JORDAN Nicole (36 page)

In other words, you were allowed to be a child,Roslyn thought with silent empathy. “It must have been lonely living here as a young boy,” she said aloud.

He shrugged. “I rarely saw my parents. And of course I wasn’t allowed to associate with other children—certainly not the staff’s children, since we had our consequence to uphold. But Mathers made it bearable. And after I met Marcus and Heath at school, I was never lonely.” Drew shot her a wry glance. “But you can see why I was glad to leave here.”

“Indeed I can.”

She would have been glad to leave, too, Roslyn thought with a shudder. The huge house, though magnificent, was cold and intimidating, devoid of life and warmth. She couldn’t imagine living in such a house.

Thankfully her own upbringing had been quite different from Drew’s. For the first eighteen years of her life she’d had the love of her mother and her sisters, and her father to some extent. Now she had her academy and her friends to provide mutual warmth and affection, in addition to her sisters.

Her own mother was very different from Drew’s, as well. Even though Victoria Loring was a noblewoman in her own right, she had sincerely loved her daughters. Thanks to Marcus, they had recently been reunited with Victoria and learned the truth about why she’d been forced to flee the country with her lover. She hadn’t wanted to abandon her daughters, and in fact grieved over it.

But clearly the Duchess of Arden bore little love for her son. Instead, Mathers had taken the place of Drew’s mother.

Roslyn was glad that he’d had someone to love him when he was such a young child, and disliked the duchess intensely for the emotional barrenness she’d inflicted upon him.

Imagining Drew’s loneliness as a boy—and seeing his strained maternal relationship now—brought out Roslyn’s protective instincts. Which was absurd, since Drew was a fully grown man, perfectly capable of defending himself against his mother.

“You were fortunate to have Mathers,” Roslyn murmured.

“Extremely fortunate. She was one of the few people who treated me as a normal boy and not a duke’s son…and one of the fewer still whose motives I never had to question.” He hesitated, glancing at Roslyn. “By the time I was out of short coats, I had learned that most people want something from me.”

“Because of your wealth and consequence?”

“Yes. And when I was sixteen, that lesson was driven home quite painfully.”

“What happened when you were sixteen?”

“I let myself be seduced.”

Roslyn met his eyes, wondering if he was jesting. But she could tell by the rough shadow of emotion there that he was in earnest. “That seems hard to imagine.”

“Regrettably, it’s true. She was strikingly beautiful and my first lover…a young widow only four years my senior but far more experienced. I should have known better than to trust her professions of love, but I was in the throes of lust, suffering a young man’s infatuation. I was heartbroken when I discovered how she’d schemed to ensnare me so she could become my duchess. She had another lover all along, a lover she planned to keep after we were wed.”

“So that is what made you so cynical about love?” Roslyn asked quietly.

“I expect so.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Truthfully, though, I haven’t thought of her in years.” Drew suddenly shook his head. “Enough maudlin sentiment for one afternoon. Let me show you my newest drainage ditch. The science can be quite fascinating.”

There was a glint of sardonic humor in his eyes as he turned his horse away from the cottage, yet Roslyn was not surprised that he’d deliberately changed the subject.

What did surprise her was how vulnerable those vibrant green eyes had been for a moment. Even more surprising was that Drew had let her see his vulnerability.

She could no longer blame him for his cynicism, though, Roslyn reflected as she urged her horse alongside his. And the fact that he’d been hurt so bitterly as a young man roused even stronger protective instincts in her. She wanted to wrap her arms around him, to kiss away his hurt—

Forcibly quelling the yearning, Roslyn bit her lower lip. She didn’t want to see this tender, vulnerable side of Drew. It was far easier to resist the seductive rake, the cynical nobleman.

Which madeher too vulnerable to him. She could so easily lose her heart to this man. And that could be disastrous.

It would be a tremendous mistake to fall in love with Drew when her love wasn’t returned. He wasn’t willing to let himself love anyone, to let himself trust, and she would be a fool to let herself hope otherwise.

Drew found his thoughts predictably unsettled as they concluded the tour of his estates. He’d taken Eleanor’s advice and risked sharing something of himself with Roslyn, recounting the sordid little tale of how he’d been played for a fool by his first lover, duped by a beautiful widow who’d left his young heart in pieces.

He’d recovered fairly quickly, and the experience no longer caused him pain, but it was still uncomfortable for him to remember.

Fortunately he rarely thought of the widow anymore. He’d determinedly wiped her from his mind long ago. But the lesson she’d taught him had never left him. The wariness was always there, hovering at the back of his consciousness.

His distrust was the reason he’d always shied away from matrimony so resolutely. He didn’t want to be locked in a marriage with a woman who only wanted his wealth and title. He wanted to be loved for himself—

The significance of that realization was a little startling, Drew admitted silently. It was the first time in his life he’d ever acknowledged wanting love.

He wanted a wife who could love him for himself.

Could Roslyn possibly be that woman? Unconsciously his gaze went to her as she rode beside him. She would make him an excellent duchess, he knew. Her graciousness, her easy manner with his tenants today, had shown him how effortlessly she could fill the role of lady of Arden Castle.

Unquestionably she would bring warmth to his house. Unlike his brittle, domineering mother, who held her underlings in contempt, who ruled her domain like an ice queen.

Roslyn could be regal in her demeanor, but she was the stark opposite of an ice queen. Rather, she was the very essence of warmth. This afternoon she wore a small shako hat, with her hair knotted simply at her nape. Her golden hair seemed to absorb the sunlight, Drew realized as he watched her, while her smile seemed to rival it.

Her smile was lovely and warm and made him ache inside with longing. A longing that went much deeper than carnal desire, Drew acknowledged.

Roslyn stirred uncomfortable emotions in him that were far more potent—and significantly more disturbing.

Even so, he relished the feeling.

For years he’d striven for emotional detachment. If he didn’t feel for people, then he couldn’t be betrayed. His two closest friends, Marcus and Heath, had never betrayed him, never disappointed him, and thus had earned his undying trust and loyalty.

But he was in danger of becoming too much like his mother, with the same coldness, the same haughty detachment, the same loneliness.

Until now he’d never thought of himself as lonely, but Roslyn’s question a moment ago had made him realize that he was indeed lonely much of the time—or he had been before meeting her. She had roused him from his self-protective shell. Had brought enchantment to his hitherto dispassionate existence. Since coming to know her, his life had been fuller, richer. More passionate.

Drew felt himself frown. Perhaps he’d been unconsciously searching for passion all this time and hadn’t even known it. A woman who could make him feel something more profound than mere physical pleasure. Who could shake him out of his cold, emotionless existence.

Regardless, he was very glad Roslyn had come into his life. Despite the danger of the emotions she made him feel. Despite even the supreme sexual frustration that her nearness caused him.

Physical discomfort, though painful, was worth enduring if he could share her warmth.

Drew was not eager to subject Roslyn to his mother again, but dinner turned out to be bearable even with its stiff formality, because the duchess kept her scornful remarks to a minimum, and Roslyn kept up a polite conversation that eased the strain.

After dinner, however, was another question entirely. Proper custom dictated that ladies repair to the drawing room while gentlemen enjoyed their port wine. But Drew had no desire to drink by himself, and absolutely no intention of leaving Roslyn alone with the Dragon, so he accompanied them to the large drawing room.

His refusal to conform to convention roused the duchess’s ire even more than he expected; no sooner had they settled in chairs when she launched her first volley. “You disappoint me, Arden. You know I do not tolerate ill-bred behavior in my house.”

Drew had to work to keep his reply bland. “Actually, it is my house, Mother.”

“Perhaps, but if you expect me to pretend to support this unsuitable betrothal of yours, you will accede to my wishes.”

Drew’s jaw hardened, but his mother went on stonily.

“You know very well I don’t approve of this match. You can do much better in choosing a bride. Miss Loring is so far beneath you—”

He cut off her tirade in midstream. “First, Mother, it is not your place to tell me what bride to choose. And second, Icannot do better than Miss Loring.”

“Well, you must, because I will not give my blessing to such an unequal arrangement.”

He returned his mother’s haughty stare measure for measure. “Youwill, or you will remove to the dower house in the morning.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Certainly I would dare. I’ll order your personal belongings carried there and have you barred from the Castle before I return to London. My staff will obey my wishes, you know they will.”

The duchess paled, gaping at him in fury.

Throughout their argument, Roslyn had remained silent, but now she intervened.

“Drew,” Roslyn said in a low voice. “It doesn’t matter. I have never desired to climb any higher in society. I am perfectly content where I am.”

“It damn well matters to me.”

Nearly quivering with rage, the duchess rose to her feet. “You will not swear in my presence, sirrah, do I make myself clear?”

Rising just as abruptly, Drew held out his hand to Roslyn. “Come, sweetheart, I cannot stay here another moment without succumbing to the urge to do murder.”

His mother gasped in outrage, but Drew paid her no attention as he pulled Roslyn from the room. Without stopping, he stalked through the house to the library, Roslyn still in tow.

She made no objection to his rapid pace, but by the time he pushed open the French doors and escaped onto the terrace, she was a trifle breathless. It was only then that Drew realized he had let his wrath get the better of him. Usually he managed to control his fierce urge to throttle his mother by determinedly ignoring her.

Muttering an apology, he dropped Roslyn’s hand and crossed the terrace to the stone balustrade, where he stared out at the stately gardens. A full moon had just risen, so the peaceful view was a stark contrast to the anger roiling inside him.

He sensed more than saw Roslyn move to stand beside him.

Her tone was hesitant, wary, when she finally spoke. “I don’t wish to come between you and your mother, Drew.”

“You haven’t come between us,” he said through gritted teeth. “We have been at loggerheads for years. Normally I let her have her way—but not this time.”

“I think you are making too much of the matter. I don’t want or need her approval. And I should think you wouldn’t, either.”

“I don’t want it for myself, but for you. She can assure your place in society if she chooses to.”

“But truly, it doesn’t matter to me. And I certainly don’t want you to battle over it. It is too distressing. Perhaps I’m craven, but my parents’ battles left me with a dread of strife.”

Drew felt his heart twist. His ire had reached the boiling point with his mother’s implacable view of her consequence and her tyrannical need to govern anyone who came into her realm. But he had no right to take his anger out on Roslyn.

Turning, he reached down to take her hand and bring it to his lips. “Forgive me, sweeting. I should not have let my temper get the best of me.”

She smiled up at him tentatively. “Well…youdid have grave provocation. But I doubt the local magistrate would look kindly upon the murder of a duchess. Especially one so closely related to you.”

His lips curved faintly at her forced attempt at humor, but all his thoughts faded when his gaze came to rest on Roslyn’s upturned face. In the moonlight, her beauty caught him like a sharp blow.

His heart started to pound as he stared at her. As want, need, desire suddenly filled him.

Without conscious thought, he leaned closer. He wasn’t supposed to touch her. He’d promised himself he would employ romance to woo her, not seduction. But he couldn’t bear to let another moment pass without tasting her, touching her.

Unable to help himself, Drew lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her slowly, letting his tongue slide inside, savoring her sweetness, her warmth. After a brief second of shocked stillness, Roslyn opened to him. Swaying weakly against him, she reached up to steady herself, then clutched his upper arms as if to pull him even closer.

At her hungry response, Drew wanted nothing more than to drag her into his embrace, but instead, he summoned every ounce of willpower he possessed to break off. Giving a low groan, he stepped back, putting a safer distance between them.

The kiss had left him raw and aching, left his voice hoarse with need when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to succumb to temptation. I meant to keep my hands off you entirely. To show I could woo you the way you want to be wooed.”

She searched his face for a long moment, then swallowed before replying. “Thatis the way I want to be wooed, Drew. With tenderness.”

His chuckle sounded pained. “I’m afraid I couldn’t manage tenderness for long. And I sure as the devil won’t be able to stop with a mere kiss.”

“I don’t want you to stop.”

His gaze arrested. “Do you know what you are saying?”