She swallowed. “Yes?”

He turned and strode out of the darkness toward her, pausing at a distance she knew was best kept between them. Without meeting her gaze, he said in a troubled voice, “Fool that I am, after receiving all of your rambling letters of apologies that gave me hope, I came tonight, not to rekindle our friendship, but to ask you to marry me. That is all I want out of this, and that is all I am willing to settle for.”

Her eyes widened. She gripped shaky hands together, the brass key to the garret biting into her palms. Her hands quaked beyond anything she’d ever experienced, knowing that she had already lost him. She had lost her closest friend to all the things they had both sworn to stay away from. “Please don’t do this to me. You and I both swore we would never go down this path. With anyone. We took the…the oath of ‘I’ve already been married and I’m not doing that again.’ Remember? You also still have three children to raise. Those girls need you. I don’t.”

His face went grim. “My understanding in this is that by giving myself more, I give my daughters more. They need a good mother and I need a good wife. Pardon me for assuming you were ever capable of being both.”

Her heart squeezed. He said it as if he meant it…as if he truly loved her and was looking for more than a mother to his children and more than a companion for his bed.

He stepped toward her and leaned in, inching his face close enough that the seductive heat of his breath frilled hers. “What are you afraid of? Is it the intimacy? Or is it me?”

Her legs quaked. Everything did. “I don’t want to lose what we have to something as stupid as lust and passion that will only l

ast in between breaths.”

“Nothing is going to change between us.”

“But it already has! You aren’t even looking at me the same.”

His gaze softened as he searched her face. “Magdalene.” Lifting his hand, he grazed the back of his finger against her cheek, his warmth penetrating her skin. “I have looked at you the same way for years. You have just never noticed it.”

She held that soft gaze and swallowed in effort to ease the anxious fluttering overtaking her body and soul. It reminded her of the way he had looked at her before he leaned in across that chess table and kissed her. It was a tenderness she had never seen in Adam’s face when he’d grabbed for her, stripped her and rode her until she climaxed in an effort to make her forget that he had just beat her. Lust, pleasure and pain in combination were Adam’s forte, and needless to say, she’d been avoiding all three ever since.

Thornton’s eyes trailed down to her lips and lingered. “Say something.” His finger softly slid its way down from her cheek to her exposed throat.

She fought against swaying from that touch. “Passion is a very dangerous game, Thornton. If we lose playing it, we lose everything, including each other, and I’m not willing to risk it. Lines blur fast. Adam taught me that much. His passion became my prison. He didn’t know whether to bed me or fist me.”

His features grew taut and derisive. “Don’t abase me, Magdalene, by comparing me to that prick. Allow me to resolve this. After tonight, we never see each other again. ’Tis best. Not only for you but me.”

Magdalene edged toward him, eyes widening. “You don’t actually mean that.”

“I do.”

She pressed a hand against her cheek in angst. “Why are you doing this to me? To us? Are we not worth more than a fleeting need to pursue intimacy that will never be as rewarding as the friendship we share?”

“Fleeting?” His expression stilled. “Given that you wish to categorize me with a dead man, I am asking that you not complicate my life by calling on me or my girls anymore, making us feel as if we are a family, when in fact, we are anything but. I also ask that you don’t send them any more of those damnable weekly trinkets that they’ve come to depend upon, waiting by the door like dogs. It isn’t fair to them and it isn’t fair to me.”

A part of her soul shattered knowing that he meant it. This was him never looking back. She could see it in that face and in those eyes.

She stepped toward him. “Thornton—”

“No.” He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “You and I have been doing this for five years, and I’m not doing it for another day knowing that I have been madly in love with you for at least four of those goddamn years. I had actually thought that the worst of this was you not noticing. But now I’m realizing that the worst part is that even now that you do know, you just don’t bloody care.” He rounded her, popping up both of his hands in disgust. “I am done. We are done, and I have nothing more to say. I am going to talk to Charles. He needs me. Whilst you, apparently, don’t.” He stalked down the corridor and into the ballroom.

Magdalene staggered, unable to breathe. Thornton loved her? Dear God, he…loved her? So all of this was, in fact, more than base attraction?

Upon her soul. Love was something she had never thought possible between them. Thornton had always merrily scoffed at everything pertaining to love and romance, which he believed only blinded one from seeing the death arrows pointed at one’s head and heart. He scoffed at flower arrangements. He scoffed at poetry. He scoffed at flirtations. He scoffed at picnics in the park and boat rides on the lake. He even scoffed at the waltz because it involved too much touching.

Clearly, his days of scoffing were over.

What a mess. She glanced down at the key in her trembling hand. It was going to be a very long night, and she only hoped poor Charles was in a better place than she was.

CHAPTER THREE

GATHERING HER EMBROIDERED satin gown from around her slippered feet, Magdalene hurried up the large staircase. Drifting past her own private suites, she made her way farther up toward the servants’ quarters at the very top level of the house, toward the garret. She eventually paused before a closed, paneled door.

Lanterns on wrought-iron hooks lit the quiet space.

She fingered the brass key, wondering if it was wise to open the door. Perhaps she should speak to the woman first and open the door last. She knocked. “Miss?”

Tags: Stephanie Laurens Regencies Historical
Source: readsnovelonline.net