My Wicked Marquess by Gaelen Foley

Author:Gaelen Foley
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2005-07-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Max trusted he had laid her fears to rest. At least that was what he wanted to believe a few days later as his ebony coach rumbled on behind the four black horses, speeding down to nearby Richmond-upon-Thames for the End of Summer Ball. Inside the coach, a jovial spirit reigned as Rohan and Jordan and he passed around a bottle of whisky, imbibing freely ahead of the night’s festivities.

His friends were conversing irreverently on which women they might amuse themselves in pursuing tonight, but Max found himself yet again in a state of distraction over Daphne. Lord, what had this girl done to him? He glanced out the carriage window at the splendor of the evening’s sunset, unfurled over a wide expanse of countryside.

Dramatic, billowing clouds filled the west, blazing pink and orange on their undersides, lit from below by the September sun slipping over the horizon. The tops and sides of the clouds were smoky lavender, with patches of the fading day’s light blue still visible between them. In the east, a full moon rose, wearing a misty gold halo, and the night it gathered round it like a cloak turned from royal blue to dark indigo, spangled with stars.

The trees crowded out the view again as Jordan handed him the bottle. Max accepted it with a wry smile, thought of Daphne again, and took a hearty swig.

Still, the liquor could not chase away the nagging feeling that instead of getting things under control with her in the parlor, maybe he had only made matters worse. Doubt was not the only ailment plaguing him tonight. Along with a high degree of sexual frustration, he was still secretly hurt by her attempt to get rid of him.

He really did not understand her continued resistance.

In what way did she find him lacking? Hell, he had started off barely caring whom he married, but now somehow she had him by the throat.

He had no idea why he was trying so hard, or when he’d become so determined that only she would do. Which was why he was still shocked by her attempted rejection.

He was used to getting what he wanted, and could in all modesty say that women did not usually turn their noses up at him. On those rare occasions when it did occur, he usually just laughed. He never particularly cared.

But this was different somehow. Very, very different. This one got to him because it stirred long-buried fears deep in the core of him that maybe he was not worthy of love.

All Max knew was that it was one thing to be rejected in chameleon mode. That, he did not take personally. But to try, to start, by God, to offer her his real self, and have the inner man rejected, that struck a nerve. What in the hell was it going to take for her to accept him?

When would he ever be enough?

He was already as rich as a king and higher placed in the order of precedence than ninety-nine percent of the population.

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