She frowned. “And you thought I had.”
“It doesn’t matter what I thought. Your lover should be the man you marry.”
“According to the dictates of men. What about my feelings on the matter?”
He smiled. “Sweetheart, Iamthinking of you. If I were the selfish rake society paints me to be, you would be in my bed right now.”
His eyes still burned with desire. He wanted her as much as she wanted him, but still held to this ridiculous notion that sending her home untouched would make everything all right, when the slightest rumor led to discovery. And she knew thetonfound everything about Lord Debnam a fascinating topic of conversation. It was nonsense to think otherwise, but it was as if he needed to believe it.
How quickly he gained control of himself. If she were familiar with the ways of seduction, could she have touched him there, aroused him and made him want her too much to turn her away? Then they would confess their most intimate secrets and she could help to make him see how wrong he was about himself.
What folly!
“No need to escort me. I should go alone. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves,” she said with bitter irony, and the stark expression in his eyes told her he knew it.
He nodded. “Perhaps it is best.”
Debnam opened the door.
“Good night, Debnam.”
She refused to call him “Brendan” again, even in her thoughts. It hurt too much. In his determination to do the right thing, he was further away from her than ever. She fled from the billiard room as his quiet “Goodnight, sweetheart,” reached her. The corridor was shadowy with candles guttering in the wall sconces. She darted quickly across the hall where a footman would be stationed, and thankfully, met no one on the stairs.
In her bedchamber, she slumped against the closed door. Her trembling fingers stroked over her sensitive nipples where he’d touched them. She closed her eyes, but the tears still escaped to run down her cheeks.
Laura drew in a shaky breath. She would not allow him to see how he affected her. She would leave here with Robert and put an end to this affair that never was.
*
What a messhe had made of this. At the drinks tray, Brendan poured himself a large brandy. Holding the tumbler, he moodily leaned over the billiard table and flicked the white ball with his fingers. It rolled across the baize to strike the red, and both slid into a pocket.
He could always bed a woman if invited to do so, and he was just as capable of forgoing the pleasure if needs required it. Why he had almost broken that rule tonight eluded him. Nor could he make sense of how drawn he was to Laura. So much so, his willpower deserted him. It had been that way since he’d first seen her seated in the ballroom, looking bored stiff. He’d enjoyed the challenge of making her laugh, but as they’d danced, he’d caught a glimmer of yearning for life in her eyes; it had drawn him like a moth to a candle flame.
Laura was like a sleeping beauty, and he wanted to be the one to awaken her, to make her come alive to passion. While selfishly making his dark corner of the world a little lighter. Well, he had done a splendid job tonight. Laura had responded to him with all the passion a man could wish for. He’d lost himself in her kisses, her soft body, and had come within an inch of possessing her completely when it had become clear how much she’d wanted him to.
Brendan groaned. No matter how much he wanted her, he would not take her innocence and send her home to face whatever that might entail. Trouble was, Laura made him desperate for something he had no right to. Yearning for something more pulled at his heart. But dammit, he refused to damage her more than he had already. She would be gone within a few days. Out of the way of temptation.
Even after she’d gone, he didn’t fool himself. A strong sense of her would stay with him. He refused to believe it was love. His heart had hardened against such an emotion years ago, but it was powerful all the same.
The clock in the hall chimed three o’clock when he retired to bed. Once he closed his eyes, morning would be upon them, and this interlude, which gave him a glimpse into how things might be should she stay, would be a mere memory. His life would continue as it had before. He could find another woman to fill his empty days and his bed but knew that wasn’t the answer. It wasn’t only the physical release he craved. It was the companionship of a woman capable of understanding him. Of accepting him. And he sensed that lady was Laura. But how unfair it would be to draw her into this uncertain future he called his life.
In the morning, when he entered the breakfast room, it was empty. He hadn’t expected to find Laura there. The footman told him she had come earlier, and after a brief repast, had gone to arrange for her luggage to be brought down to the hall.
He’d upset her. Brendan went in search of her. He found Laura in her bedchamber with her borrowed maid, who bobbed and left the room. He stood watching Laura fuss with her reticule. “Isn’t it a little precipitous to pack so soon?”
“It’s best to be prepared.”
“Your brother is unlikely to come today.”
Laura turned to look at him, her eyes sad. “I believe he will.”
He caught his breath, wanting to catch her up in his arms, hold her, and ease her unhappiness. To be where he longed to be, loving her, making her his own. And he tried not to glance at the bed, which loomed out of the corner of his eye. “How can you be so sure?”
She rummaged in the reticule in search of something and removed a small square of lace-edged handkerchief. “Because he will want me to come home. It’s hard for him to manage the servants without me.”
Brendan took the reticule from her, forcing her to look at him. “I am sorry about last night.” He tossed the beaded bag onto a chair. “It seems I am always apologizing, but I can see it has upset you.”
She raised a slim shoulder. “You’re quite wrong. I am not upset. You were right to end it before…” She flushed. “I am ready to return home.”
