Page 8 of Love with a Notorious Rake

Aidan finally looked at her, for he hadn’t given her anything more than a cursory glance since he arrived for dinner. His glaring eyes held a seething anger. “You presume to know me?”

She met his annoyed gaze, not intimidated by him in the least. “Yes, I do. Better, perhaps, than you know yourself.”

“You do not know me at all,” Aidan replied, his voice tight.

“Cristyn,” her father said sternly. “Enough.”

Suitably admonished, she looked down at her plate of food. Obviously still hurt and angry from their afternoon walk, she was allowing her emotions to run amuck, causing her to act inappropriately. The room was quiet for several minutes; the only sound was utensils clattering against stoneware plates. She picked up her fork and poked at the carrots, her appetite all but gone. Blast it! She must gain control, but inside she was in turmoil.

“I’ve been thinking, Doctor, and believe it best I depart before the end of this week,” Aidan declared.

Cristyn’s turmoil escalated at his statement. He couldn’t wait to get away from her. It stung, and her heart ached at his coolly spoken words.

“Won’t it take time to send word to your family to dispatch the carriage?” her father asked.

“I’ve decided to find a serviceable horse. I have funds. But it will mean leaving my trunk here until I can send someone to fetch it.”

“Of course. But we should discuss this further, in a private session.”

Away from her. Frustrated at both men and their secret conversations, Cristyn blurted, “And where is your home in Kent, exactly, Mr. Black?” She was going to get answers to a few of her questions before he departed. To the devil with proprieties and rules.

Aidan shrugged. “What does it matter?”

“Is it a government secret?” she demanded.

“No. My family home is not far from Sevenoaks. Do you know it?”

“Hardly, but I can find it on a map, I’m sure.” Cristyn popped a few buttered carrots in her mouth and chewed, watching Aidan closely. “And what does your family do, Mr. Black? Do you have an occupation?”

“You mean besides dissipation and indulgence? Alas, I am a wastrel. A disappointment to my family and, it turns out, to myself,” Aidan replied with annoyance.

“Cris,” her father began, but this time, she ignored him.

“As for my family,” Aidan continued, also ignoring her father, “we breed horses. It is a lucrative enterprise. Perhaps you wish to know how lucrative?” he sneered.

“And what if I do?” Cristyn snapped. The conversation was quickly veering into an argument, emotions heightened on both sides. You could carve the tension with a knife. Dismissing it, she plundered forward. “But then, you are far above us, and no doubt find such conversation about money crass and tedious. I’m sure you find most subjects tedious, as well as those below you in social ranking, whatever that ranking is.”

Her father sucked air through his teeth, shocked at her rude words.

Aidan’s mouth quirked, but his eyes narrowed in irritation. “Well, I am certainly finding you tedious at the moment.”

“Cristyn, Aidan, perhaps we should—”

“It is entirely mutual. Not used to a woman speaking her mind, I’ll be bound. By all means, return home to your horse stables and find a biddable young lady who will simper and acquiesce to your many whims.” She slammed her knife and fork on the table and pushed away her half-eaten meal, which sat like a lump in her stomach, churning and grinding and causing a wave of nausea to pass through her. “Someday, you will be sorry that you denied what’s between us.”

“Cristyn!” her father cried.

“No, Dad, I will not stay quiet. The first time that I’ve given my heart…” The words died in her throat. What had she done? Her father was mortified. Aidan was clearly incensed, but heat shimmered in his half-lidded eyes. It was all too much. Cristyn stood, damned if she would apologize. The sentiments she had expressed were honest and true. “If you will excuse me. I’ve had enough.” Enough of the meal. Enough of feeling lost in inestimable emotions she could not name. Enough of Aidan.

She marched from the room, then broke into a dash until her bedroom, where she slammed the door hard enough that the pictures on the wall rattled. With a slide of the lock, her hands flew to her flushed cheeks. She had made a fool of herself.

Never again.

* * * *

Aidan watched her flounce from the room. Hell, she was magnificent. Never had a woman spoken to him in such a way. Leave it to him to imagine all that powerful fervor unleashed in his bed. His angel was a passionate creature. God, to have Cristyn writhe in his arms while he plunged in and out of her, bringing her to an earth-shattering climax. He was sorely tempted to follow her and kiss her senseless.

“I must apologize—” Bevan began.