Appreciation and challenge lit his eyes. “Curious indeed. On my ride over, I devised numerous ways in how to get you to admit the truth. I am a bit disappointed I won’t get to torture you after all,” he drawled, eyes dipping to the pulse fluttering frantically at her throat.
She put her cane on the sofa, and folded her arms across her stomach, hoping he did not see it for the defensive move it was. “I cannot imagine what you are thinking now. I do not know why Anthony thought he had to betray my confidence. I never intended to put you in such a position, Elliot I want you to forget last night ever happened.”
“I wonder, why did your heart tremble the instance I entered the drawing room?”
She gaped at him, blushing furiously. “It did not.”
He remained silent, but his eyes glittered with cool knowledge, mocking her. Mortifyingly her nipples beaded under his gaze, and the flesh beneath her legs heated. Dear God. “It was only one night, and I had…have no intention of repeating the encounter.”
“I can take you now, without preliminaries, and you would scream for me, loving every pounding thrust or gentle glide, Emma.”
Fear snaked through her, and arousal stabbed into the heart of her at his words. He was the most sinfully alluring man she’d ever met, and somehow, he knew how she reacted to him. After their night together, he would not be in doubt. Her arousal dampened between her thighs with shocking speed, and she fought to keep her face blank. “You could try, but I would not allow it. I do not want more than the one night we had, Elliot.”
He stiffened. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you only wish for one night with me?”
The question made her chest ache.
He leaned his hips against the mantle by the fireplace, his stare unswerving. Was it that he wanted more than one night? Her mind dismissed the possibility. Yet after a few seconds, she arrived at the same conclusion. The idea was so preposterous, so frightfully appealing she glared at him for eliciting the powerful need, excitement, and doubt mashing painfully together inside. “What do you want from me?” she whispered instead of answering his question. I know your intent to marry…
“Did you not declare to Anthony your plans to court Lady Andrea. The perfect debutante of this season?”
A frown chased his features. “I have no intention to court her or anyone else. I know the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with if she will grant me the honor.”
Emma stared at him with a mixture of dread and fascination, and a peculiar weight filled her heart, and a lump grew in her throat. “I ask again, Your Grace, what do you want from me?”
Somehow, she got the impression he was nervous, and that was an even more preposterous idea. Elliot Winthrop was never nervous. He had grown into the poise and confidence of a nobleman who was well aware of his worth in society.
“More,” he said softly.
Emma swallowed. “More of what?”
He stepped closer, and she moved back. He faltered, but his eyes never left hers. “More of you, more than one night, forever.”
She put some safe distance between them, anger whipping through her blood. “Why are you saying this? You haven’t paid any addresses to me in eight years.”
He glared at her, seemingly waging an internal war. “Did you want me to?”
Yes…no. “If you had wanted me, why did you stay away for so long?”
“Staying away from you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. You rejected my offer of marriage three times…and my heart and pride were wounded. Each letter you sent to me was a twisting knife in an open wound that had no chance of healing. I had to distance myself from you to preserve my sanity. I never thought I had another chance with you until you came to the masquerade ball.”
The air heated and tension arched from him to her.
“I’ve stayed away over the years…but I will not continue to do so. Please give me a chance.”
After years of hopeless longing to hear such renewed sentiments, how strange his expressions did not fill her with relief, more like despair. “No.” Her refusal sounded so weak. Wanting to be firm she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“Why not?”
“If I had not come to you last night, would you have ever approached me?” she asked softly.
He shielded his eyes, but not before she saw the flash of guilt and torment.
“Eventually I would have come for you.”