, since she’d been hurt by the gossips , life would not be any easier for her as James’s wife.
And yet he held back. Blast it all, why?
Kira sobbed once more, hugging herself as if no one else in the world would, and red-nosed,
she raised her head to dry her tears with her fingers. Then she saw him.
Instantly, her face changed from soft and aching to accusing. Gavin did not like the
manner in which she closed herself off from him so quickly, so easily. It was illogical,
certainly. After doing his utmost to oust her from the family, he should not expect
otherwise. But logic did not change the fact he resented her exclusion.
“Did you come to gloat?” she challenged.
“No.”
Now. Say it now! Tell her she does not belong here.
And yet he remained silent.
She dried a stray tear from her cheek and glared at him. “What do you want?”
Kira had given him another opportunity, even more perfect than the last , in which to persuade her to cry off her engagement and leave. Say something!
Yet when he looked at her blue eyes rimmed in red, he simply couldn’t hurt her anymore
tonight. Lady Becker and her sister had already hurt her enough tonight. Despite the
perfect opportunity to press his case, it seemed unfair, even appalling, to inflict
more pain on her now.
He was a bloody fool.
“James was concerned about you,” Gavin said finally, easing his clenched teeth long
enough to speak. “He’s having the coach brought round the front so we might leave.”
Suspicion and surprise both crossed her beautiful face. “Thank you.”
She looked like a dark goddess sent to earth to tempt him, and in that moment Gavin
yearned to touch her, the soft skin of her neck, the opulence of her mouth, the tempting
swell of her bosom. He clenched his fists to keep his hands to himself.
Forget being a bloody fool; he was every kind of fool.
One thing was certain: he had to get away. Being alone in a garden with Kira would
only give him improper thoughts the longer he stayed.
Gavin said nothing to her. He merely sent her a short nod, then turned away, cursing
himself with every step.
* * * *
During the tense ride back to Norfield Park, Darius watched his sister try her best
to look unaffected by the evening’s events. But the way she pressed her lips together
and folded her hands too tightly in her lap told him that she fought tears.
No one in the carriage spoke to her. Mrs. Howland’s rounded chin looked pointed in
anger. Her son seemed surprised by Kira’s unexpected outburst. Darius knew such events
to be rare, but his sister had spirit, especially when pushed.
The duke continued to watch Kira in contemplative silence. In fact, Cropthorne’s eyes
were always on her, and Darius did not like it. His high-and-mightyship might not
approve of Kira as his cousin’s bride, but the man wanted her for himself. Darius
read the lust in Cropthorne’s dark eyes. He also knew the duke believed the worst
about Kira. And though Darius hoped his sister’s debacle with Lord Vance had taught
her to be less trusting, he feared Kira was not immune to Cropthorne. Something about
the way she looked at the duke told him so.
That could easily spell trouble.
The coach rolled to a stop in front of Norfield Park, mercifully ending a tense journey.
Darius stepped out after Mrs. Howland and turned to help Kira alight. Before James—or
worse, the duke—could escort her inside, Darius did so. It was time they talked.
The evening formalities were dispensed with quickly, requiring very little conversation.
James looked as though he wished to speak with Kira, but Darius hoarded her, not feeling
guilty in the least about protecting his soft-hearted sister.
Finally, they were alone in her room, decorated in elegant yet feminine tones of rose,
cream, and gold. Kira belonged in such comfort. He hoped that marriage to James would
give her that without the hardship of scandal someday.
Kira sat
And yet he held back. Blast it all, why?
Kira sobbed once more, hugging herself as if no one else in the world would, and red-nosed,
she raised her head to dry her tears with her fingers. Then she saw him.
Instantly, her face changed from soft and aching to accusing. Gavin did not like the
manner in which she closed herself off from him so quickly, so easily. It was illogical,
certainly. After doing his utmost to oust her from the family, he should not expect
otherwise. But logic did not change the fact he resented her exclusion.
“Did you come to gloat?” she challenged.
“No.”
Now. Say it now! Tell her she does not belong here.
And yet he remained silent.
She dried a stray tear from her cheek and glared at him. “What do you want?”
Kira had given him another opportunity, even more perfect than the last , in which to persuade her to cry off her engagement and leave. Say something!
Yet when he looked at her blue eyes rimmed in red, he simply couldn’t hurt her anymore
tonight. Lady Becker and her sister had already hurt her enough tonight. Despite the
perfect opportunity to press his case, it seemed unfair, even appalling, to inflict
more pain on her now.
He was a bloody fool.
“James was concerned about you,” Gavin said finally, easing his clenched teeth long
enough to speak. “He’s having the coach brought round the front so we might leave.”
Suspicion and surprise both crossed her beautiful face. “Thank you.”
She looked like a dark goddess sent to earth to tempt him, and in that moment Gavin
yearned to touch her, the soft skin of her neck, the opulence of her mouth, the tempting
swell of her bosom. He clenched his fists to keep his hands to himself.
Forget being a bloody fool; he was every kind of fool.
One thing was certain: he had to get away. Being alone in a garden with Kira would
only give him improper thoughts the longer he stayed.
Gavin said nothing to her. He merely sent her a short nod, then turned away, cursing
himself with every step.
* * * *
During the tense ride back to Norfield Park, Darius watched his sister try her best
to look unaffected by the evening’s events. But the way she pressed her lips together
and folded her hands too tightly in her lap told him that she fought tears.
No one in the carriage spoke to her. Mrs. Howland’s rounded chin looked pointed in
anger. Her son seemed surprised by Kira’s unexpected outburst. Darius knew such events
to be rare, but his sister had spirit, especially when pushed.
The duke continued to watch Kira in contemplative silence. In fact, Cropthorne’s eyes
were always on her, and Darius did not like it. His high-and-mightyship might not
approve of Kira as his cousin’s bride, but the man wanted her for himself. Darius
read the lust in Cropthorne’s dark eyes. He also knew the duke believed the worst
about Kira. And though Darius hoped his sister’s debacle with Lord Vance had taught
her to be less trusting, he feared Kira was not immune to Cropthorne. Something about
the way she looked at the duke told him so.
That could easily spell trouble.
The coach rolled to a stop in front of Norfield Park, mercifully ending a tense journey.
Darius stepped out after Mrs. Howland and turned to help Kira alight. Before James—or
worse, the duke—could escort her inside, Darius did so. It was time they talked.
The evening formalities were dispensed with quickly, requiring very little conversation.
James looked as though he wished to speak with Kira, but Darius hoarded her, not feeling
guilty in the least about protecting his soft-hearted sister.
Finally, they were alone in her room, decorated in elegant yet feminine tones of rose,
cream, and gold. Kira belonged in such comfort. He hoped that marriage to James would
give her that without the hardship of scandal someday.
Kira sat
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