Page 63 of The Forbidden Lord

Shoving him away, she moved back into the muted candlelight, hugging herself tightly. “I willneverunderstand you. How can a man live without love, without the softer emotions? How can you even bear to get out of bed in the morning?”

“I have no trouble getting out of bed, I assure you. I don’t need ‘love’ to get through the day. That’s something I found out quite young.”

“What do you mean?”

His expression turned as smooth and hard as glass. “I didn’t come here to discuss the state of my heart. It has nothing to do with whether you can trust me. I may not be a sentimental fool, but I’m a decent, honorable man who hates watching you engage in a masquerade I know you detest. I want to help you, Emily. You can trust me with your secrets. I’ll do what I can to protect you from Nesfield and Lady Dundee.”

Alarm surged through her. “N-Nesfield?”

“It’s obvious they have some hold over you. You wouldn’t agree to this insanity otherwise. And I can help you with them. I know I can.”

Panic filled her. If he started to question Lord Nesfield— “No one can help me, but especially not you. Please, Jordan, just leave it be!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” She wrung her hands as she approached him. “It doesn’t concern you. It’ll all be over soon. Then I’ll return to Willow Crossing and disappear from your life, and you won’t be bothered by me any more.”

“Deuce take it, Emily, I’m not bothered by you. I want to help!”

“I don’t want your help! Can’t you get that through your thick head? The only way you can help is by staying out of it!”

“You won’t tell me what’s going on?”

“No!” She lowered her voice. “Please promise me you won’t interfere. You mustn’t interfere.”

“I won’t interfere. But I won’t stay out of it either.”

“A curse upon you, Jordan. Why are you so intent on ruining my life?”

“I’m not ruining your life. I’m trying to keepyoufrom ruining it.” He gestured to her gown. “This … this role of yours seems to involve your enticing men and gadding about scantily clad. That’s more dangerous than you realize, especially if you flirt with them as nonchalantly as you flirted with me.”

She wanted to take hope from the jealous edge in his voice, but she knew better. “The only man dangerous to me is you.”

“Really? And Pollock hasn’t touched you? He hasn’t made advances?”

The question so took her by surprise that she blushed before she could stop it.

“I thought so,” he growled. “Devil take the bastard?—”

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” she broke in. “I’m not as stupid and naïve as you think. I know how to deal with men like him.”

He laughed harshly. “Yes, I could tell that this afternoon.”

Her blush deepened. How dared he remind her of how wantonly she’d behaved.

The interlude music had ended, and she could hear people milling back into the opera house. Soon Lady Dundee would return with Ian. She’d never be able to deal with Jordan and them, too. Besides, she was tired of his insinuations.

Briskly she walked to the door and held it open. “Get out. Get out and stay away from me.”

He glanced at the filling theater, then stalked toward her. Halting at the doorway, he fixed her with a piercing look. “I’ll leave—for now. But depend on it, I’m not staying away from you. Not until I get to the bottom of this.”

And with that, he stormed from the box.

Ophelia decided that St. Clair knew nothing of Emily’s identity. She’d given the man plenty of opportunities to discuss it, and he hadn’t said a thing. So Blackmore had apparently kept Emily’s secret. Wasn’t that interesting?

They were returning to the box when she spotted Blackmore himself emerging from it. She stopped short and grabbed the viscount’s arm. “Would you look at that?”

As St. Clair followed the direction of her gaze, he went rigid. “Bloody hell. I’m sorry, Lady Dundee. I’ll go after him, and tell him he’s not welcome?—”