The Matter of a Marquess - Jess Michaels Page 0,19

she couldn’t ignore that more of him was wary and unyielding when it came to her.

“I have offered to leave this house,” she said. “And your sister-in-law has said that I should stay. But in the end, it isn’t about what she wants. It’s you, Nicholas. This is your family and I’ve obviously intruded into a space where I’m not just unexpected, but unwelcome. I should go.”

She pivoted away, moving toward the door before she did something foolish like touched him. Kissed him. Fell to her knees and confessed all her heart to him.

But to her surprise, he reached out and caught her hand, dragging her back toward him a fraction. Lightning crackled up her arm at the touch of his hand on her body, even in this relatively benign way. It had been so long since he last touched her, but she’d been dreaming of it ever since. And now his lean fingers had strength, but didn’t punish or hurt.

His dark stare bore down into hers, unreadable but for one thing…heat. He was looking at her with heat, and her stomach fluttered in needy response.

“Stay.”

Nicholas could barely breathe. Aurora wasn’t wearing gloves and neither was he, so his skin was on her skin, and it was everything he’d fantasized about since the horrible moment he lost her. Now this was sweet torture to hold her, and he wanted nothing more than to drag it out until he burned alive in her heat.

Which was exactly why he could not, should not, do that. He released her with a shudder and forced himself to take a step away.

She was staring up at him in confusion, and he couldn’t blame her. He’d been so cold on the drive. He’d hoped to come into this room and continue to be cold toward her. There were so many questions that loomed between them, about the past, about this scandal she was apparently dragging behind her.

But when he looked down into those warm brown eyes that had always been so kind, so gentle, it wasn’t so easy. She looked…exhausted. Being here would help her, as much as it would help him.

Could he truly rip that away from her? This woman he had loved for all of his adult life?

“You can’t mean that,” she whispered.

He shrugged, hoping it seemed that he didn’t care. He needed that barrier, at least, between them. “Whatever happened between us, it’s in the distant past. Isn’t it?”

Her gaze darted away, pink filled her cheeks. She almost looked…disappointed, but that couldn’t be. After all, she had walked away from him, married someone else, lived a life that had nothing to do with him. Why should she be disappointed?

“Yes,” she said at last, her breath hitching.

“Neither of us is the same person we were all those years ago,” he continued. And that was true. He hadn’t been that green, hopeful boy for a very long time. War had changed him, injury had changed him…she had changed him. “And I think we both need to be here for various reasons.”

Her face jerked toward his, and the pink on her cheeks immediately transformed to bright red. “You—you are referring to the scandal, I suppose.”

He shifted. God, how he would like to ask her about that. Press her, demand to understand what had driven her to such a thing. But it wasn’t his place. They weren’t friends, not anymore. They weren’t lovers, they never had been. He was owed no answers. And perhaps if he ignored that urge to demand them, it would create a required distance that would make the next week and a half more bearable.

“It is none of my affair,” he said, and turned away from her. “I’m not asking you about it, nor judging you for whatever happened back in London.”

“I see.” Her voice was very small.

He forced himself to look at her, gripping his hands behind his back so he wouldn’t try to touch her again. “Can we put our past aside for the sake of our futures? Pretend to be strangers who just met? And proceed as we both intended when we each agreed to come here, not knowing the other would be in attendance?”

She was quiet for so long, he started to wonder if she’d heard him. But finally she gave a shaky nod. “I-I can do that. If you can.”

“I can,” he said immediately.

It was a lie. He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t pretend she’d never meant something…everything…to him. But he would. He’d make himself do it, use that