Athena allowed herself to slump against him, to revel in his strength and kindness, even if he didn’t always understand what was going on in her head and her heart.
“I love ye, lassie. I just want what’s best for ye.”
“I ken, Da,” she sighed against his shoulder. “But sometimes… I mean, thisisthe best.”The best that I could hope for, at least.
She felt him blow out a breath, likely in frustration, but he didn’t say anything else. Instead, he planted a kiss on her crown—as if she were a child again—and gently disengaged. He didn’t meet her eyes as he shuffled from her room once more, on his way to his own chambers to dress to impress Lady Dumpkins tonight.
And as for Athena…
With a sigh, she sank down atop the stool in front of her dressing table, eyeing her reflection.
There’d been so much she’d given up for Callan, and it had been worth it. But to learn that, despite her best efforts to teach him right from wrong, he still got up to mischief? Parenting was so bloody difficult, wasn’t it?
She propped her elbow up on the table and dropped her forehead into her hand. Only two hours ago, she’d been blissful in Cash’s arms. She wanted more of that, but for now, reality—and responsibility—reared its head.
The night’s festivities—and the dreaded dance with Dumpkins’ duke—loomed ever closer. Her maid would be here momentarily to help dress Athena in her ugliest gown. But strangely, the revelation that Callan was getting into trouble had been helpful; instead of dreading her foray into Society, she was busy thinking about the things which really mattered.
Herson.
Her son, whom she loved. Her son, whom she’d chosen when it came down to either being a mother or being in Society’s good graces.
Five years ago, she’d been a young lady, newly graduated from finishing school, with stars in her eyes, and she’d fallen in love with a gentleman whom she thought loved her in return. It had taken strength to decline his suit, knowing what Society would think of her… But when others had urged her to have the babe in secret and give him away to a good family, she’d rejected that plan.
Callan was worth more to her than all the balls and musicales and fancy dresses and dances with dukes at house parties.
The last few weeks, the time spent with him and Matthew and Cash, had been worth more than the disdain she was sure to experience tonight. Tonight, when she danced with the stiff, snobbish duke her friends had all described, she’d wrap herself in the memory of being in Cash’s arms, and she’d be able to make it through.
After all, it was only one dance.
What could go wrong with only one dance?
CHAPTER 7
This collar was stifling, but Cash shouldn’t be surprised. He’d endured more than a few of these excruciating evenings since the Dumpkins house party had begun, each one more boring than the last. Not for the first time, he damned himself for agreeing to Matthew’s demand to find a new wife.
He didn’twanta new wife. He wanted Athena.
No. Thinking of her this evening will not help you.
Even though she was the one making him so miserable. If he hadn’t spent the afternoon naked in her arms, showing her with his body exactly how much she’d come to mean to him, then perhaps this blasted formal attire wouldn’t seem quite so confining.
The memory of her laugh, her smile…it was going to be all he could think of as he danced with whatever young miss the Countess of Dumpkins threw at him this evening.
Why in damnation had he agreed to this? Surely the Countess would understand if he bowed out one week and sent his regrets. Of course she would; the woman was almost comical in her attempts to impress him. She wanted the bragging rights associated with an important duke making a marriage match atherparty.
But rather than encouraging him, this summer had taught Cash he didn’twantone of the ladies at the Dumpkins party. He wanted a woman who could laugh easily and accepted his son as her own. One who made him want to forget his duties, rather than hide in them.
You’re thinking of her again, aren’t you?
Well, why not?
Grimacing, Cash resisted the urge to tug at his collar again and tried to focus on whatever the local laird was saying to the third man in their little group. Luckily, the man’s son—wasn’t he the Viscount Blabloblal?—was offering up all the necessary responses, which covered Cash’s abysmal lack of manners.
You’re going to have to tell Matthew you don’t want to marry.
That actually wasn’t entirely true. The last month had just helped him remember what hedidwant in a companion, wife or not.
He should’ve asked Athena to be his mistress when he had the chance.
