She needed to get away from this man. What she’d done had been folly, and yet she would not regret it. Could not regret something that for a brief time made her feel wanted and, fool that she was, loved.
“What we shared, I will never forget, and I thank you that my first experience was wonderful.” She would not deny what he’d made her feel. “But it will not be repeated, ever. I will never be a man’s mistress, nor will I allow a man to control me.”
“I don’t want to control you.”
“I want a husband and family, Lord Raine. You cannot give me those.”
“But Diard can?” he growled.
“Perhaps, but I know if I do decide he is the husband for me, he will treat me fairly and with respect.”
“He will not make you happy.” He stood before her dressed only in breeches. Her breasts had pressed to that solid wall of muscle. His body had taken hers as no other had before him, and she’d wanted it and more.
“That is for me to find out. Now I must go, so thank you, Lord Raine.”
“For what?” he snarled.
“Showing me what can be between a man and a woman.”
“It will not be the same with that French dandy,” he snapped. “He will not satisfy you as I did.”
She walked slowly to the door, then turned for a last look at him. The beautiful earl who could never be hers. He was right, of course; no one would ever satisfy her like he had.No one will ever measure up to him either, a small voice in her head said.
“I will have another man in my life, my lord, but this one will be the man whose ring I wear. Perhaps that is Mr. Diard, but then perhaps it is not.”
“You cannot expect me to marry you, surely?” His words were mocking and hurtful. He was striking at her because she’d denied him what he wanted. Her. “I am an earl—”
“And I am nothing,” she said softly. “I understand exactly what you think of me, Lord Raine.”
Walking through the door, she closed it softly behind her. Then ran down the stairs and out the door. She did not let the tears fall until she’d put two streets between her and the man she loved.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Five days after he’d made love to Dimity, Gabe attempted to focus on the newspaper again as around him his brothers discussed their plans for the day.
His coffee had yet to arrive, and as he was the only one without a cup in front of him—his brothers preferred tea in the mornings—that irritated him more than it should.
The simple truth was he wasn’t himself. Almost as if suddenly he was directionless. Gabe was never directionless.
He knew the minute he opened his eyes what needed to be done and why. But after making love to Dimity, he felt as if someone had cut his moorings and he was now drifting at sea. A dangerous state, considering someone wanted him dead.
Bloody infuriating Dimity Brown.
God, she’d been magnificent. He had relived every second of their encounter. The feel of her skin and taste of her lips. His body moving inside her slick heat.
Christ, this has to stop!
She’d turned him inside out and then left after telling him that perhaps she would wed that French lace-wearing imbecile, and perhaps she wouldn’t.
She wouldn’t!
“Daniel sent word that Abby is still ill with morning sickness,” Nathan said.
“Let’s hope it passes swiftly,” Gabe replied. He would send her something. He didn’t like it when one of his siblings was ill and he couldn’t do anything about it.
“He said it’s best she rests for a few days,” Nathan added.
“And I’m sure he’ll make her do just that,” Zach said.
