Page 106 of A Story of Love

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Lori knew it was only in her mind, but it suddenly felt as though the temperature in the room had soared.

Fast sighed and set down his unfinished glass of whiskey. “I probably should have kept that to myself, but it’s time I share a few truths. I am a hypocrite, Lorelei. I say I’m keeping you here for your safety—which is true—but I’m also doing it to satisfy my own pleasure. I’m falling in love with you, darling.” He smiled at the startled noise she made. “It surprised the hell out of me, too—not because you aren’t exceedingly loveable, but because I wasn’t sure I had it in me to feel this way. The last time I felt anything even remotely similar for a woman was more than sixteen years ago.”

“Do you mean the Earl of Moreland’s wife?” she asked, feeling a twinge of jealousy for at least the third time that night, this time for a dead woman.

He shook his head, an expression of amused exasperation on his face. “You’ve found out everything about me, haven’t you?” Before she could deny it, he asked, “Have you ever been in love, Lorelei?”

“No.”

He laughed. “At least you gave the question some thought before answering.”

“I can answer quickly because I’ve given it thought.” A great deal too much thought, she might have told him. What she’d felt for Dorian had been a desire to belong—and giving her body to him had been the key to belonging. Of course she had believed it was love at the time. It was easy to sneer at her behavior in hindsight, but she’d been seventeen and lonely.

“It’s selfish of me, but I’m glad to hear there had been nobody else,” Fast said, pulling her thoughts from the past.

Lori was glad she’d never felt genuine love for Dorian. It would have made what he did to her even more heinous.

As for what she felt for Fast? Well, that was far more complex. Part of her wanted to embrace the emotions roiling inside her—to revel in the sensuality and excitement of being wanted by such a man.

But a larger part of her couldn’t forget the gulf between them. Especially since he’d been the one to mention the nature of their relationship the last time they’d been together. He might love her, but Lorelei was not the sort of woman an heir to a marquessate would marry.

Not that she wanted to marry, of course.

Yes, keep telling yourself that. Maybe one day, you will actually believe it.

Well, regardless of what she wanted, Fast would not marry her. Even if he could overlook her lack of breeding and connections, he would change his mind quickly enough when he learned the truth about Dorain.

“I’ve been having a lot of selfish thoughts when it comes to you,” he said, once again pulling her from her uncomfortable musing.

“Selfish how?”

Fast’s pale eyes flickered over Lori’s body in a way that only added to the heat in the room, her skin prickling and the bodice of her favorite day dress suddenly tight and uncomfortable.

He held out a hand. “Come here, Lorelei.”

Lori wrenched her gaze from his icy blue eyes and looked at his hand. If she took it, she suspected there would be no turning back. Not because he would force anything on her, but because she wouldn’t want to let go of him.

Until he moves on to some other woman, one who is suitable to be his wife, the relentless voice in her head reminded her.

Yes, until then. I can be his lover until he marries…

She pushed away the painful thought even as she reached out and his warm fingers engulfed her much smaller hand.

“Your hand is shaking,” he said, rubbing his thumb lightly over the thin skin on the back of her hand. “Are you nervous?”

“I’m not shaking,” she lied.

Thankfully, he did not laugh or scoff.

“Come and sit.” His booted feet slid apart, and he patted his thigh with his free hand.

Lori’s emotions warred with each other, the desire to crawl into his lap and take what he was offering vying with the urge to protect her heart and run as far and as fast as she could go. He’d just told her that he loved her; either he was manipulating her for some reason—and she didn’t believe that was the case—or he genuinely cared for her. Was wanting him so very bad? He was an intoxicating blending of danger and mystery and allure, like those places on ancient maps that depicted the frightening unknown: here be monsters.

How could a woman possibly say no?

She stood and went to him, lowering herself on shaking legs. His thigh was hard and warm beneath the thin muslin of her gown.