“Are we going to…” she asked between great gasps.
He angled his mouth to kiss her. To silence her.
He drew away. In the dim light, his eyes were serious and passionate with intent.
“Guy…” Tantalized and aroused, Hetty couldn’t finish the sentence for the life of her. She loved to lie in his arms, her body eager for his touch. She wanted… she wasn’t sure what it was she yearned for. But, perhaps not yet. Not here. Powerless to stop him, she grew afraid it would spoil something they shared. Something fine.
Suddenly, Hetty found herself deposited back on the seat. Guy cursed. “I’m not taking you here in the carriage. Not your first time, Hetty.”
Hetty gave a sob, feeling part relief and part disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Hetty.” He leaned back with a grimace and adjusted his pantaloons. “I should not have treated you in that manner.”
“I want you, too, Guy.” While it thrilled her that she moved him so, she hated the distance that had sprung up between them.
He eased a lock of her hair from her cheek. “I haven’t forgotten your wish to remain unmarried.”
She stiffened. She now hated the very thought of being a spinster. To condemn herself to a life without love? It seemed unthinkable. She could no longer defend her earlier pronouncement although she feared the life of a lonely poetess would be her future.
“Such a dry and passionless life. And you are far from passionless, Hetty.”
She huffed out a breath, determined to gather together at least some shred of dignity. “I will meet famous poets here. Aunt Emily expects Wordsworth to call again, Byron, too, when he’s in England.” She was aware of how halfhearted she sounded.
“Neither of those gentlemen will keep you warm at night,” Guy muttered through tight lips. He tapped on the roof with his cane. “King Street please, Jason.”
“Right you are, my lord.”
Hetty’s need to argue the point over something that no longer appealed to her, evaporated. He looked so serious in the dim carriage light. Was she enough for him? Why had he changed his mind? Had he not desired her enough? She placed a tentative hand on his arm. “Did you intend to make love to me tonight?”
“No! That was not my intention.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Oh, but I do, Hetty. I definitely do.”
Thrilled, she said, “Then why can’t we…”
His eyes locked with hers. “I don’t want you as my mistress.”
“Oh.” It was a stark declaration. Did he mean it? Even that would be better than being alone.
He took her hands in his. “I have several things I must sort out before we can continue this conversation.”
“Will you tell me what they are?” she asked gently. He had not told her he loved her, so she supposed he didn’t.
“No, Hetty. I won’t.” He tipped up her chin and placed a light kiss on her mouth. “You will keep at me I know,” he said with a smile. “I only ask you to be patient.”
“Oh, Guy. I care for you.” It was an admission that a woman wasn’t supposed to make until the man declared himself. But she couldn’t play games. Not when danger seemed to lurk in every corner.
His mouth curved with tenderness. “I care for you, Hetty, very much indeed.”
“Oh, Guy.” She touched his cheek.
His eyes beseeched her. “Hetty… tomorrow evening, I am engaged to escort Lady Georgina to a ball.”
She frowned. He looked guilty. Bitter disappointment flooded through her. “Alone?”
“With Strathairn. I am indebted to these people who have taken me in.”
“Will you dance with Lady Georgina?” Hetty wrestled with her emotions, she knew the request was unfair, she had no real claim on him.
“I don’t expect to.” He framed her face with his hands. “Know this, Hetty. I do not desire Lady Georgina. If I was able to marry tomorrow, it would be you. No other lady is in danger of capturing my heart.”
