Page 35 of Pretending to Love a Lyon (The Lyon’s Den Connected World)
T hey played games until well after midnight. Sam hadn’t wanted the night to end, but he was rather peaked, and Amelia forced his hand by claiming she was overtired and headachy. She left first, escaping to her room before Graham could see her in the hall.
She had wanted to talk some more or throw her arms around him and kiss him like mad, but the idea also made her palms sweat and her heart flutter with something close to a thrill but also fear.
What he’d said had shaken her to her roots. It was more than just pretty words—they were real. Each syllable had struck her like an arrow through her heart, and she didn’t know what to do about it.
“ You mean more to me than I have words to articulate. I’m not a poetic man, and for that I’m sorry. I cannot adequately describe what you make me feel. Other than... everything. You make me feel everything.”
Amelia paced her room, unpinning her hair and dropping pins on the floor in aggravation. She tortured him, he’d said. That’s exactly what he was doing to her right now. What was she supposed to think? Do?
Fran was already in bed. She had a cold, and Mrs. Keen had made her a strong toddy. So Amelia was left alone to contemplate the day, everything Graham had said, everything Graham had done. To reminisce about the way he’d pinned her to the wall. She clawed her fingers into her hair in frustration, then yanked off her dress. She left everything on the floor in disarray, knowing that tomorrow Fran would look at the mess and shake her head.
She hated to admit he was right, but perhaps he should leave. And if that was what he wanted, then she wasn’t going to beg him to stay. She replayed his words in her mind over and over, even the nothings he’d uttered as he’d sat across from her, losing hand after hand of cards. He’d hardly looked at her, and tomorrow he would leave, and then what? Would he still be her escort? Would he answer a note if it came from her? Would he look at her like he’d done this morning ever again? She couldn’t go on without seeing that look again and feeling his hands on her body.
Would he marry? Could she stand to see him marry someone and look at his wife like that? Amelia threw herself on her bed. All these questions had no answers. If she were a braver woman, she would go to him, demand to know whether he meant to marry or if it was nonsense spoken for her brother’s sake. Was he truly tortured by his feelings for her? He didn’t look it. If he were, if he’d meant all those things he’d said, then how could he simply move on to another woman?
Her body revolted at the thought—stomach hollowing, throat burning. She could not see him with another woman. Not now, not ever. But she could not keep him for herself, either. Could she?
No. They were too much at odds. Even if his touches and kisses were magic, their words were still poison too often. Even now with their mutual understanding over Sam, too much of their time had been spent arguing and not just talking about the things they liked: music, theater, books, sweets...
“You make me feel everything.”
She let out a soft sob. Everything. He made her feel everything, too. She ran the gamut of emotions when in his presence. Even feelings she didn’t want to admit. When his arms came around her, her body sank with relief. When his jaw brushed her temple, she had to fight the urge to smile. If she was close enough to catch a whiff of his scent, his soap, or whatever he used that made him smell like Graham, she calmed, her mind and spirit quieting.
Why was she so loath to admit these things?
When he’d danced with her at her come-out ball, his hands had been hot against her dress, and she’d sweat from every pore of her body, barely able to hold his gaze. Graham was like no other man. Which made him hard to read and hard to manage. He challenged her.
Did she want to be challenged? Yes. How boring would life be without it? But was it enough?
Amelia grabbed her brush to run it through her hair. She stared at her reflection, sullen and flushed. She blew out the candle on her dressing table, her reflection now cast in shadows and sat there silent and troubled in the darkness for a long moment.
There was movement behind her, and she stilled, watching the mirror as if what happened there might reveal the future to her and tell her what to do.
It showed Graham slipping into her room, dressed casually in his breeches and shirt, untucked, feet bare. He did not spot her by the dressing table and instead moved toward the bed where her one candle still burned. In the candlelight she saw him frown, finding her bed empty. She bit her lip. This was the perfect opportunity to frighten him.
“I’m over here,” she said quietly. She chose the mature route, the path that might lead to the places her heart and body yearned to go—Graham’s arms.
His head snapped toward her, and he straightened.
“What are you doing?” he asked in a strained whisper.
She waved her brush at him. “What are you doing in my room, sir?” She could be mature but still herself, couldn’t she?
He ran a hand through his hair, and she bit back a smile. He seemed flustered, and she enjoyed it. She set her brush down and pivoted to face him on her stool. She lifted her shift to her thighs to roll down her stockings.
He made a small noise and came around the foot of her bed, gripping the post, but no farther. “I came to see if you were all right. I know you are upset.”
She shrugged, her amusement fading. He was coming to check on her because that was the kind of person he was, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind about staying. “I can’t force you to remain here. If you want to go, go.”
“You know I don’t want to go. Don’t pretend.”
She yanked her stocking off her foot, and it floated to the floor. He watched it intently.
“Pretending, isn’t that what we’re doing?” she asked sharply. Why was he doing this? He wanted her, but he wanted to leave. What was she supposed to do or feel besides hurt?
“We were,” he said, refocusing on her legs as she rolled down her other stocking. His breathing quickened. “Is that still what you want?”
She wanted him, that was all she knew. Amelia cleared her throat. “Will you still escort me to social functions until my brother is able?”
“I’ll do anything you need me to do.”
Her stomach tightened. Would he? If she begged, would he stay? She’d asked, and he said no, but if she begged him on her hands and knees, would he change his mind? Would he forget about finding a wife and simply be hers without strings attached?
Was that what she wanted? Graham, for herself, always?
Yes.
The realization washed over her body like a sunrise. She closed her eyes and leaned over her leg, forgetting to continue rolling down her stocking. The touch of his hand startled her as he took over, rolling the silk over her foot and tossing it away.
“Graham,” she said, more needy than she’d ever been. She was ready to beg. But she didn’t know what to say to make him stay.
He set his hands on the stool on either side of her hips. “I’m trying to do what is best for both of us. I let things get too far. I don’t want you to think any of this is your fault.”
She sucked in a breath, catching the pain in his eyes. “You feel guilty, is that it? You think you took advantage of a na?ve girl.”
“No. It isn’t that simple, Amelia. There is a line I cannot cross, but every day with you, it fades a little more and I don’t want to continue down this path when I know that we won’t arrive at the end together.”
“What does that mean? What path?” She shook her head in confusion.
“The path to marriage. I am not a man who takes a woman to bed carelessly.”
“But you have. I can see you have engaged in a relationship with Julia, and yet you are not married to her. What makes me different from her?”
“You’re different because you mean more to me than Julia ever did. With Julia, neither my heart nor hers was at risk. I did not love her, and I had no intention of loving her.”
Amelia’s heart lurched. What was he saying and why was she so terrified to hear it? It took a few more seconds before his words penetrated her foggy thoughts and she understood. He wanted more from her than just physical desire or nothing. He wanted to love her and marry her—not for her brother’s sake but for his own. And love and marriage were two things Amelia had thought she’d never have after her first season, and she’d accepted that. Men had seemed inclined to want her for her money more than for her heart, so she’d built a wall around her heart. She’d given up on the notion of marriage so completely it sounded utterly foreign to her now. But... if she were brave enough, could she claim his love for herself, in spite of it all?
Did she deserve his love, after how utterly selfish she’d been?
She wasn’t certain she did, and now it made sense. He wanted to leave to protect himself.