A Rose for Major Flint (Brides of Waterloo)

‘And I was not. I believe now that I had become afraid that there was something wrong with me, that I could never trust enough to love. Gerald was very sweet, very open. It was all on the surface with him, no dark, hidden corners.’ Not like you.

‘Hmm.’ Adam’s mouth twisted as if he had bitten a lemon. ‘No dark corners, but he was prepared to elope with a young lady, marriage to whom would be advantageous. He took you even after your father had turned him down, even when his duty should have told him he would be needed to fight at any moment.’

‘Are you saying Gerald wanted me for my money? Because I was a good match?’

Flint shrugged. ‘Yes. Obviously.’

It took a moment for the full insult to sink in. When it did her face stung with the heat of the blood in her cheeks. ‘I do not know, Major Flint, which is more breathtaking, your complete lack of tact or your opinion that no man would want me for anything other than mercenary gain!’ The fact that she had confided those fears to her diary did not excuse him coming right out and saying it, damn him.

‘Did he know you well? Was he a friend, a lover?’

‘No, of course not. You know he was not my lover.’ There was a nasty acid knot in her stomach. Gerald hadn’t wanted her for herself either. Obviously. She had been deceived yet again and everyone else could see it but her.

‘And nor was he your friend. Rose, listen to me. I know you. I am your lover, I have seen you in circumstances that strip a person’s soul bare. I know I want you because of who you are, what you are, not who your father is or how large your dowry.’

She tried to make sense of his words, unwilling to focus on them too hard in case she misunderstood. But she had to ask him. ‘Adam, are you saying you’re in love with me?’

He shifted abruptly and now she could see his face. It was not that of a lover, it was the face of a tough, unsentimental fighter backed into a corner. ‘How the blazes do I know?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve just said I don’t understand love. Why is that women are so fixated on it anyway? I’m in lust with you, I like you, I want to look after you and it is my duty to marry you. Isn’t that enough?’

‘No. No, it isn’t.’ Rose backed

away. One step, two. ‘I cannot trust without love, I cannot see beyond the surface without love.’ Adam reached out and caught her by the wrist before she could retreat any further. ‘You say you have never broken hearts, but you would break mine even more easily than you could break my wrist.’

His fingers closed over the narrow bones, the stammering beat of her pulse, encircling them completely, a hold as careful and as unbreakable as Dog’s jaws closing on a newborn lamb that needed carrying. ‘Rose, take what we already have, stop thinking so much.’

‘I cannot stop thinking,’ she protested.

‘We’ve got this.’ He tugged gently until they were toe to toe, then traced the curve of her lips with his forefinger, the calloused, slightly rough tip fretting at the delicate skin. She shivered, wanting more. Wanting him. ‘You came to my bed, Rose. There must have been something you desired, even then.’

‘I still do,’ she admitted, unable to look away from his mouth. The corner kicked up into the secret smile he seemed to save for her alone. ‘I had never thought about men like that before, not…carnally.’

‘Carnally. Fancy word for something simple. All your barriers were down, Rose, that’s all. You weren’t thinking then, just feeling. You went with your instincts to trust me.’

‘That makes sense.’ Her voice seemed to come from a long way away and she still could not tear her gaze away from his mouth. His evening beard was just beginning to grow back, despite a close shave, and the dark shadow threw the sensual curve into sharper relief. There was a tiny scar at the right-hand corner. His own finger rested lightly under the swell of her own lower lip, quite still. She opened her mouth and touched it with the tip of her tongue and Adam’s tongue moved over his own lips in response.

‘I miss you in my bed.’

‘I miss being there.’

‘This close to your courses there is little risk and besides, I would be careful.’

‘Adam, this is not sensible, not when we are both in such a muddle over what to do.’ Her protests sounded thin to her own ears.

‘Whatever else I am in, it is not a muddle.’

‘Well, it is academic anyway. We most certainly cannot go back to your rooms and I can hardly lower a knotted sheet from my window.’ It was as though she had drunk too much champagne. One minute confused and on the edge of angry, now yearning to be tangled in Adam’s arms, their bare skin—

‘It is a warm night. The grass is dry.’ He was eyeing the railings around the Parc with a speculative eye.

‘Outside? In a public park? Adam, that is wicked!’ A laugh escaped her, an excited, scandalised laugh. ‘Besides, I could not climb that fence.’

‘No, I suppose not, in that gown.’ His mouth curved into a wicked smile. ‘On the other hand, there are no railings to keep us off the ramparts walk.’

‘Outside?’ Rose repeated. ‘What if anyone were to see us?’ She was already halfway to agreeing, she realised. Adam started walking again, taking the side turning that led to the ramparts, now a grassy promenade lined with trees.

‘It is deserted. See?’ They stepped out on to the walk, the view of the forest beyond bathed in moonlight, tranquil and mysterious as though a battle had never been fought beyond its borders. ‘Besides,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘that little frisson of fear adds to the excitement.’

‘Adam, you are outrageous!’