Page 12 of The Notorious Lord Sin
"The thought of you being intimate with anyone makes my blood run cold. I do not like you mentioning it."
"Really," she said, surprise crossing her pretty face. "Well, perhaps you ought to have thought of that before you threw me over for an heiress which …" She frowned, looking about. "I've yet to see you marry. Is there a reason why you did not? Do not tell me you pined for me all these years, for I would not believe it. I know your reputation was as wild and dissolute in France as it was here before you courted me. How is it that you never married?"
Dominic was unsure himself why he had not. Not that he had not had several chances in Paris society to court and marry an eligible young lady who would have suited his stipulations and his mother's lofty ideals. But each time he came close to proposing, Paris's face had fluttered in his mind, taunting him as the one whom he had lost, and the words had never come forth.
"The ladies that I courted were not right. Not in the end. There was always something missing that I could not locate, no matter how hard I tried to make myself speak the words I must."
"I feel for them then. I hope you did not lead them on a merry dance like you did me. That would be cruel and unfair, and I do not wish to hear of anyone else suffering from your haughty ideals."
"I never courted anyone in the way that I pursued you. I danced and had supper, even attended several dinner party events in Paris over the years, but I never overstepped the bounds of propriety as I did with you."
Paris met his eyes and could see he was sincere, and yet still, a part of her wanted to hurt him. To taunt his conscience over how relentlessly he pursued her until he did not. That he had been like a beautiful summer's day one minute and drenching, cold rain the next.
So changeable. So hurtful in his steadfast ways.
"And yet, in truth, you never did anything to me that society would not approve of. They do not know that you took liberties you should not have, or that I allowed them. You left, and I married another. No harm done. Is that not correct? You were a gentleman in every outward way one could be, but when we were alone, the way you spoke gave me hope. The way you touched me told me you wanted me as your wife. I hope you did not do the same abroad to any more innocent, naïve women." Paris wanted him to feel as if she were putting his morals under question, as her right. He did ruin her and left her to rot. Not that he had known their one night had left her pregnant, butshedid, and he would pay for the hurt he caused her.
"I never did any such thing. Not with any of the young ladies, I promise you," he declared.
His words made warmth settle where she had become so used to cold and aloofness. She was glad he had not rutted his way around France, but then, nor should she care.
"If we're to engage in anything between us, there are rules that will need to be obeyed. Not only is there no kissing, but we shall not spend the night together. You must leave, and so must I when we’ve engaged with each other at our respective homes. We're not to engage in anything at balls and parties other than dances such as this. And you are to court and find a woman who will suit you as a wife. I do not want to stand in the way of you finding someone to marry." With him courting another, it would stop her from falling too hard at his feet once again. Not kissing Dominic, not becoming emotionally entangled with him, would protect her and be best for them both.
Their time had passed. She had married another and had a wonderful child who would carry on her husband's name and a daughter to fill her heart. Lord Astoridge needed to do the same with anyone who was not her.
"You want me to court another while we're sleeping together?" he asked, pulling her close, his large hand slipping across her back and making her skin prickle in awareness.
"Yes, that is what I wish. I do not feel anything for you, Lord Astoridge. Nothing at all. You must not think that I do merely because I'm willing to be your lover."
He stared at her, his mouth agape before he snapped it closed. "You do not feel anything for me at all? I do not believe it, not if we're to partake in what we're discussing, my lady," he argued, a small frown marring his brow.
"It is what it is, my lord. It has been five years, and so much has happened since you went away. Of course I do not feel anything for you and wish you to have what I did with Lord Hervey. I'm not completely unfeeling, but I do not want you to look for something between us when there will never be any emotional attachment from me to you again."
He cleared his throat, and for several turns, they waltzed about the ballroom floor without talking. She could see he was mulling over her words, debating arguing further if his thinned lips were any indication, but in the end, he sighed, and she knew she had won this war at least.
"Very well. I shall agree to all that you state, but you cannot stop me from hoping that in time I may be able to win back your trust and mayhap your heart."
Paris smiled but shook her head. "I do not think that shall ever happen, my lord. If there is one thing that has changed about me in the last five years it is that I'm more independent and stubborn than I ever was before. I know what I do and do not want, and another husband, for all their value, is not something I wish for. I'm content in my life, hence why I shall take a lover, but nothing more. You will fail in your quest if you do try," she said, seeing only determination light in his brown gaze.
"Let the games begin, my lady."
She chuckled. "If you say so, my lord."
ChapterSeven
The following evening Dominic sat in the supper room alone at Lord and Lady Smithfield's ball and watched as the Countess of Hervey flirted outrageously with Lord Bankes, an earl from Somerset.
He spooned the syllabub into his mouth, his attention steadfast on the countess as she laughed and every so often reached out and touched the earl's arm as they spoke.
That the earl, a man five years older than himself, was rich and had an abundant, extravagant estate in Somerset only worsened the unwavering nerves that twisted in his stomach.
He ought to join them, throw himself between them in a way, but he did not. She did not want him interfering in her life, and he only had himself to blame for her coolness toward him in social situations.
But when would he get her alone? His body burned to have her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her, even though she had forbidden such intimate actions, but he was certain he could persuade her otherwise. Change her mind about not becoming emotionally involved with him.
How could she not? How could either of them remain aloof when being so intimate with each other?
She was deluding herself, not that he would tell her so, but he would enjoy proving her wrong until she admitted the truth.
