You’ll regret crossing me!’
‘Richard, I regret meeting you. I think you can safely assume that I also regret everything after that as well.” (Smith 252)
I wasn't very good at the bike thing. Really, it was just dangerous to trust two skinny little wheels and spindly brakes with the considerably uncoordinated woman that is me.
Kathryn SmithTag: funny self-depricating
She found him on the back terrace,slouched on the balustrade,smoking a thin cigar.
"Why did you do that?"she asked as soon as the French doors closed behind her.
He shot her a tired,lazy look."Do what,darling?"
"Treat me as though I am a child-and I am not your darling."Oh,but she would like to be.
What is there about me that makes me the least bit desirable?” She wasn’t fishing, she truly wanted to know. Right now she didn’t feel very attractive
There was no joy in the laugh that seemed to catch in his throat. He closed the scant distance between them, taking her face between the warm hollows of his palms.
“Foolish girl. You are everything that is good in life. Don’t you know that?”
She would have shaken her head were she not afraid that he would release her. “No. I’m manipulative and spoiled. And I think only of my own happiness.”
“You are good and sweet and true.” His thumbs brushed the apples of her cheeks. “Everything I am not. Everything. I want you so badly I may go mad before the Season ends.
What would the ton do without us to feed them scandal broth?”
Grey returned her grin. “The lot of them would starve.”
They chuckled and as the humor faded, Grey tilted his head to look at her. “You look beautiful tonight.”
She flushed, pleasure lighting the dark depths of her eyes. “You don’t have to say such things.”
“I know I don’t, but you are my fiancée and it’s perfectly acceptable for me to voice my thoughts aloud. It’s rather refreshing after keeping them to myself for so long.”
That got her attention. One of her fine, high brows twitched. “How long?”
He grinned. “Since you were old enough for me to think such thoughts without being lecherous.”
They stood no more than six inches apart. Close enough that he could see how amazingly flawless her skin was-not a freckle in sight. Close enough that she could see every twist and knot in his scar-and yet she barely glanced at it. Her gaze was riveted on his. She didn’t care that he was disfigured-at least not on the outside. Not on the inside either, so it seemed.
“I’ve never been a good man,” he confessed-a little more hoarse than he liked-“but I promise to be a faithful husband.” It was the best he could offer, because as much as he would like to be the man she wanted, it wasn’t going to happen.
Her smooth brow puckered. “I haven’t actually consented, you know.”
“Rose, we have to marry.”
“No.” She raised sparkling eyes to his. “I want you to ask me to marry you-not demand it. I don’t care if it has to be done. I want to feel like I have a choice.”
“If you did have a choice, what would it be?” He was on dangerous ground with her, inching into territory better left unexplored for both their sakes.
Rose smiled, and everything was right with the world. “Ask me and find out.”
His hands came up, seemingly of their own volition, to cup her face. She was so delicate, yet so strong. Her entire world had been turned upside down, and yet she faced him with a teasing glint in her eyes and a soft flush of color in her cheeks.
“Rose Danvers, will you do me the extreme honor of becoming my wife?”
Were those tears dampening her eyes? And was it joy or sorrow that put them there?
“I will.”
He knew that they had to marry regardless, but hearing her say those two little words was like someone kicking his heart through his ribs. It hurt, but there was such unfathomable joy that came with it-such terrible happiness that Grey had no idea what to do with it. He’d never felt anything like it before.
Holding her face, he lowered his head and hungrily claimed her mouth with his own. Her lips parted for his tongue as her fingers bit into his arms. A trickle of warm wetness brushed against his thumb. She was crying.
A sharp gasp came from the open door. “What the devil is going on here?”
The kiss and its magic were broken. Rose stepped back, and Grey dropped his hands, but he wasn’t willing to let her go just yet. He placed one arm behind her back, holding her close so that they faced her mother together.
Camilla did not look happy. In fact, she looked like any mother would to walk into a room and find her daughter being molested.
“Mama,” Rose begun. “It’s not what you think.”
“It is exactly what you think,” Grey countered, drawing his friend’s stormy and narrow gaze. “I have asked Rose for her hand in marriage and she has accepted. I regret that you had to find out this way, but I was too overcome with joy to contain my feelings.”
He could feel Rose gaping at him. He didn’t look at her, not because the words were a lie, but because they were all too damnably true.
I’m a decade her senior. I was a friend of her father, and I’m sure she looks upon me like a benevolent uncle. Even if she didn’t, I promised Charles I wouldn’t lay a hand on her.” The Earl of Marsden had been one of his dearest friends-practically his only friend. A promise to such a friend should not be easily broken.
Archer jerked back, disbelief coloring his angular features. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Grey shrugged. “He asked it of me.”
Shaking his head, Archer exhaled a breath. “You never told me that before.”
“I suppose I was ashamed.” And hurt, even though he understood his friend only made the request to protect his only child from a man whose sexual conquests had resulted in his being marked for like. Were the situation reversed, Grey might have very well demanded the same promise. And despite being a libertine, he was a man of his word.
Archer stared at him for a long moment, elbow braced on the table, chin resting on his thumb as his index finger stroked his stubbled upper lip. “Devil take it, Grey. Charles Danvers was one cruel bugger.”
A bitter smile curved Grey’s lips at the insult to his late friend. “Quite.
Thank you,” he blurted. Startled glances shot his way. “Both of you.”
Camilla, paused in the middle of pouring herself another cup of tea. “Whatever for?”
“For your kindness.” A huge lump seemed to have formed in his throat as his gaze locked with Rose’s. “I am honored to have your friendship.”
Rose’s expression softened into something he couldn’t read, but it seized his heart all the same. What the hell was wrong with him? A few hours in her company and he already unmanned himself.
“You shall always have it,” she told him quietly. Then, a quick glance to the woman near him. “Isn’t that right, Mama?”
Damn it all, in those few seconds he’d forgotten about Camilla. “Of course,” she replied with a gentle smile as she laid her hand over one of Grey’s. “Always.”
Somehow, he managed to smile. Then he made some foolish excuse so that he might leave their company. He felt Rose’s questioning gaze upon his back as he left the room, and he had to force himself not to look back. Because if he did, there was no telling what insanity he might get up to.
He had his pride, after all.
My requirements in a husband are simple,” she informed him smoothly. “All I want is a man who will hold me above everything else, including his horse, his fortune, and his pride.”
Hearing that simple yet seemingly impossible declaration was like a blow to Grey’s solar plexus. She was going to be so disappointed, the poor thing. How perverted was it of him to secretly rejoice over her wants? She might find a man who could love her more than his horse, perhaps even more than his fortune, but never would she find a man willing to sacrifice his pride-not without that same man coming to hate her for it eventually.
“More than his horse?” he joked. “My dear girl, you ask too much.
It also occurred to him, like a well-aimed kick to the head, that the idea of watching Rose marry anyone was something he looked forward to about as much as he would castration.
Possibly less.
I want you to be happy. Eat it.”
A wry smile curved Rose’s lips. “Am I to find happiness in a piece of chocolate cake?”
Eve already had a forkful en route to her mouth. “I stake my reputation on it.”
“Oh,” she replied dryly. “Surely heaven is just a bite away.”
“Speaking of heaven,” Eve said a few minutes later when Rose thought she might expire from the bliss the dessert inspired, “tell me about your evening at Saint’s Row.”
“Shh!” Her paranoid gaze darted around to see if anyone had overheard, but there was no one standing close enough to their whitewashed bench.
“Don’t shush me, Rose Danvers. I’m your best friend and you’ve kept me waiting four whole days! I demand details.”
Cheeks flushed, Rose stared at the half-eaten cake on her plate. Eve’s timing might leave something to be desired, but at least she’d stopped Rose from eating the entire slice.
“What do you want to know?”
Eve’s expression was incredulous. “Everything, of course.” Then, as though realizing who she was talking to, she sighed. “Did you find him?”
Rose nodded. “I did.” The fire in her cheeks burned hotter, and she looked away. “Oh, Eve!”
Her friend grabbed her wrist, clattering fork against plate. “That arse didn’t hurt you did he?”
“No!” Then lowering her voice, “And he’s not an arse.” Using such rough language made her feel daring and bold.
The scowl on Eve’s face eased. “Then…he was good to you?”
Rose nodded, leaning closer. “It was the most amazing experience of my life.”
The blonde giggled, bringing her head nearer to Rose’s. “Tell me everything.”
So Rose did, within reason, looking up every once in awhile to make sure no one could hear.
Afterward, when she was finished, Eve looked at her with a peculiar expression. “It sounds wonderful.”
“It was.”
Eve’s ivory brow tightened. “So, why do you sound so…disappointed?”
Rose sighed. “It’s going to sound so pathetic, but when I saw Grey the next day he didn’t recognize me.”
“But I thought you didn’t want him to know it was you.”
Rose laughed darkly. “I don’t. That’s the rub of it.” She turned to more fully face her friend. “But part of me wanted him to realize it was me, Eve. I wanted him to see me as a woman, not as his responsibility or burden.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t view you as any such thing.”
Shaking her head Rose set the plate of cake aside, her appetite gone for good. "I thought this scheme would make everything better, and it's only made things worse." Worse because her feelings for Grey hadn't lessened as she'd hoped they might, they'd only deepened.
Eve worried her upper lip with her bottom teeth. "Are you going to meet him again?"
Another shake of her head, vehement this time. "No."
"But. Rose, he wants to see you."
"Not me, her." This was said with a bit more bitterness than Rose was willing to admit. He might have whispered her name, but it wasn't her he wanted to meet.
Eve chuckled. "But you are her." She squeezed her wrist again. "Rose, don't you see? You're who he wants to see again, whether he knows it was you or not."
Rose hadn't looked at it that way. She wasn't quite convinced her friend was right, but it was enough to make her doubt her own conclusions. She shook her head again. Blast, but she was making herself lightheaded. "I just don't know."
"You'll figure it out," Eve allowed. "You always do.
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