A Most Sinful Proposal (The Husband Hunters Club 2)
She blinked, as if tears were in her eyes, but he noted they were perfectly clear. Suddenly he was tired of her games and her “modern” garden. He wanted to leave. He wanted to ride home with Marissa by his side. He wanted to…to…
Valentine almost groaned aloud. He’d been longing to claim Marissa, like Richard de Fevre coming home from the Crusades claimed his wife, like Lancelot claimed Guinevere. Triumphantly push himself deep inside her and gaze into her eyes as he made her his for now and forever. But he hadn’t found the rose. He wasn’t famous or a catch, the sort of man a beautiful woman might regard with pride.
He was the same Valentine Kent he’d always been, and the knowledge was turning his temper ragged.
“The rose I’m seeking is not here, Lady Longhurst,” he said stiffly.
“Oh.” She shrugged and smiled. “Why not stay anyway?”
“I don’t think so. But I do thank you for your generosity in allowing us to see your garden.”
“But you will take some refreshments?”
She sounded a little desperate, as if she was afraid of being on her own, making it difficult to refuse. So they sat politely, making conversation, until eventually it was possible to escape.
“Oh, Lord Kent,” Marissa said breathlessly as she rode at his side, the village and Canthorpe receding behind them. “Look at this rose, surely it will do?” She sounded uncannily like Lady Longhurst.
He frowned down at her. “That is not kind.”
“Perhaps you can stay and help me prepare for bed? I find myself all thumbs today,” she added, with the nearest thing to a leer he’d ever seen on her face.
Despite his low spirits Valentine chuckled.
“What a dreadful woman.” Marissa was herself again as she gave a shudder.
“I would have liked her a great deal more if I could have found my rose in her garden.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t find the rose,” she said gently, “I really am, Valentine. But just imagine if you had found it at Canthorpe? You’d never be able to escape Her Ladyship’s advances.”
“I found it rather flattering,” he retorted with a smug smile.
Marissa gave an unladylike snort.
“I’m not that sort of man.”
Marissa stared at him as if she’d misheard. “The sort of man who what?”
Valentine shifted awkwardly in his saddle. “The sort of man women pursue.”
“Do you really believe that?” She sounded bemused, her dark eyes searching his.
Valentine knew there was no escaping this conversation. The time had come. Reluctantly he drew his horse to a halt and turned to face her.
Chapter 20
Marissa had never seen him look so serious. There was clearly something heavy weighing on his mind. Something other than the rose. She didn’t for a moment believe what he’d said about his attractiveness to women. Valentine was the most charismatic man she’d ever met. No, whatever he was going to say must be serious indeed for him to be regarding her in such a stern manner.
He’s going to ask you to leave.
No matter how she tried to ignore them, the words repeated over and over in her head, taunting her.
Valentine dismounted and came to help her down, his hands firm and warm about her waist. She had to stop herself from melting into him, drawing back as soon as her feet touched the ground. There was a fallen log within the glade, looking almost as if Lady Longhurst’s gardener had arranged it himself. Marissa sat down, fussing with her skirts, while she waited anxiously for him to say whatever it was he intended to say.
He took his time tethering the horses, then took off his hat and slapped it against his thigh, before finally approaching her. Resting a boot on the log beside her, he began to twist his hat in his hands, staring into the distance. And all the while she said nothing, waiting, her sense of dread growing.
“I suppose I have to go back in time,” he said. His gaze brushed hers briefly. “When my father died at Waterloo I decided I would take on his job of finding the Crusader’s Rose and restoring it to the family. It seemed important, a task I could make my life’s work. I know you find that ridiculous, Marissa. You’ve made it very clear what you think about botanical pursuits.”
“I did think that, yes,” she agreed.