The Lady Chosen (Bastion Club 1)
She didn’t immediately speak, then she drew in a deep breath. He realized he was going to get at least part of an explanation.
“You have to understand—and accept—that I don’t wish to marry. Not you, not anyone. I have no interest in the state. What happened between us…” She lifted her head, looked down the long corridor. “That was purely because I wanted to know. To experience…” She looked down, walked on. “And I thought you were a sensible choice to be my teacher.”
He waited, then prompted, his tone even, nonaggressive, “Why did you think that?”
She waved between them, slipping her hand from his to do so. “The attraction. It was obvious. It was simply there—you know it was.”
“Yes.” He was starting to see…he halted.
She stopped, too, and faced him. Met his gaze, searched his face. “So you do understand, don’t you? It was just so I would know…that’s all. Just once.”
Very carefully, he asked, “Done. Finished. Over?”
She lifted her head. Nodded. “Yes.”
He held her gaze for a long moment, then murmured, “I did warn you, on the bed at Montrose Place, that you’d miscalculated.”
Her head rose another notch, but she evenly stated, “That was when you felt you had to marry me.”
“I know I have to marry you, but that isn’t my point.”
Exasperation flared in her eyes. “What is your point?”
He could feel a grim, definitely cynical, totally self-deprecatory smile fighting for expression; he kept it from his face, kept his features impassive. “That attraction you mentioned. Has it died?”
She frowned. “No. But it will—you know it will….” She stopped because he was shaking his head.
“I know no such thing.”
Wary irritation crept into her face. “I accept that it hasn’t faded yet, but you know perfectly well gentlemen do not remain attracted to women for long. In a few weeks, once we’ve identified Mountford and you’ll no longer be meeting me on a daily basis, you’ll forget me.”
He let the moment stretch while assessing his options. Eventually asked, “And if I don’t?”
Her ey
es narrowed. She opened her lips to reiterate that he would.
He cut her off by stepping nearer, closer, crowding her against the windows.
Immediately, heat bloomed between them, beckoning, enticing. Her eyes flared, her breathing caught, then continued more rapidly. Her hands rose, fluttered to rest lightly against his chest; her lashes lowered as he leaned closer.
“Our mutual attraction hasn’t faded in the least—it’s grown stronger.” He breathed the words along her cheek. He wasn’t touching her, holding her, other than with his nearness. “You say it’ll fade—I say it won’t. I’m sure I’m right—you’re sure you are. You want to address the matter—I’m willing to be party to an agreement.”
Leonora felt giddy. His words were dark, forceful, black magic in her mind. His lips touched, butterfly light, to her temple; his breath fanned her cheek. She dragged in a tight breath. “What agreement?”
“If the attraction fades, I’ll agree to release you. Until it does, you’re mine.”
A shiver slithered down her spine. “Yours. What do you mean by that?”
She felt his lips curve against her cheek.
“Exactly what you’re thinking. We’ve been lovers—are lovers.” His lips drifted lower to caress her jaw. “We remain so while the attraction lasts. If it continues, as I’m sure it will, beyond a month, we marry.”
“A month?” His nearness was sapping her wits, leaving her dizzy.
“I’m willing to indulge you for a month, no more.”
She struggled to concentrate. “And if the attraction fades—even if it doesn’t completely die but fades within a month, you’ll agree that a marriage between us is not justified?”