On the Way to the Wedding (Bridgertons 8) - Page 148

> She slipped up the back stairs, lest she come across any wandering guests, and with a sigh of relief, she stepped into her room and shut the door behind her.

She leaned her back against the door, slowly deflating until it felt like there was nothing left within her.

And she thought—Now I shall cry.

She wanted to. Truly, she did. She felt as if she’d been holding it inside for hours, just waiting for a private moment. But the tears would not come. She was too numb, too dazed by the events of the last twenty-four hours. And so she stood there, staring at her bed.

Remembering.

Dear heaven, had it been only twelve hours earlier that she had lain there, wrapped in his arms? It seemed like years. It was as if her life were now neatly divided in two, and she was most firmly in after.

She closed her eyes. Maybe if she didn’t see it, it would go away. Maybe if she—

“Lucy.”

She froze. Dear God, no.

“Lucy.”

Slowly, she opened her eyes. And whispered, “Gregory?”

He looked a mess, windblown and dirty as only a mad ride on horseback could do to a man. He must have sneaked in the same way he’d done the night before. He must have been waiting for her.

She opened her mouth, tried to speak.

“Lucy,” he said again, and his voice flowed through her, melted around her.

She swallowed. “Why are you here?”

He stepped toward her, and her heart just ached from it. His face was so handsome, and so dear, and so perfectly wonderfully familiar. She knew the slope of his cheeks, and the exact shade of his eyes, brownish near the iris, melting into green at the edge.

And his mouth—she knew that mouth, the look of it, the feel of it. She knew his smile, and she knew his frown, and she knew—

She knew far too much.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, the catch in her voice belying the stillness of her posture.

He took another step in her direction. There was no anger in his eyes, which she did not understand. But the way he was looking at her—it was hot, and it was possessive, and it was nothing a married woman should ever allow from a man who was not her husband.

“I had to know why,” he said. “I couldn’t let you go. Not until I knew why.”

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.”

Please don’t make me regret. Please don’t make me long and wish and wonder.

She hugged her arms to her chest, as if maybe…maybe she could squeeze so tight that she could pull herself inside out. And then she wouldn’t have to see, she wouldn’t have to hear. She could just be alone, and—

“Lucy—”

“Don’t,” she said again, sharply this time.

Don’t.

Don’t make me believe in love.

But he moved ever closer. Slowly, but without hesitation. “Lucy,” he said, his voice warm and full of purpose. “Just tell me why. That is all I ask. I will walk away and promise never to approach you again, but I must know why.”

She shook her head. “I can’t tell you.”

Tags: Julia Quinn Bridgertons Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024