closed.
