and stare at him…
Only she feared if she looked at him as he did her, he’d not tremble as she had. He’d merely draw back the blankets and invite her in.
She had an unsettling feeling she’d eagerly accept the invitation.
She spun on her bare heel and hurried soundlessly down the stairs, one hand gliding over the banister while the other held the lamp aloft to guide her steps. The house was eerily quiet, which made the rampaging storm seem that much more sinister.
And cold, the house was so cold. As though it had never known warmth. As though it had never known love. She couldn’t imagine delightful laughter echoing along the hallways. She imagined this house always as quiet, as ominous as it was now.
She staggered to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, considered returning to the sanctuary of her room, but she was so tired of retreating, and she’d been retreating ever since Wesley had been torn from her life.
Deep within her heart, she knew her parents had done what they’d thought was best for her. They loved her. She’d never questioned that. But how was it that they failed to understand her needs when it came to men? All she wanted was to be adored—for herself. Perhaps it made her shallow, selfish but she knew young men had always looked at her calculatingly…all except Wesley, who’d not even realized she was wealthy until he’d proposed.
Wesley had wanted her, not her money. The same certainly couldn’t be said of Falconridge