One Week As Lovers (Somerhart 3)
“No! Good Lord, Nick, you’re missing the entire point.”
“I don’t think I am. You gave away your virginity and I’d like to know why. And also who.”
Cynthia stared at him, her eyes unflinching. If he’d expected shame on her part, it seemed he’d be waiting a long time. She looked more irritated than regretful.
“Why?” she repeated. “There were two reasons, I suppose. First, I thought my lack of a maidenhead might deter any unwanted suitors my stepfather foisted on me. Second, if he managed to find a man who would take me, unwilling as I was, at least I would’ve had my way in one thing. I chose who my first lover was. No one else. Small as that is, it might have been my last free choice.”
Her explanation was logical, he supposed, but rather emotionless. “So you were in love with this man?”
“With James? No, definitely not.”
James, she’d said. James. Lancaster felt his nails dig into his palms. His knees screamed in protest, so he finally backed up to his chair and collapsed.
“It was years ago and—”
“It was?” He heard his own voice rise on a note of hope. Not that it should matter when it had happened. But he was very glad it hadn’t been last year. Or last month.
“Oh, bollocks. I shouldn’t have told you at all. You’re as insufferable as the rest of them.” Cynthia pushed up from her chair, clearly meaning to flounce from the room, but Lancaster leaned quickly forward and snagged her hand.
“Don’t go. I’m sorry. It’s just so…shocking.”
“Well, it’s not exactly easy for me to speak of.”
“Of course. I mean…I’m honored, I suppose, that you chose me to tell. I’m sure it’s been a burden all these years.”
“A burden?” she snorted, looking down on him as if he were a simpleton. “You’re hardly a priest, Nick. I didn’t come to confess. I just wanted to make clear that I’m not a virgin, so there’s no good reason we shouldn’t be lovers. It’s as simple as that.”
“What?” He dropped her hand. As simple as that? Was she mad?
“Yes. I have neither a delicate flower nor a priceless jewel to offer the imaginary husband of my future. Your conscience is absolved.”
“But…so this James just caught your fancy and you offered yourself to him? A few years ago you were nothing but a child, Cynthia.”
Growling, she threw her hands up in the air. “Why are you so focused on that? Do you even understand what I’m saying?”
“How old is this James?” he demanded, wondering why his voice sounded so loud in his ears.
The skirt of her dress twirled out in a pretty circle when Cynthia spun around. He reached out for her hand again, but it was gone along with the rest of her. Her door slammed before he could even rise to his feet.
What was wrong with her? Wasn’t he the one who should be upset?
Outraged now, Nick lunged to his feet and stalked across the room. He jerked open her door and stepped into her chambers. And spied the heel end of Cynthia’s boot flying straight for his chest.
Nick squawked and swept an arm out to knock the boot aside. Luckily she had two. She belted the other in his direction, but it flew wide and struck the wall beside him. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” he shouted.
“Go away!” she yelled, but he just came closer.
“Not until you tell me why you’re throwing boots at me.”
She turned her back on him to look for other items to throw. A warming brick sat tucked beneath the foot of the bed, but that seemed excessive.
“Did you expect that I wouldn’t be upset by your…youthful escapades?”
“Are you a complete imbecile? I just told you we could be lovers, and all you can talk about is that other man!”
Nick stopped in the middle of the room. His arms, upraised to defend himself, fell to his sides. “Oh,” he said, eyebrows flying high. “I think I see.”
“I didn’t tell you just so you could yell at me.” She wasn’t going to cry. She might be mortified and hurt, but she wouldn’t cry.