She whirled on him, her face flushed with anger. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss away the harsh lines that creased her eyes as she glared at him. He refrained from the impulse, but only because he wasn’t sure she wasn’t carrying some sort of weaponry on her. God’s breath, the way those breeches hugged her curves, Deerhurst was surprised he hadn’t fallen to his knees when he first saw her on the stairwell dressed in such a provocative outfit.
Of all the outfits they could have chosen—what the devil were they thinking dressing like this? How many men must have ogled her? A spark of annoyance filled his heart. Not just because of jealousy, but because he had no right to be jealous.
“What’s the meaning of this, Deerhurst? I told you I never wanted to speak to you again! The least you could do is respect my wishes as you certainly cannot respect anything else!”
“I’ll respect any of your wishes after you hear what I have to say.”
“And what is that?”
Deerhurst clenched his fists. He should have prepared a proper speech, but he had never been good with flowery words. He’d thought he was doing the right thing by giving her space, yet it turned out just to be yet another one of his many mistakes. He shouldn’t have let her storm out of his study that day. He should have told her clearly... he should have told her sooner...
“I love you.”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“I love you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I should have confessed to you the night we spent together.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I should never have let you leave my house without telling you that I love you.”
“But not that you lied? What kind of love is that, Deerhurst? I fell for your lies once. I won’t fall for them again.”
“I never lied to you, Phaedra.”
She snorted. “There are many forms of lies, Deerhurst. Skirting around the truth is one of them, keeping the truth from me is another.”
Deerhurst bit back a curse. “After all we’ve been through, you find me to be that unforgivable?”
“You made a fool of me.”
“Is this what it’s about? Pride? Then you don’t feel any affection for me at all?”
“What I feel for you is irrelevant.”
“How the bloody hell is it irrelevant?” Deerhurst wanted to punch his fist into a wall. How could one woman be so stubborn? He rubbed his temples. “Distributing copies of the book doesn’t just get back at the men who issued those wagers. It will also rile up the women.”
She pursed her lips. “That is the point.”
“But what about after the point? What happens when the men tire of the women’s rebuke? Or haven’t you thought that far?”
“It doesn’t matter what happens in the future. What matters is that women are madeawareand that the men in all the clubs understand there are consequences for their behavior as well.”
“And what about the consequences of tonight?”
“I am prepared to accept them.” Her gaze met his. “Why are men the only ones who can play dirty? Why should we simply accept injustice just because we are told we are the lesser sex?”
“I don’t believe you are the lesser sex, love,” Deerhurst said in a low voice. If he could go back in time and rip up that list, he would. “I believe you are the strongest.”
She shook her head furiously. “You are merely saying that out of guilt.”
He took a step closer to her. “Guilt? Yes, I feel guilt, love. I also feel regret. And pain. I broke something beautiful. Still, I’m a beast enough to ask for forgiveness. A second chance.”
She retreated a step, pointing her cane at him to keep the distance. “Stop.”
He didn’t. Couldn’t. “You’re the bravest person I know, Phaedra, and at times I can’t keep my footing for what I feel for you. I can’t quite catch my breath—it belongs to you.”
He grabbed the cane and pulled her toward him. She gasped as he held her in his arms. He needed to get through to her. Needed her to believe him. “I love you. There will never be another woman for me but you. You must know that.”
