Felicity’s eyes flew open, but her body continued to throb, her heart to pound a fierce rhythm within her chest, as if he had not uttered that one dismissive word.
What on earth had just happened? One moment she had been telling herself she never wanted to see this man again, the next he was taking her, quickly and passionately, to heights of ecstasy that had left her gasping in its wake.
And more than that, she would have willingly given herself to him completely and let him ruin her reputation. And yet he had stopped. Why? There was no denying he wanted her. The proof of that was still evident.
So what sort of game was he playing with her? Was he so determined to taunt her even further that he would kiss her, caress her, give her a taste of what she could never have, then once again withdraw his affections from her?
A flood of humiliation sweeping over her, she forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly to calm her still-pounding heart and body.
‘Well, that was just like last season, wasn’t it?’ she said, with a laugh that sounded false in her ears.
He stood up straighter, his jaw suddenly tight, his body rigid, and glared at her, as if seeing no humour in her attempt to save her dignity with flippancy.
‘Not exactly. Last year I was a different man.’
That was something he did not need to tell her. He was no longer that loving, gentle young man she had known. Now there was something fierce about him, something angry, something dark. But why was he angry with her? She had done nothing wrong. She was the one who should be angry with him. And she was angry. She should not have let that kiss make her forget her fury at how he had suddenly left her, or the misery she had suffered through those long lonely months when he had been carousing on the Continent.
‘That is evident,’ she replied in her new-found haughty voice. ‘But are you really such a different man, or are you now showing your true colours? Last season you kissed me, caressed me, made me fall in love with you, then abandoned me and ran off to the Continent without saying goodbye, without telling me why.’
She had finally said what she wanted to say the moment she had seen him enter the ballroom. ‘Was the man who frequented gambling dens and low haunts on the Continent the real man? Was the man I saw last year just a facade you adopted to fool silly debutantes such as me into thinking you were a better man?’
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