why you chose now to reveal yourself?”
That’s what he was angry about? Not that she had tricked him, but that she had chose to reveal it?
“Because,” she replied stubbornly, moving around the oak and cream brocade sofa. The more space between them the better. Space—and resentment—would keep her from sobbing. “I couldn’t lie to you any longer.”
A bitter smile twisted his lips, tugged the scarred flesh of his left cheek. “That is such a fucking lie in itself.”
Her eyes widened. She’d never heard him use such language before. It was almost as fearsome as it was erotic. “It’s not a lie! I could no longer continue with the foolish farce. It was an imprudent idea to begin with.”
“I shan’t argue with you on that point.”
Rose scoffed at him. “You don’t get to play morally superior with me, Grey. I may have been stupid enough to conspire against you, but you didn’t even recognize someone you’ve known for years! If one of us must be the bigger idiot, I think it must be you!” Oh dear God. She covered her mouth with her hand. What had she just said?
Dark arched brows pulled together tightly over stormy blue eyes. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I am an idiot, but only because I allowed this ridiculous ruse past the point when I realized your identity.”
Rose froze—like a damp leaf on an icy pond. “You knew?” And yet he continued to pretend…oh, he was worse than she by far.
“Of course I knew.” He glowered at her. “Blindfold me and I would know the scent of your skin, the exact color and texture of your skin. Do you not realize that I know the color of your eyes right down to the flecks of gold that light their depths?”
Heart pounding, stomach churning in shock, Rose could only stare at him. How could he say such things to her and sound so disgusted? “When?” Her voice was a ragged whisper. “When did you know?”
“I suspected before but tried to deny it. The morning after we last met I took one look at your sweet mouth and knew there couldn’t be two women in the world, let alone London with the same delectable bottom lip.”
It hurt. Oh, she hadn’t thought hearing him say such wonderful things could hurt so much! She pressed a hand to her chest. “You suspected and yet you made love to me any way.”
“Made love?” He snorted. “That’s a girl’s term, Rose. What you and I did…it was something far worse than making trite love.”
Worse? How could he malign what had transpired between them. “So you regret it, despite your own choice to continue with the charade.”
“What I regret,” he growled, suddenly moving toward her, “is your sudden attack of conscience.”
He was mad. She took a step back. “I don’t understand you.”
“If only you had managed to keep your guilt where it belonged.” A ravaged smile curved his lips as he shook his head. “We might have continued on, with neither being the wiser, but now we must endure the rest of the Season together, knowing what we can no longer have.”
“Then you admit you have feelings for me.”
He laughed hollowly. “So many I can scarce discern them all.”
It was a hollow victory at best. “If you care for me and I for you, then why can we not reveal our feelings? You have but to ask and I’m yours.” Even though it meant breaking her promise to her father.
This time Grey’s smile wasn’t bitter, it was sad. “Even if it means never attending another ball? At least not with your husband? Even if it means having people whisper behind your back, pitying you for being married to ‘Ruined Ryeton’?”
Rose opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
He saw her hesitation and grabbed it, but not before she saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes. “Being with me means more than being a recluse, Rose. You and your mother have already been touched by the scandal that surrounds me. I won’t have people speculate that I will drive you insane like I did the lover who had me
That’s what he was angry about? Not that she had tricked him, but that she had chose to reveal it?
“Because,” she replied stubbornly, moving around the oak and cream brocade sofa. The more space between them the better. Space—and resentment—would keep her from sobbing. “I couldn’t lie to you any longer.”
A bitter smile twisted his lips, tugged the scarred flesh of his left cheek. “That is such a fucking lie in itself.”
Her eyes widened. She’d never heard him use such language before. It was almost as fearsome as it was erotic. “It’s not a lie! I could no longer continue with the foolish farce. It was an imprudent idea to begin with.”
“I shan’t argue with you on that point.”
Rose scoffed at him. “You don’t get to play morally superior with me, Grey. I may have been stupid enough to conspire against you, but you didn’t even recognize someone you’ve known for years! If one of us must be the bigger idiot, I think it must be you!” Oh dear God. She covered her mouth with her hand. What had she just said?
Dark arched brows pulled together tightly over stormy blue eyes. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I am an idiot, but only because I allowed this ridiculous ruse past the point when I realized your identity.”
Rose froze—like a damp leaf on an icy pond. “You knew?” And yet he continued to pretend…oh, he was worse than she by far.
“Of course I knew.” He glowered at her. “Blindfold me and I would know the scent of your skin, the exact color and texture of your skin. Do you not realize that I know the color of your eyes right down to the flecks of gold that light their depths?”
Heart pounding, stomach churning in shock, Rose could only stare at him. How could he say such things to her and sound so disgusted? “When?” Her voice was a ragged whisper. “When did you know?”
“I suspected before but tried to deny it. The morning after we last met I took one look at your sweet mouth and knew there couldn’t be two women in the world, let alone London with the same delectable bottom lip.”
It hurt. Oh, she hadn’t thought hearing him say such wonderful things could hurt so much! She pressed a hand to her chest. “You suspected and yet you made love to me any way.”
“Made love?” He snorted. “That’s a girl’s term, Rose. What you and I did…it was something far worse than making trite love.”
Worse? How could he malign what had transpired between them. “So you regret it, despite your own choice to continue with the charade.”
“What I regret,” he growled, suddenly moving toward her, “is your sudden attack of conscience.”
He was mad. She took a step back. “I don’t understand you.”
“If only you had managed to keep your guilt where it belonged.” A ravaged smile curved his lips as he shook his head. “We might have continued on, with neither being the wiser, but now we must endure the rest of the Season together, knowing what we can no longer have.”
“Then you admit you have feelings for me.”
He laughed hollowly. “So many I can scarce discern them all.”
It was a hollow victory at best. “If you care for me and I for you, then why can we not reveal our feelings? You have but to ask and I’m yours.” Even though it meant breaking her promise to her father.
This time Grey’s smile wasn’t bitter, it was sad. “Even if it means never attending another ball? At least not with your husband? Even if it means having people whisper behind your back, pitying you for being married to ‘Ruined Ryeton’?”
Rose opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
He saw her hesitation and grabbed it, but not before she saw the flicker of hurt in his eyes. “Being with me means more than being a recluse, Rose. You and your mother have already been touched by the scandal that surrounds me. I won’t have people speculate that I will drive you insane like I did the lover who had me
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