She cocked her head. “I have no illusions about men of power. Your friends all seemed to have their dalliances before they settled down into what appear to be very happy marriages. But you have said it yourself—you are not like them. You’ve made seduction into an art form.”
“Compliments, compliments,” he drawled, teasing in order to press a wall down harder between them.
She seemed to recognize the trick, for she didn’t respond, but just stared at him. Waiting for his answer. His explanation that was so much more complicated than she knew. Than he had ever said to anyone, even his friends.
There were some secrets no one knew.
He cleared his throat. He intended to say something flippant. Something meaningless. But that wasn’t what fell from his lips when he spoke.
“It has always been a way to do exactly as you said earlier. It’s a way to keep people out.”
Her lips parted in surprise. He felt the same emotion. He hadn’t meant to share that with her. He hadn’t even allowed himself to think about it much over the years.
“Robert…” she breathed at last.
He shrugged, shifting beneath her regard and the fact that she now knew something so personal. “You wanted honesty, didn’t you? There it is.”
“How do you mean?” she asked. “Talking about sex as a shield is one thing. It’s a topic that is meant to make others uncomfortable. But to use the act itself as a barrier feels…it’s so intimate.”
He swallowed. Yes, it was that. With her it was that. With her it was something beyond a natural need for pleasure. Something deeper that both drew him in and made him want to run. Run back to London to bury himself in meaningless pleasure with ladies who made him feel nothing.
He cleared his throat. “Passion is control.”
Her eyes widened. “I might beg to differ.”
“It feels like it’s not sometimes,” he admitted. “But you have that control as well.”
She shook her head. “The thing that frightens me most, that kept me up last night, was how much that statement isn’t true.”
“You offered me your pleasure, but you put up a boundary, didn’t you? A line you told me not to cross. If I want the pleasure, I must respect the line. It’s no different with anyone else who engages in an affair. When the lines are drawn, there can be no confusion. No one expects more.”
Her gaze held on him and something in her expression changed. Before she had been open, interested, engaged in this exchange. Now that wall came back up. He didn’t understand why, but there it was. She drew back from him a long step, her eyes grew colder.
There was something more to this conversation for her. And he had no idea what it was.
“What if someone asked you for more?” she asked. His lips parted in shock, but she held up a hand to keep him from responding. “Not me, don’t worry. I mean anyone.”
He pondered that question. Over the years, of course, there had been woman who had angled for more than just his cock. Women he’d liked, even, but had balked at the idea of granting more. He had lovers, not mistresses. He did not court.
“If someone asked for more, I would push them away. Gently, if possible,” he said.
Her lower lip trembled a fraction and she nodded slowly. He couldn’t tell what that statement meant to her, nor why she had asked it. But it was clear it elicited some kind of response.
“Yes,” she said at last. “I suppose you would.” She glanced back at the house. “You know, I think it would be best if I returned. Please continue with your walk, Your Grace. Good morning.”
“Katherine,” he said, longing suddenly to keep her with him. To find out how this conversation had turned so suddenly and bring her back to the easy connection they sometimes shared.
But she ignored him. She walked away and kept walking. And she never looked back. A fact that felt like someone had pressed their fist through his chest, gripped his heart and squeezed.
He’d had that feeling only once before in his life. Now he clawed to make it stop as he struggled to find another emotion to replace it. Another thought to keep the darkness out.
Katherine was dangerous. It was in his best interest to cut her away now before she wiggled her way even further into his mind, his heart. And yet all he wanted to do was chase her.
He wasn’t certain whether to hate her or admire her for that.
The morning had been bright, almost too bright, but now, several hours later, it had turned. Rain streamed down the windows, keeping the party inside.
Katherine had no idea what the rest of the group was doing, but at present she was tucked into a quiet parlor, book in hand. A book she wasn’t reading. Instead she stared at the inclement weather and scowled. It reflected her heart, really, and she resented that. Bright after her night with Robert. Cloudy and uncertain after their troubling conversation that morning.
