Lady Lilias and the Devil in Plaid - Julie Johnstone Page 0,45
his own mind provided. “She’s not the sort of lady to be intimate without entanglements.”
“Then why not get entangled?” Serafina asked. “Ye clearly wish to.”
He scrubbed a hand across his face and made a move for the door. “It’s not that simple. She belongs to someone else.”
“Ah. I’m sorry, Greybourne. But it’s good to be the sort of man who does not take what belongs to another.”
That’s what he kept telling himself.
“Goodbye, Greybourne. I’ll miss ye.”
He frowned. That sounded like an end to whatever had been between them. He wished he felt something, but he didn’t. “‘Goodbye’ as in this is the end of our time together?” he asked for clarification.
She nodded, came to stand before him, and pressed onto her tiptoes. “Aye. I do not like to take what belongs to another, either.”
“What the devil do you mean by that? I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Silly, foolish man,” she said while opening her bedchamber door. “Of course ye do. Yer heart belongs to her, whether ye wish to acknowledge it or not.”
Her words stilled him completely. It was like light flooded his mind. Damnation. He couldn’t deny the truth. It had never been about mere desire or worshipping her. It was much more. It was that dangerous emotion that drove a man to do unwise, dishonorable things just to be with the woman who held his heart in the palm of her hand. Love. It was more imperative than ever to keep a distance between himself and Lilias. Too much time near her and he wouldn’t trust himself not to weaken, to say something he ought not say, to do something he damn well should not do, and that would be unforgivable.
Lilias almost ran Nash over with her horse and gig. It happened so fast she did not even have time to scream, but as the realization hit her, she began to shake. In her defense, it was very late, the fog swirled heavily, and she was exceedingly tired. Besides that, he’d dashed out in front of them. Nash was lucky that the light from the street lamp hit him directly or she most definitely would have killed him. Now that would have been a true Gothic romance.
Heroine runs over hero who didn’t love her. In the unwritten tragic book that was her one-sided love story starring Nash, she’d be cast as a scorned murderess. Her heart thudded at the thought.
“What the devil are you doing out and about at this hour?” Nash roared, swallowing the distance between him and her very agitated horse. The horse reared, and Lilias’s heart skipped several beats in fear for Nash’s life—again—but he sidestepped the beast, grabbed the reins, and stilled the animal.
He looked magnificent, as usual, the rogue. He had on another kilt that showed his legs—heavens, they were lovely—and his cravat was undone, as well as the top of his shirt being yanked open. She could see a light dusting of hair on his chest, and her fingers tingled with the desire to touch him, and as the mist turned to a soft rain, a drop of water landed on his nose which made her want to wipe it off or even lick it. Heat flushed her at the thought.
She’d imagined when she might see him again at a ball, and she had planned to look much better than she likely did at this moment. She likely looked a mess. At least the foldable head of her gig was up or she would have looked utterly bedraggled, seeing as how she’d been to the rookery and back tonight in sporadic rain. Twice. She’d driven in the drizzle the first time to rescue a witless lady from the rogue who’d lured her there, intent on seduction, and then Lilias had been called out again unexpectedly by Frederica. It seemed a very damning scandalous confessions manuscript by a Society mistress was about to be published. One of the titillating chapters in the book happened to be about a marquess, Lord Quattlebom, who was having an affair not only with said mistress but with a young unwed lady, a Lady Katherine. Lady Katherine and Frederica were friends, and she had cried to Frederica about her problem. Frederica had taken it upon herself to accept the mission and go out alone to confront the mistress who had written the manuscript. There were strict rules against going on missions without anyone knowing and about accepting missions without a vote from the other SLAR members, but Frederica had