Lady Rosabella's Ruse - By Ann Lethbridge Page 0,44
nothing will happen that you do not want.’
Want. She was full of wants and all of them confusing. Another hot shiver. She had no way of dealing with him. No quick repartee or double-edged sally. Why had he come here? All he wanted to do was flirt. Or worse. Meanwhile her life teetered on the brink of disaster.
Panic rose in her throat. She’d have to go north. Present herself to the bailiffs. Prison. Meg and Sam would have to find work as governesses, lady companions, teachers. Meg would be fine. She was strong and would manage. Sam was just so sickly.
Perhaps if she wrote to Grandfather again and—
‘I did want to thank you for talking to Lady Smythe this afternoon.’ The sound of his voice made her jump. ‘Did she say why she left London?’
Lady Smythe. She closed her eyes, pictured the tearful woman on the beach. ‘I think she plans to go home.’
He let go a long sigh. ‘Thank God.’ He shifted, angling towards her. ‘Now I can focus all my attention on you.’
His smile caused an ache deep in her chest. ‘I’d really prefer you didn’t.’
‘You are a very beautiful woman, Rose.’
She couldn’t resist that voice or that smile. Yet she should. ‘And your intentions are less than honourable.’ She could hear the smile in her voice.
‘I make no pretence about my intentions.’ His voice had dropped to a low seductive murmur. ‘We would deal well together, you and I.’
Her body hummed in response. With all the worries pressing in on her, somehow, in this moment, he made her feel good. Far better about herself than anyone had ever made her feel for years. What would it be like to have such a man in her life? To share her burdens?
Stanford—no, Garth—wasn’t offering marriage, or permanence or love. Although he hadn’t said the words, she had no illusions. He was offering a carte blanche. The kind of relationship Grandfather would have happily accepted between her mother and father. It was the marriage he’d found objectionable.
How would he feel if he discovered his eldest granddaughter had gone down that road? He probably wouldn’t care. Or he’d see it as proof he was right all along about her mother.
It was not the relationship she’d dreamed of for herself. She’d wanted a home, and children, and, most of all, love. The true love she’d seen in her parents’ eyes.
True love was a luxury when you and your sisters were facing debtors’ prison.
She really couldn’t see any other option. And he really seemed to like her. Almost as much as she liked him, though she hadn’t dare admit it.
Something had changed. Garth sensed it across his skin. The heat in the room had gone up as if the fire had doubled in size. Instead of Rose backing away as he’d half expected, she was looking at him the way a cat looked at a plump mouse who had wandered across its path.
Why would he be surprised? She was female, wasn’t she? Worse yet, why the hell was he disappointed? He didn’t harbour naïve notions about any of them. Especially not this one after all he’d learned about her.
He glanced down to discover her feet still primly tucked beneath the hem of her gown.
Prim. Even now, when desire perfumed the air, she was as prim as a nun. Was his hopeful imagination playing tricks?
As if sensing his question, her toes emerged, followed by the rest of her feet. Narrow feet, with high arches and long slender toes, except for the small one on her right foot. That one curled over. A tiny blemish on what were the prettiest feet he’d ever seen. And her ankles were nice, too, well turned and slender.
She brushed one against the other shyly.
His body hardened.
He dragged his gaze back to her face. Her gaze was fixed on his face. She licked her lips, making them moist.
Gently, so as not to scare her, he raised his fingertips to her chin and angled her face for easier access to those sweetly curved lips.
She swallowed and closed her eyes.
‘Not scared, are you, sweeting?’ he whispered against her mouth.
‘No,’ she whispered back, but her voice shook on the word.
A kiss or two wouldn’t hurt. Although if the last kiss was anything to go by, he would have trouble stopping once he started. There was something about this woman that called to his most primal self. And it wasn’t just the sight of her bare feet.