Page 63 of Along Came a Rogue

“I’m fine.” But instead of stepping into his arms as he wanted, she moved away.

He froze. A warning prickled low in his gut. No, she wasn’t fine. Not at all.

She averted her eyes as she took another step away from him, and he saw her hands tremble before she twisted them into her skirt to hide them. She was nervous, anxious—

Damnation! His jaw clenched with anger. If Thomas had told her of his proposal plans, he’d pummel him senseless for it, bullet wound or not.

When she moved back yet again as he stepped forward, he halted. His eyes narrowed on her. Bewilderment instantly replaced the anger. Had he completely misread her? From the way she’d clung to him yesterday when he had to leave her, as if her heart would break to part from him, he’d been certain she’d sparked an affection for him. Yet he didn’t dare hope for love. That would make this moment far too easy, and he’d never been a friend to fate.

But to behave like this now, as if she’d flee from the room—and him—if she could sidle herself closer to the door…

“Did Thomas speak to you?” he half demanded, not knowing whether to be furious at Thomas or worried about her.

She shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet about my marriage,” she answered quietly, her gaze pinned to the floor. As if she couldn’t find the courage to look at him. “With everything else he’s had to deal with, I thought it best to wait a few days.”

He clenched his jaw. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh,” she breathed out knowingly, still not daring to look at him. “That.”

Yes, that. Even now ire at her brother prickled in his chest, right beneath the ring box.

“Of course I haven’t,” she blurted out, blushing scarlet with embarrassment. “But I think he suspects what happened between us.”

He gaped at her. She thought he meant about the journey from Yorkshire. She didn’t know about the wedding proposal, Thomas hadn’t told her—so why on earth was she acting so strangely?

Then her eyes raised slowly, and he heard her catch her breath when she noticed the ugly bruise at his eye. Her mouth fell open as she stated breathlessly, “But you had a talk with him about it.”

“Yes.”

She bit her bottom lip, her concern for him warming his chest. “He hit you?”

“Oh yes.” He crooked a chagrined brow.

“I’m so sorry.”

With an expression of concern darkening her face, she began to reach a trembling hand toward the bruise, then stopped suddenly and pulled back. As if she’d momentarily forgotten herself. Or was afraid of being burned.

She cleared her throat, her gaze returning to the floor, but not before he saw a flash of pain in her eyes. And guilt. The niggling voice inside his head that she wasn’t behaving like herself grew louder.

“Have you seen him yet today?” She nervously twisted her hand in her skirt to prevent herself from reaching for him again. “I’m certain he’ll apologize.”

He drew a deep breath, determined to ignore whatever was upsetting her—for now—and get through the proposal. Then, once he was certain of his place in her life, he would take her away from here and whatever had happened to make her so nervous, so…pained. “I’m not here to see Thomas.” His gut flip-flopped with fresh nervousness. Dear Lord—he was about to propose, something he’d never thought he’d do. “I’m here to see you.”

“Oh?” She’d forced a casual lightness into her voice, but nothing about the nervous way she stood there, trembling and pale, was at all casual. “I’m fine. A good night’s sleep and some of Cook’s delicious food did me wonders.”

His eyes narrowed, the bewilderment and nervousness pulsing through him turning to irritation. She was lying. Again.

“You were right.” She forced an unsteady smile. “Being home with my family is where I belong.”

Good Lord, was she lying! But why?

He took a slow step toward her, tamping down his growing frustration. “I came to a decision yesterday,” he told her calmly, despite the hard tattoo of his pulse, “and I wanted to speak with you about it.”

She shifted away to move behind a chair, placing the piece of furniture between them as if she were afraid he might pounce on her. He smiled at that, knowing he just might.

“I’m glad you came by.” Yet her voice trembled with anything but gladness at seeing him. “I never had the chance to properly thank you for—”

“Emily,” he interrupted quietly. The time for games was over. “Marry me.”