Page 34 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“If love were truly real as the poets speak of it, it would endure, it would last. Married couples would be happier and faithful. But that doesn’t ever happen.”
He eyed her silently for a moment. “Does it make you uncomfortable when I look at you?” he asked.
“No, why?”
“You’re flushed. And your breathing is erratic.”
“I believe I’m having a reaction to being this close to you,” she said, her voice sounding breathy.
He chuckled. “I always have a reaction being close to you, Bluebell.”
“It is not a feeling I care for.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t feel completely in control of my faculties and that is unacceptable.”
“What exactly are you afraid of, Agnes?” Fletcher asked.
“You,” she admitted. “The way I feel when I’m near you. As if I could lose control at any moment.”
“Do I make you angry?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You make me want, want you, Fletcher. You make me hot and damp,” she whispered the last word. “Lately I am utterly distracted by desire. When I’m in your presence, I can scarcely think of anything save you touching me, kissing me. And it’s terrifying.”
He swore, forked his fingers through his hair. “Agnes, you have no idea how I want those things. How much I want to touch you. Kiss you.”
She leaned closer to him. This brazenness was intoxicating, and she knew she was playing with fire. Still, she couldn’t help herself from reaching out and placing her palm on his chest. She clenched the fabric of his shirt ever so slightly. “The desire I feel for you scares me, because it makes me think that I’m more like my mother than I want to believe. Perhaps those men are right about me. Perhaps they can see something in me that others cannot. Something I don’t even recognize myself.”
He swallowed. “No, Agnes, you must not think such things. There is nothing wrong with desire. There is nothing wrong with passion. You shouldn’t fear it. And as much as I’d like to believe that I am the only man alive to elicit such feelings in you, certainly you know that I am not.”
“I wish I believed you. I much preferred my theory that one required an emotional attachment to find passion,” she said. It was safer.
He shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right and I’m wrong.”
“We already tested that.”
“True, but I do believe that scientists rarely stop at one experiment before making a concluding theory.”
She was quiet for a few breaths while considering his words.
“I see you heeded my advice,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“The blue dress.” Again, his eyes took her in, their warm golden color darkened. “You are stunning, Agnes. The other women in the room, and I’m only assuming there are others because I haven’t actually seen any, pale in comparison.”
“Thank you.”
“I know you believe me to be nothing more than a shallow flirt, but you must know that I mean everything I say to you. Every word. I always have.”
She nodded, unable to respond.
“Please tell me if my compliments ever make you feel the way others have made you feel.”
“Never,” she whispered.
He nodded. Then a grim expression fell over his features. “Have any men made any untoward advances to you this evening?”
