Page 41 of A Proposition for the Comte

‘Go to sleep.’

She nodded, all words gone, the stillness of the night like an echo.

She awoke alone and naked the next morning, her ruined gown draped across a chair beside her bed, nothing left of him save the wetness between her legs, the ghost of passion.

Smiling, she stretched, feeling the ache in places she had not before and revelling in the difference.

Could she love Aurelian de la Tomber after knowing him for such a small time? Did she trust herself to even think this? With Harland she had imagined the same within days of meeting him and then paid for such a stupidity for all of the next six years. Perhaps she was cursed?

A shiver coursed through her. Love or lust? Truth or lies?

She did know one thing, though, to the very centre of her core. She knew she wanted Aurelian de la Tomber to be here beside her with his magical hands and body more than she had wanted anything else in her entire life.

But what would he be feeling? She had been wanton and forward and loose. She had offered him her body for safety and had come away from their tryst into a far more precarious position.

Other bindings now tied her to him and she wondered how she would face him when she saw him at the next soirée. Would he acknowledge what had happened? Small tremors of doubt began to fill her certainty.

Would he feel the same as she did, a man with a wealth of experience with women? A jaded and generous lover?

She turned over in her bed and buried her face in the pillow. Could she survive indifference after this, she who had promised herself never again to be involved with anyone? She had told him her inner secrets and lies. She had allowed him knowledge of things that could destroy her. She had showed him the note and trusted in him.

If he played her false...?

No. She would not think that he might.

It was safety she was after while she unravelled the mystery of who was trying to kill her. Surely at least their unusual bargain would extend to keeping the faith in that.