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drawing- room. Thea had provided her with a copy of Clarissa. An hour
later, Jane and Thea announced they were leaving to pay their morning
calls. Claire finally gave up on Clarissa and leaned back against the
cushions with a heavy sigh.
Jack. No matter how she tried, she could think of nothing but his
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kiss. And her response.
She had suffered Marcus's kisses and lovemaking. His kisses had been
brutal, the intimacies of the marriage bed brief and humiliating.
There had been no tenderness, and she'd soon learned he wanted no
response from her except passive submission. She had learned to drift
away in her mind, caring little what happened to her body. But not
last night. Her body had come alive under Jack's skilful hands and
mouth. She had been aware only of him, the scent and taste of him, the
feel of his muscles under her hands. She had been shocked by the
intensity of her response and more than a little afraid. She closed
her eyes with a groan. Unfortunately, if she were forced to spend too
many days idle like this she would have far too much time on her hands
to brood.
"Lord Rotham."
Her eyes jerked open at the sound of the butler's voice. She hardly
had time to respond before the subject of her thoughts strode into the
drawing-room. He carried a large bouquet of flowers in one hand.
"I... I am not receiving," Claire stammered. Her heart was thudding
much too loud, and her hands felt clammy.
He came to stand in front of her.
"So I was informed. However, I have some business with you." He
looked down at her, his face rather grim as if the business was not
particularly pleasant.
"Oh." Nothing else sprang to mind.
He handed her the bouquet. It was a lovely mix of roses and pink
dianthus and Queen Anne's lace. The spicy scent of the pinks blended
with the sweet, heavy fragrance of the roses.
"I hope your foot is better," he said.
Claire inhaled the scent of the flowers and glanced up into his face.
"Yes, thank you. The flowers are beautiful," she added rather shyly.
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Why did he look so stiff?
She was even more confused when he tugged at his cravat as if he was
nervous. He picked up a figurine from the table near the sofa, then
put it down, clearing his throat.
"Is there something wrong?" Claire asked. He looked very peculiar.
"No." He frowned at her.
"Will you marry me?" he asked abruptly.
Claire stared at him, the blood draining from her face. Surely she had
misheard.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I asked if you would marry me." A tinge of red washed over his
cheekbones. His voice was cool and stiff. Exactly as it had been six
years ago when he'd asked her the very same question. Claire's hands
tightened around the bouquet. Her head spun, her mouth was dry.
"But why? Surely it ... it cannot be because of last night?" Did he
again think he was obligated to marry her to save her reputation?
"No." His mouth relaxed a little.
"Perhaps. If only because you need a protector. You have a propensity
for getting into trouble."
"Really?"
Claire's voice shook despite her attempts to remain calm.
"Is that the only reason? I assure you the last thing I need is a
husband to protect me."
"No, that's not the only reason." He clasped his hands behind his back
and paced towards the mantelpiece, then turned to face her.
"I need a wife. My relations have brought it to my attention that it
is time I marry."
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A wave of disappointment washed over her.
"I am certain there are many women who would be pleased to oblige
them." Claire stared down at the bouquet, praying she would not cry.
"That may be true. However, I wish to marry you."
The impersonal, cool tone stiffened her spine. As if he had looked
over a selection of eligible women and decided she would most suit his
requirements. She gave him a cool look.
"I can't imagine why. We do nothing but quarrel."
His gaze swept over her face and then down to her lips. A slight smile
lifted his mouth.
"Not all the time," he said softly. She blushed in spite of herself.
"I must thank you for your flattering offer, but I do not want another
husband."
"Why not?"
His blunt words caught her off guard.
"Because I do not wish to give up my independence ever again."
He looked at her for a moment.
"I see. Very well, as my wife you will be free to do as you wish
within certain bounds."
"Certain bounds?
And what are those, my lord? " Claire was beginning to become
indignant. He sounded as if it was a settled matter. His look was
direct.
"I would expect you to remain faithful to me." As men always did while
they pursued their own amorous interests.
"Really? And I do not suppose you would put the same limitations on
yourself."
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"I would."
Taken aback, she dropped her gaze to the bouquet, her blood pounding in
her ears. He would be faithful to her? But he would expect her to
perform her wifely duties, warming his bed. The thought of lying in
his arms was making her dizzy and more than a little afraid. And he
had said nothing of love.
"Well?"
She looked up to find him watching her very closely.
"I... I cannot accept your offer."
"I intend to see you will."
She gasped.
"What are you talking about? You cannot force me to marry you."
He stalked towards her, a determined look in his eyes. She made an
attempt to swing her legs over the edge of the sofa, but the movement
only made her foot hurt. She shrank behind the bouquet, her eyes wide
as he came to loom over her. The brief thought that he planned to
abduct her crossed her mind.
"Jack, don't!" she pleaded in a breathless voice as he leaned towards [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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