Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle (218 page)

Scott

'Philippa, no one in London would receive us. We'd live a life of exile and I could not doom you to that.

I could not doom myself to that,' he added selfishly.

could not be fooled, and her face tilted, perplexed by the incongruous statement. 'Do such things matter to you? I thought if you had your horses and your gardens and me, it would be enough.' She rose and moved into his embrace, her head finding its way to his shoulder.

let her, although he held himself stiff, his arms wooden at his side. He was tired of fighting on all fronts. It was inevitable now. He was down to last things. He would not see

after tonight. He'd

decided already that he could not go back to his home in

and watch her become the wife

of a neighbour. It would drive him insane to know she and her husband lived only a day's ride away.

He'd known when he met her tonight what he had to do. He'd known she would try to argue against her father's choice. He'd known he would have to resist her entreaties no matter what form they took. He had not known how painful it would be.

In her desperation,

was arguing with all

the tools at her disposal, even her body as she was doing now. Early on in their relationship, he'd revelled in teaching her about a man's body. There was something heady about tutoring one's beloved in the sensual arts. He'd never dreamed he would not be the one to teach her the ultimate love lesson. He fought back the wave of nausea sweeping his form.

raised her head from his shoulder, a lock of her long hair falling from its loose coiffure.

16

The Viscount Claims His Bride

Valerian involuntarily reached out to brush the russet strand back from her face. How many times had he made that gesture in the past months?

'If you won't marry me or compromise me, at least give me one night of passion. Let me be with you, as we intended to be together,' she whispered.

Just hearing her utter the words completed his growing erection.

small moan of regret escaped

his lips as he shut his eyes, gathering his strength.

With her head on his shoulder, thankfully she could not see the torture on his face, although he knew she could feel his desire straining against her stomach.

God knew how much he wanted her. He made no attempt to hide his arousal. She knew how she affected him and he her. But he was a man of honour.

He'd promised to let her go.

'That's a very unwise suggestion, Philippa,' he heard himself saying in a steady voice that sounded as if it came from another man who watched the vignette unfolding with great uninterest.

'Please, Val,'

cried, clutching his hands. 'I

love you and you love me, I know you do. I can feel it.'

He had to end this scene soon. She was on the verge of breaking and his restraint was failing. If this went on much longer, his reserve would crack and they would spend the rest of their lives paying for the foolishness of a few mad minutes. He would not do that to her.

'Don't beg. I can't stand to see you grovel,' he said in a low voice close to her ear. Then he released her and stepped back, preparing to say the most dif-

Scott

words he'd ever uttered, but he had to make her believe them. 'I do love you, but perhaps not in the same way you love me. I am sorry if you've misunderstood my intentions when we started our little experiment in

We are finished now, you and

I. Whatever we had is done, a fair-weather fling.

That is how it is for a man.'

He could feel the nervous tic jump in his cheek as a silent curtain fell between them.

tickling bead of

sweat ran its slow race down his back as he waited on her next words. His heart

with his mind. His

mind wanted her to see the practical logic of ending their

and accept his hurtful fabrication. His heart wanted her to see the words for the farce they were.

He watched coldness steal over Philippa's face as her features changed from desperation back to anger.

An unchecked fury raged in the depths of her eyes as her mind raced towards the conclusions he'd wanted her to draw. When she spoke, he could hear her voice tremble with emotions.

'A fair-weather

This was all a game to you?

Everything was a lie?' she cried as the truth spread across her face, like clouds across the sun, as she began to acknowledge the import of his words. He wished he didn't know her so well as to guess her thoughts. In her pale face he saw her doubt and pain. He knew that she believed that every knowing look, hot kiss and searing touch had been little more than seductive perjury of the worst kind. He'd played his part well.

She believed those gestures had meant nothing at all to him while they had

everything to her.

18

The
Viscount
Claims
His
Bride

'I thought you were a man of honour, Valerian.'

Her voice trembled. Her heart was breaking.

Valerian tightened the reins on his resolve. 'I am a man of honour. That's why I feel I need to call a halt before our sweet interlude goes any further.'

'Interlude?'

was incredulous. 'You make

it sound as if our

is nothing more than an

intermission at the theatre! Something to occupy your time between activities!'

Valerian held himself stiffly, ready to deliver the
coup

grace, the last stroke. 'I am to leave tomorrow to join my uncle on the Continent, something of a belated Grand Tour now that peace has been restored.'

'Valerian, this is not like you. You're playing a cruel game.' There was reproach in her voice for both of them. Reproach for his despicable behaviour and self-chiding for her rashness. She was wrong, of course, he loved her very much, but there was no honourable way out of the situation. Perhaps it was best if she believed the worst, that his love was a fraud, that she was an extended exercise in dalliance. Valerian said nothing in his own defence. Instead, he gave her a neat bow.

leave you here. I can see you need a

moment to collect yourself before returning to the ball,' he said with polite coldness and turned to leave.