She didn’t sound upset at his unloverlike greeting. He was beyond hedging his questions. “So why did you come?”
“I needed to talk to you.”
“Just talk?”
The look she sent him was guarded. “I wasn’t sure you’d see me. I’ve been horrid to you.”
So perhaps not just to talk. It was a good sign that she avoided his question.
He curled his hands into fists and fought the urge to seize her and demand she tell him that she was coming back to him. “I’ll always welcome you, Sally. Don’t you know that yet?”
“So you forgive me for being so cruel?” She linked trembling hands at her waist, and he realized she was nervous.
He shrugged. “It’s forgotten.”
Charles meant it. With her here, old resentment found no place in his heart.
He read the signs of recent strain in her face. A tightness around her mouth, and blue shadows under her eyes. Was it too much to hope that over these last days, she’d suffered just as he had?
“You’re so generous, Charles. When I don’t deserve your kindness.”
He stepped further into the room and shut the door behind him. Had this lovely, spirited, fragile creature come to entrust herself to him? He prayed it was so. But he remained careful. He’d come so perilously close to losing her once. He didn’t want her running away again.
Because if she did, this time it would be forever.
“Did you only come here to ask my forgiveness? You could have done that in a letter.”
“I…” She swallowed, and the hands she raised to undo the long line of buttons on her pelisse were shaking so badly, they fumbled. “I heard you were going to Italy.”
“I couldn’t see any point in staying in England,” he said somberly, then with sudden impatience, stepped closer and brushed her hands aside. “Let me do that. You’ll be there until Doomsday.”
“Yes, Charles,” she said, with a docility that he’d never heard from her before.
Quickly and efficiently, he released the buttons and helped her out of her coat. Then he stood back, awe-struck. “Good God, I’m glad Willis didn’t see that dress, or he’d have had a heart attack.”
Sally glanced down at the bright red silk gown and made an apologetic gesture. “It seemed a gown a scarlet woman would wear.”
He paused to admire the sight of her lean, graceful form in the scandalously low-cut dress. The vivid color made her skin look like new cream. It had been difficult enough keeping his hands off her before. Now she stood before him dressed for seduction, it was nigh impossible.
He swallowed and strove to keep his tone light, when all he wanted was to sweep her into his arms and kiss all the nonsense out of her. “It’s certai
nly scarlet.”
“I…I didn’t want you mistaking my motives,” she muttered, a delightful blush staining her slanted cheekbones.
Shock slammed into him, along with a huge wave of desire. And a renewed surge of hope.
But he’d learned the hard way that they needed to establish some rules before he rushed her into bed. They wanted each other, but passion wasn’t their problem, trust was.
He drew himself up to his full height and fought to steady his voice. “Just what are your motives, Sally? A quick tupping, then goodbye, and me off for Italy in the morning? Or something…else?”
“Is something else still an option?” Her expression was searching and she bit her lip. “Or has my behavior proven that you’re better off making for the hills and never seeing me again?”
He inhaled to feed his aching lungs. The damnable thing was he kept forgetting to breathe. “I told you—there’s no blame.”
“There should be.” She went back to twisting her hands together. “I hurt you.”
What was the point of lying? Without looking, he dropped her pelisse over a chair. “Yes.”