Page 14 of Brazen Rogue
Dear Lord, how much wine did he consume this evening at dinner not to have realized he held her near him after several minutes?
You like holding her. You want to embrace her again.
And that was the rub. Not that either of them would act upon it, not after their conversation a fortnight ago.
His daughter deserved a steady, uncomplicated life and did not need her name sullied by scandal. As it was, she would be associated forever with her mother, the woman who left them both to travel the world with her lover. A woman who left countless debts across Europe for him to remedy when the accounts and letters of demand arrived.
He could not satisfy the growing lust, the affection he once harbored for Miss Hall, now his daughter's governess.
She stared at him, her eyes large blue pools that reminded him of a deep loch in Scotland he once admired.
"The house is prepared for the guests, I'm told. Some of whom you're associated with," he said, wanting to please her even when he should not.
"Once were associated with, my lord. My circumstances in life do impose limits on me and whom I can speak to," she said, reminding him of how he must have sounded when he placed the unspoken line between their social spheres.
High and mighty. Dismissive and warning her away. How she must detest him now.
He needed to stop pining for the woman before him, but blast it all to hell, he could not. Even now, when he knew better, when he had declared the rules verbally that they must both adhere to, he wanted to reach for her. Remind her of how well they fit together.
Just as they had that one long-forgotten night in London.
ChapterEight
Reign felt as though she was trapped. Caught between desire and denial. She shouldn't want the man who stood before her in a dark, quiet passageway of his ancestral home, and yet she could not force her feet to move either.
They refused to heed what her mind was screaming at her.
Leave. Run. Return to her room before she succumbed to his charms for a second time.
She needed this employment to ensure her survival and plans to come to fruition. To throw herself at him, to take what she wanted was madness. Worse, she did want him. Desperately so. She longed for every part of him. To kiss and revel in the feel of his hunger. The very thought of it left her breathless and she fisted her hands at her sides, forcing herself to stop. To think.
"Please do not look at me like that, my lord. It is not fair," she pleaded. And it was not proper.
So much of her life had been taken from her, her hopes and dreams.
She had moved to the Lake District determined to take the first step of many to her new life, only to arrive at a destination that threw her back into the predicament she found herself years ago.
"How am I looking at you?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr that made her question her morals. He stepped closer still, towering over her. She had little doubt he knew what he was doing. How he was making it near impossible for her to deny him. To deny them both.
Her stomach clenched, and she raised her chin, determined not to fall.
Do not slip, Reign. Everything depends on you keeping your head and your heart ...
"As if you wish to kiss me," she breathed, the breath in her lungs tight, making speech difficult. In fact, being this close to the marquess had always had this effect on her.
Blasted, a disgustingly good-looking man that he was.
"And if I did, would you kiss me back?" He clasped one of her hands and slipped it into his. His palm was soft, his fingers long and strong as they wrapped about hers, holding her close.
"You warned me away but a fortnight ago, and I can smell the scent of whisky on your breath. Please do not say one thing when you have your wits and slide into this character when you do not. It is beneath you," she said, needing to chastise him, if it meant that he would stop talking to her in such a way.
Stop taunting her with a life that was not hers to live.
Not anymore.
Her words seemed to pull him out of the trance he was living in, and he stepped back, dropping her hand. "You are right, of course. My apologies, Reign," he stated, using her given name when he should not. "I knew it would be hard to live here under this roof with you and not come across you at different times of day and night and fall back into the easy conversation we had when we were in London. I forget that you're a governess when I see you about."
And beneath his notice, she understood, watching him. He ran a hand through his already unruly hair. "I wish you a good night," he stated, walking past her toward his room.
