AWAKENING THE SHY MISS (10 page)

Chapter Thirteen

H
e had her reeling. He could see it in her eyes, could feel it in the reluctance of her hand to let him go; not because she was a virgin, but because he’d got inside her defences, subconscious as he expected they were, and now she didn’t know what to do.
He
was pursuing
her
, not the other way around where the pursuit had always been her choice—a choice she used to chase the unattainable—like Andrew Adair who wouldn’t truly notice her in a proverbial million years. Such a pursuit carried no risk, the outcome assured before the pursuit even started. Did she understand that about herself yet? That she set herself up for failure? No wonder she was reeling now. She had found success with him.

To be honest, she was not the only one reeling. He reached for his trousers, fumbling for the handkerchief he carried, and handed it to her. It was the first of the little steps they would take to restore their afternoon to normalcy. She would wipe off her hands, get up, get dressed and he would do the same. Outward order sustained.

But she would carry her inner turmoil with her as would he. He was quite undone by this unexpected turn of events. The only edge he had on her was that he understood his defences, understood the reasons he was so undone. His defences were not that different than hers. The women he allowed himself access to required nothing of him beyond the physical. They kept his heart safe. They did not require his feelings to be engaged. It was the very reason he sought them out. They didn’t disrupt his carefully laid plans, nor did they threaten the armour he’d built around his heart.

Evie would not settle for such a man and he didn’t want her to. She needed a man who could give her both his body and his soul. He could no more be that man than Andrew could. He could give her no more than a few moments and hope those moments would transform her, help her to see herself as a person of value, who didn’t need to be discreet, who didn’t need to hide.

This afternoon hadn’t been for him, it had been for her. At least that’s what he told himself. It was the only way he could justify it. If there was one thing he wanted to give Evie, it was to erase the self-doubt, to prove to her that she was desire personified, a flame of passion come to life. That was something he had to
show
her, something he could do for
her
. For a few moments, he could allow himself to set aside his own burdens and limitations for the greater good of Evie Milham without threatening the world he’d created for himself.

He watched Evie rise, getting one last glimpse of the russet triangle between her legs, the pink tips of her breasts. She gathered the folds of her robe about her, suddenly conscious of how revealed she’d been. ‘You don’t have to cover up, not for me, Evie,’ he admonished. ‘You’re beautiful.’ After all they’d done this afternoon, those words were the ones that
made her blush.

‘You still don’t believe me?’ He rose too, deliberately letting his own robe gape, exposing his nude body in all of its natural glory. He didn’t dare touch her for fear of starting something that would take them past the middle ground of passion where they’d played this afternoon. Today’s play had been safe, physically. It had ruined no one.

Evie managed a half-smile. ‘Is that what this was? An exercise in boosting a poor girl’s confidence?’

That was when he knew he’d lied to himself. He could not admit to it because it simply wasn’t true. He’d done this for him because he wanted her, beautiful, intelligent, hidden, Evie Milham. ‘Is that what you think?’

Evie gave a sad shrug. ‘It’s the only explanation that makes any sense.’ She gestured towards him, her hand motioning the length of his body. ‘Whatever would you be doing with me? Just look at you. You’re handsome and well-travelled, and perfect in every way possible.’

‘And you’re not?’ Dimitri countered. He was suddenly not interested in getting dressed, not interested in restoring normalcy. Normalcy was his enemy. If they put on their clothes, they’d be burying more than the afternoon, more than their nakedness. He reached for her hands. ‘Don’t you think I ask myself those same questions? You have this fabulous life with a family you’re close to in a beautiful part of the world and a chance to do the things you love, your sewing, your drawing, your weaving. With all that at your disposal, what are you doing with me?’

He watched the irony of that statement reflect in her eyes as she puzzled out the answer. ‘You have everything, and I have nothing to offer you, Evie. All I can do is take from you and leave you.’ He dropped his voice, recognising the hard truth of that. For all that he wanted to give her, he could give her very little beyond memories when it came down to it. He could tell her this much at least. ‘I’ll be leaving, going home.’

‘I know,’ was all Evie said, her blue eyes solemn as they held his, her fingers tightening in his as if she could keep him a little longer.

She didn’t know the reasons for it, though. He wouldn’t tell her today. Telling her the rest made him feel like a cad and he wasn’t ready to have her hate him yet. He’d save the last for when he truly needed it to drive a final wedge between them so that she’d let him go if she hadn’t done so already.

‘It’s not my choice to make.’ He shook his head. He wanted her to understand leaving was inevitable. He could do that much at least without incriminating himself. ‘Kubanian law requires that all royal males return at the age of thirty to serve the kingdom in whatever capacity the kingdom feels they are best suited to serve.’ In his case, it was with his body. He would marry Ayfer Hanimsultan, breed beautiful sons and keep the border peace. He was a cad of the lowest order to think he could set that aside for an afternoon and seduce Evie. He should apologise, but he wasn’t sorry, not for a moment of it, and that was very hard indeed to reconcile.

‘What happens if you don’t go back?’ Evie asked softly.

‘The unthinkable.’ His own voice was low, as if uttering the words was a sacrilege. He hardly dared to let himself imagine such a scenario, let alone put it into words. But with Evie’s blue eyes holding him, Evie’s hands touching him, the remembrance of pleasure still lingering in the air between them, he
wanted
to tell her. ‘I would be renounced. I would lose my title, my wealth, my lands.’ None of which mattered nearly as much as the other items at stake. ‘I have a sister...’

Oh, God. It was horrible and exquisite all at once. They were sinking in single accord to the silk pillows, to their knees, their hands gripped in the other’s grasp and she could not look away for fear he’d stop talking. She had become his lifeline and in these moments, his soul was open as his tale poured out: the Kubanian requirement to return home, to serve the country, the consequences for failing to comply—his young sister forced to wed a border sultan’s son, taken from her home to never return, to live in a foreign culture with a foreign faith to secure the country if he didn’t come home.

His sister needn’t worry. Dimitri would not fail her. Evie swallowed, understanding what that meant. Saving his sister meant she would lose him definitively. She’d never had any hope of keeping him, hadn’t even aspired to letting her thoughts follow that path. So why did the thought of him going leave an ache in her stomach?

‘So you see what a roué I’ve been. I’ve been the worst of men when it comes to you, Evie. I cannot stay, I cannot promise you anything and yet I put you in a compromising position today. A gentleman would never have behaved as I did, never have encouraged what I did.’

Evie shook her head. ‘Do you want to apologise for what we did? Do you regret the pleasure?’ The bold words came surprisingly easy, but she’d become a bold woman this afternoon, sitting with a man in nothing but a borrowed robe, engaging in giving and receiving intimacy beyond her imagining. A man had put his head between her legs, his tongue up against her most private places, she’d put her hand about his member and stroked it. ‘Or do you only regret the circumstances in which they occurred?’ Did she really want to know the answer? She would die if he regretted what they had done, what they had found.

‘I do not regret you, Evie. I will never apologise for what we did. But it has created a circumstance in which I don’t know what comes next. We’re both wondering what happens now and I don’t know, Evie.’

But she did. She knew what came next. He
had
to go home. They couldn’t change that. She didn’t
want
to change that. There was too much depending on his return. She would never want to be responsible for any single consequence he’d enumerated today. His commitment to family, to country, was beyond admirable. They both knew
what came next, it just didn’t,
couldn’t
, include her. And that wouldn’t change until she did. She could not have him for the long term, but what about for the present? Was that what she wanted? It would need some thinking about.

Outside, a horse harness jangled and Evie leapt up in a panic. ‘It’s Andrew come to pick me up!’ Was it that late already? Here she was in a man’s robe, her hair undone. A hand flew to her cheek. Did she look like she’d been pleasured?

Dimitri was on his feet, all calm reassurance in the wake of her urgency. ‘You have a dress here from the night we had dinner.’ He gestured to his private chambers. ‘Go, get changed. I’ll stall him and I’ll explain we were caught in the deluge.’ She flashed him a grateful smile. They were suddenly co-conspirators in this little deception. It occurred to her as she checked her appearance in Dimitri’s mirror that perhaps she ought to feel guilty about what had happened, that she should feel as though she’d cheated on Andrew. But she couldn’t summon an ounce of remorse, and why should she? Andrew had done nothing over the past three years but drive her home a handful of days. Anything that had been done, had been done on her part and most of that had been only in her head.

She paused and studied her reflection. Who was this woman in the mirror who shared intimacies with a foreign prince, this woman who listened to his confession, this woman who had thrown over a long-standing infatuation for one man after twenty-one days with another? She didn’t know that woman. Or perhaps that woman had been there all along and only just now dared to show her face. Had she really changed? Or had she simply fixed her attentions on Dimitri because the situation with Andrew had become possible instead of impossible? May had once accused her of such behaviour, of pursuing Andrew because there was no hope of catching him. Impossibility kept her safe, it made neither rejection nor acceptance likely.

Evie pushed the notion aside and attacked her hair with the brush. She didn’t want to believe she was capable of using Dimitri as a replacement for Andrew. Such a tactic made her no different than many of the other catty girls of the
ton
, Cecilia Northam, in particular. Cecilia was a chief antagonist of the Left Behind Girls Club, although Claire had temporarily routed her. No, she wasn’t using Dimitri as a buffer against reality. She liked him too much for that. Which begged the question, what was she doing with him? What did she hope for, especially knowing what she knew now?

Beyond the curtain she heard Andrew’s voice, slightly higher, and louder than Dimitri’s. She had to hurry before Andrew had too much time to think through what she was doing here. Perhaps she should try harder with Andrew, make sure she wasn’t displacing her affections. After all, it would be she and Andrew who would be left here when Dimitri went. She smoothed her dress and stepped from behind the curtain.

‘Andrew, I wasn’t sure you’d come.’ She smiled as if she was glad to see him, casting a quick glance in Dimitri’s direction to make sure he’d had the foresight to at least tie his robe.

‘Of course, I came when I discovered you hadn’t returned home. Besides, I wanted to tell Dimitri my news. Lord Belvoir and some of his cronies are coming over the day after next to see the site—well, primarily to see the artefacts, they’re the real draw. Belvoir’s bringing his daughter, the two of you know each other, I believe.’ Andrew grinned, pleased with himself, oblivious to how poorly the news sat with her.

Evie’s stomach went cold. Lord Belvoir. Cecilia Northam’s father. The one thing she liked about the countryside was that Cecilia wasn’t in it. In Little Westbury, she was safe from Cecilia’s cutting remarks and false sugar. Now, Andrew had managed to bring her most-feared adversary here at a time when she didn’t have Bea and May or Claire beside her. She glanced at Dimitri and understood immediately why Cecilia would lower herself to come to the country. Cecilia, reigning Diamond of the First Water for three Seasons running, wouldn’t miss a chance to align herself with a prince.

‘Well, Evie, let’s get you away.’ Andrew coughed in the silence, his gaze drifting between her and Dimitri. ‘It’s hardly seemly for you to be in the company of a barely dressed man.’ There was a scold in that for Dimitri, she noted. Andrew did not approve. That was fine with her. He could disapprove all he liked as long as he didn’t suspect anything.

And that was that. By the time she was settled beside Andrew on his curricle seat, the afternoon had returned to normal. What had happened between her and Dimitri in the pavilion seemed like something out of time, the disaster of the charging horse seemed far away. Even the weather conspired to reinforce the fantasy of it all. The dark skies had cleared to blue, the rain had stopped, leaving behind a few puddles and a rainbow. The wind was gone and it was a summer day once more. Dimitri and his crew were already at work repairing the rampaged catalogue tent and here she was seated beside Andrew, travelling home as she did every day. Normal hurt.

‘Is everything all right, Evie? You’re quiet today.’ Andrew tooled the horses through a muddy curve in the road.

She was always quiet. There was nothing new in that except that he chose today to notice, the one day when she’d rather he’d not. ‘I’m fine.’ Lie. She wasn’t fine, she was changed. Something had happened today and she suspected Andrew thought so too.
He’d
been quiet, which was probably what he was noticing more than her silence. Usually, their rides were filled with his talk of the day and all the things he’d accomplished.