Page 55 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

‘No buts. Let’s just forget all about it, shall we?’

‘Forget all about it?’ How the hell was he supposed to forget all about making love to her? How was he supposed to forget all about her rejection of his proposal?

‘All right, maybe not forget,’ she amended, registering his expression. ‘But put it behind us and just get on with our lives. I’ll continue living here with my animals, and you can go off to America, knowing that you’ve done nothing wrong, that I’m not some seduced and abandoned maiden you have to feel guilty about.’

‘Primrose…’ he said, still struggling for words.

She waved her hand in front of her face as if brushing away all his unformed arguments.

‘Goodbye, Lucian,’ she said firmly and went back to scratching the goat’s neck.

Lucian continued to stare at her for a moment longer, then did the only thing he could. He turned and walked away with heavy feet and an even heavier conscience, back to his father’s house.

Primrose continued scratching Marigold’s chin until she was sure Lucian had left and wasn’t going to come back with any more insulting yet supposedly noble-sounding reasons why he would make the supreme sacrifice for propriety’s sake and marry her.

Then she moved to the cane chairs on the terrace and sank down into the nearest one, her legs no longer having the strength to hold her up.

Oh, how she had been tempted to weaken and give in to what she wanted so desperately. To marry Lucian Montclair. To be made love to again and again by that handsome, divine man. To experience that blissful rapture even one more time would be worth forgetting her principles. Wouldn’t it? That was what her heart and body were crying out for. But for once she had taken note of what her mind was telling her, and she knew she had done the right thing.

It wasn’t the right thing as Lucian saw it. Nor was it the right thing as far as Society was concerned, but she knew it was right for her. She would not accept a proposal from a man who did not love her but only wanted to marry her because of some misguided idea of what was expected of him.

She wanted him to love her, and for a moment she had thought she had his love. When she had been in his arms, she had felt loved, cherished and desired, but only one of those three was correct. He desired her. And that alone was not enough.

He did not love her, and with each repeated, insulting proposal, he’d made that ever more abundantly clear. There was no love between them, at least not on his part. It would be wrong to force him into a marriage to a woman he did not love, and she did not want to be married to a man whose feelings were not as strong as her own.

Refusing his proposal was the right thing to do; she just wished doing the right thing did not hurt so much, as if her heart had been crushed inside her chest and even this sunny day now looked dark and bleak.

Doing the right thing would be a much easier burden to bear if images of what they had just shared were not still imprinted on her mind and body. Every part of her could remember the touch of his caressing hands. She could almost taste him on her lips, almost feel the heat of his body against hers, his heady masculine scent still seeming to fill her senses, and she could still almost feel his muscles rippling under her hands.

She ran her fingers lightly across her lips, still tingling from his kisses. She should not think of that. Not when it caused that pounding need to erupt deep within her. Not when it undermined her resolve and made her want to race down the pathway and throw herself into his arms and say Yes, yes, I will marry you. Instead, she had to remain firm, even if it meant she would never experience such intense bliss ever again.

She sighed, causing Marigold to bleat as if in sympathy.

‘I now know just how you feel, sweetheart,’ she said ruefully. ‘But I promise I will find you a mate, one that wants you for who you are and not because he doesn’t want to transgress some stupid rules made up by stupid Society, and not because of some misguided sense of honour.’

She looked over at the wall that separated her from Lucian. Soon he would be gone and she would never see him again. She would never be held by him again. Never kissed again. Never made love to. He would never look at her again with passion sparking in his eyes, letting her know just how much he wanted her.

Jasper’s cruel words broke through her musings. His claim that a man like the viscount would only want one thing from a woman like her and she would be a fool to give it to him stung now more than it had when he’d slung that accusation at her. But he was wrong, wasn’t he? Lucian had offered her marriage. Jasper would never have expected that.

She shook her head, annoyed by where her thoughts had taken her. Why should she care any more about what Jasper thought than she did about what Society thought?

Her cousin might be right about what Lucian wanted from her, but it was exactly what she wanted from Lucian. She just wanted more, wanted his love too, and that she did not have.

She sighed deeply. Instead of gaining his love or entering into a loveless marriage, she would go back to being the wallflower who was rapidly turning into a spinster. She certainly would not think about marrying anyone else, as he had so insultingly alluded to. How could she possibly even think of being with another man after what they had shared?

If it wasn’t him, it would be no one. In other words, nothing would change in her life. Except, instead of being the unwanted and ignored wallflower, she would turn her back on the man she desperately wanted, a man who wanted her but didn’t love her.

She sighed again as a small voice deep inside her wondered whether what he was offering her might be enough. Could she settle for want? Could she take desire without love? That thudding deep in her core resumed its pounding need, as a demanding ache for his touch coiled within her.

Would it be so wrong to just give in to what he was offering her? Or perhaps, instead of marrying him, she could become his mistress. She pictured herself as one of those women who were whispered about, a kept woman. Lucian’s kept woman.

She covered her mouth with her hand as a laugh escaped. That was as far removed from being a wallflower and future spinster as it was possible to get.

But while such a life had its wicked appeal, she knew it was not for her. Apart from anything else, Lucian’s strong sense of right and wrong would never allow it. And even if he did, she could well imagine what would happen. Her love for him would continue to grow every moment they spent together, but without love to sustain it, she had little doubt his desire for her would eventually wane.

The anguish in her heart was almost too much to bear now. She could hardly imagine the torment she would suffer if she continued their liaison, knowing that one day it would all be over.

No, she would have to accept that she’d been lucky to experience physical pleasure one time with a man who she once would have considered completely unattainable.