She pushed from the window and turned to Mikhail. “He jilted me. And I was hurt and angry. Hurt he would think so little of me, and of the wonderful persons Lord Anthony and Lady Constance are.”
Payton balled her hands into tight fists. “He abandoned me without a word. He drifted away, stopped calling, and was not gentleman enough to face me to end our engagement. Against my aunt’s advice, I visited his home, and I was not even admitted.” Payton ended on a whisper, the humiliating memory twisting her stomach into knots.
The entire situation infuriated her. “I moved past his betrayal, society’s derision, and I even started to feel relief. Happy I had escaped what might have possibly turned out to be a shallow union. And now he is once again pursuing me, and my family pretends he did not shred my heart because he is a lord. I will not wed a man who treated me with such little regard,” she growled.
“Then do not marry him.”
She paced, agitation battering her senses. “You do not understand, Mikhail. If my father says I must, what choice do I have?” She closed her eyes. “I will flee. I have been thinking to return to my grandmother in America. It will be a daunting journey to take by myself, but I fear I must escape my family’s persistent pressure or crumble to their demands and join in an unhappy union.”
His veiled gaze settled on her face. “What happened to prompt this command?”
She fought to control her emotions. It was silly of her to feel betrayed. She had long accepted that Lord Jensen had no honor. She tried to swallow down the raw emotions rising in her throat. “He lied to my father. St. John has insisted he took my chastity when we were engaged. I never gave myself to him! It is convenient for my mother and aunt to believe it, for they will get their hearts’ desire for me to be a viscountess. I will never marry into the haute monde.”
The sob she’d been valiantly holding on to broke free. Oh God.
Mikhail pushed from the table, and in two strides he was there drawing her to him. Strong arms closed around her, and she eagerly burrowed into the warmth and comfort in his reassuring embrace, slipping her hands around his waist and hugging him tight.
He froze, and she heard the thud of his heart against the side of her face pressed into his chest.
“I apologize,” she whispered, dropping her hands from his waist. “I forgot your aversion to touch.”
He cleared his throat. “Think nothing of it; I would welcome your embrace for a few moments if it would ease you.”
The words wrapped around her heart, terrifying and intriguing, because she somehow knew he had never made the offer to another. A new type of warmth unfurled in her chest. She wanted to twine herself around Mikhail, burrow further into his heat until the uncertainty faded. But she could not. Though he offered, he braced himself stoically for her to accept, his eyes shadowing with unnamed but volatile emotions. She shifted in his arms and tilted her head to look at him fully.
His gaze was shuttered, and the tenseness had yet to ease from his frame.
“I am contented, thank you.” Then a horrible thought occurred. What if he hated touching her as well, and because of her inexcusable tears he was forcing himself to hold her, to offer comfort? “Would you like me to step back?”
“No…I would be a foolish man to want to relinquish a beautiful lady from my arms.”
Payton smothered a snort, and he chuckled, the sound dark and full of sensual promise.
“Do you want me to release you?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
Acute awareness of his hands resting against her back, the far-too-intimate nature of their embrace slithered through her. In his touch she felt strength and restraint. His closeness should have intimidated her and made her feel nervous, but he provided a curious sense of comfort. “No. I want you to hold me closer.”
Surprise flared in his eyes, and then he masked it. The need to pierce his armor welled in Payton. She lifted her fingers to his lips. She touched him with a featherlight caress, fleeting and tentative, gliding her fingertip across his jaw.
He tensed, but he did not retreat, and Payton claimed a small victory in a war she did not understand. “I want you to kiss me.”
His breathing fractured. “No.”
She swallowed, and a blush climbed her face. Once again she was being very unladylike, all her aunt’s deportment lessons forgotten. Before she could question him, he dropped his arms from her and stepped away.
“I can see the questions forming in your eyes. Do not doubt the strength of my desire for you, Payton,” he said. “But I cannot accept the invitation in your eyes until I speak with your parents about courting you.”
“You want to court me…for possible marriage?”
“Yes.”
The reason Payton had been happy with the honorable Lord Jensen was because he’d made her feel safe in the uncertain and privileged world of the haute monde. She’d agreed to marry him before, knowing she would never taste the depth of passion her sister, Phillipa, had burned with when she’d spoken of Lord Anthony. Since meeting Mikhail, Payton had felt the potent rush of desire in a manner that was shocking, but was it enough to consent to courtship knowing her family’s objection? Knowing how much she had been hurt before when she had dared?
His blue eyes darkened and blazed with need while he waited for her response.
She was stepping dangerously close to falling for a man she hardly knew. “I have tried harder to be more ladylike.” He reached for her, and she held up a hand, halting him. “I…I feel things with you I have never felt with another…I actively think of kissing you. You do not have expectations of ridiculous ladylike behaviors, and you have afforded me the courtesy of being myself. I would like to get to know you more…but my father would never consent to you calling on me, especially now.”
“Is that your only objection?”
“I…yes…maybe.”
He raised an enquiring brow.
“I never thought I would agree to courtship again so soon.” She had known Lord Jensen for several months, and his actions had still caught her off guard. “I do not want to be hurt, and I do not want to hurt you.”
“I will not hurt you.”
She snorted. “You cannot promise that, and I will not tolerate another gentleman abusing my feelings.”
“Does this mean you will never open yourself again to a man?”
“No…I do eventually want a family.”
“Pain is a part of life,” he said, a dark under
current in his tone. “I will do everything in my power not to hurt you.” A guarded look descended over his face. “I cannot promise I will succeed, but I will promise to never willfully cause you pain, and I will promise to give everything of me that I’m able to give. You will not have cause to regret forming an attachment with me, Payton.”
Everything he was able to give? “Will you also allow me to touch you?” Please say yes.
He stiffened, and she moved close enough to him that the hem of her dress curled around his shoes.
“You said you will give me as much as you are able to of yourself. Do you mean you will not allow my touch?”
Shadows shifted in the depth of his eyes. “Yes.”
Never? Questions hovered on the tip of her tongue, but his shuttered mien urged caution. She retreated, gathering her thoughts. She enjoyed being with him, and she was willing to explore the budding feelings sprouting to life. “I will warn you, if you hurt me in a fashion that is deliberate or could have been avoided, me bashing your head in with a poker will be the least of your troubles,” she said lightly.
Amusement quirked his lip, and he prowled close, sleek and graceful, shortening the distance she’d assumed he wanted. “Does this mean you want to know me more, that you will give me a chance?”
“Oh yes.” A flush shivered through her at her much too enthused response.
The amusement fled from his gaze, and the intensity that replaced it had her heart squeezing.
He cupped her cheeks with both hands, tilting her head up, using one of his thumbs to swipe across her lower lip in an erotic caress. “Do not be embarrassed. I possess a similar need to know all of your secrets. I hunger to know your passion, what you dream of, the food you love, what makes you angry, what makes you throw back your head and laugh without a care in the world, what makes your golden eyes darken with need, and what makes you moan in abandonment.”
His assertions burned all her doubts to ash. It was more than foolhardy, for her parents would never allow her happiness with him. “Books,” she whispered.
“What?”