Karen Robards - Amanda Rose

“You are an arrogant, pig-headed swine,” she began severely, then smiled as his eyes narrowed. “But I forgive you.”

Amanda moved her legs aside and patted the end of the chaise longue in silent invitation. Matt came around the chair and sat down, lifting her feet cozily into his lap. “I don’t deserve you, Amanda,” he said, his tone remorseful as he released her hand.

“No, you don’t,” she agreed with a smile. He smiled back, his eyes laughing.

“You don’t have to agree with me,” he complained.

“I’m a dreadful liar,” Amanda reminded him demurely, and he laughed.

“Let me make it up to you, Amanda,” he said, catching her hand and holding it tightly. “Marry me.”

Amanda’s eyes were as big as saucers as she searched his face. He was smiling at her, but his eyes were grave. He looked so handsome, so dear, that he caught at her heart. The one thing she had wanted more than anything else on earth had finally happened: he was asking her to be his wife. And she wanted to. She wanted to love him and have him love her for the rest of their lives. Then a tiny frown pleated her brow. He had said nothing of love-perhaps he was shy. At the thought of Matt being shy the frown vanished and she smiled deliciously. She would give him plenty of encouragement…

“You’re looking at me as a hungry little cat looks at a canary.” His smile widened. “Won’t you give me your answer, Amanda?”

The tenderness of his voice was almost her undoing. She battled an urge to fling her arms around his neck and cry her acceptance to the world. But there was something she wanted to hear first.

“Why, Matt?” She looked at him through the veil of her lashes.

“Why?”

“Why do you want to marry me?”

His lips twisted, and her heart began to pound with hope. Now he would say it…

“It’s the least I can do, under the circumstances-and as an amende honorable, if you will. What your brother said-though it enraged me at the time-is true. I have ruined your reputation, and with it your chances for the sort of life that is your due. I can’t give it back to you, but I can give you the protection of my name. And I’ll take good care of you, Amanda. You’ll never want for anything as my wife.”

Amanda felt deflated, like a punctured balloon. He would marry her only to salve his conscience. She had known almost from the beginning that he was an honorable man. Why, then, did she hurt so much now? She ought to have known that would be his reason for proposing. Perhaps if she had not raised her hopes, she would not now feel as if she wanted to cry and never stop.

“Well?” he demanded, impatient. From the look on his face, he was in no doubt of her answer. And she supposed he had every right to look that way. Under the circumstances, she was a fool not to jump at the chance.

“No,” she said, lifting her legs from his lap and standing up. He stood, too, his face a study in contradictory emotions, and caught at her arm.

“What do you mean, no?” He sounded dumbfounded.

“No, I won’t marry you.” She tried to pull her arm from his grasp, but he refused to release her, his long fingers biting hurtfully into the soft flesh.

“Why the hell not?” He was both angry and affronted. Amanda reflected bitterly that it must be quite a jolt to nerve oneself to make a proposal of marriage that one really did not want to make and then have it thrown back in one’s face. The sense of relief, she suspected, would come later.

“Because, to be frank, it doesn’t sound like a very good proposition.” Suddenly she was consumed with a need to hurt him as he had hurt her. Not that she could, of course. Her ridiculous love for him gave him an unfair advantage. But she could prick his vanity. She managed a silvery laugh. “You’re very attractive, of course, but… marriage. When I marry, it will have to be to someone of my own social class. If I didn’t, if I married someone like you, my father and all my ancestors would turn in their graves.”

His face blanched. “Why, you snobbish little…”

Amanda smiled tauntingly as she watched him suffer. Not that anything could make up for the pain in her own heart.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” she said very gently. “But I felt that it was best to be honest.” He stared at her as she gently disengaged her arm from his slackened fingers. Then she turned on her heel and left the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He was behind her, and he sounded ugly. Amanda smiled. She hoped that his damaged pride was paining him as much as her damaged heart was her. She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, surprised to find him so close.

“To my room. To pack. I’m leaving, Matt.” They were in the front hall by then, and Amanda headed for the beautiful carved mahogany staircase that lifted gracefully into the upper regions of the house.

“The hell you are.” He caught her arm again, swinging her around. Amanda glared at him, feeling fury flare and die as she saw his face. He looked half out of his mind. His mouth was contorted with rage, and his eyes glittered wildly down at her.

“You can’t stop me, Matt,” she said almost gently. He let out his breath with a sound like a snarl.

“Can’t I, my fine lady?” He was looking at her as if he hated her. “We’ll see about that.”

Amanda turned away without replying, jerking her arm from his grasp. Behind her she heard him swear violently. Glancing back over her shoulder, her eyes widened as she saw that he was coming up the stairs after her, vengeance in every line of that dark face.

He caught her on the second-floor landing. Breathless, Amanda had picked up her skirts to run, hoping to reach her bedroom so that she could bolt her door against him. She didn’t think that he would go so far as to burst through a locked door, not with the servants in the house. But Matt was too fast for her. Even as she had gathered up her skirts his hand closed over her arm roughly, swinging her around to face him. Amanda looked up at him, her heart pounding wildly at what she saw in his face. Then he bent and scooped her up in his arms, holding her struggling body hard against his chest as he strode down the hallway.

“Let me go, Matt.” Suddenly he terrified her, this tall, dark man who was both lover and stranger. He looked like a man who had reached the end of his rope; his silver eyes burned with an unholy fire, and that handsome mouth was set in a harsh, almost cruel line.

“Like hell.” He looked down at her as he spoke. One corner of his mouth twisted up in a travesty of a smile, frightening Amanda almost more than the glitter of his eyes. Matt had shed his civilized skin like a snake, and she was left facing a primitive, untamed male.

“Matt…” She tried again to make him see reason, only to fall silent as he snarled.

“You always say my name so prettily.” His tone was savage. “Do you do it deliberately, I wonder, or is it your feminine camouflage that gives you a voice like silk when underneath you’re as hard and cold as a knife?”

“Matt, this won’t stop me from leaving.” She hoped to penetrate the angry bitterness that flamed so furiously in his eyes. As soon as she spoke, she knew that reminding him of her plans was a mistake. His jaw clenched, and his arms tightened around her, crushing her against his chest.

“Won’t it?” He smiled down at her. Amanda shrank from the violence she saw in that smile. “I think it will. You’re mine, Amanda, and this time I won’t let you out of my bed until you know it, too. You belong to me-I’ll never let you go.”

“You’re insane. ”

“If I am, you’re the cause.”