Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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The following Sunday, Lucian was positively anxious to see her again. It had barely been three days, and he was already feeling what he could only describe as withdrawal. After their night, in her bed, he had tried to resume his life, as if nothing had happened, but his mind clearly had other plans.
He had had to fight the urge to go to her one evening, joining her in her room, making love to her, drawing out more moans, more pleasure, more lust... Only the knowledge that she was too sore for another of his amorous attentions had stopped him. Not even the possibility of getting caught, or because of honor. No, knowing he would hurt her was the only reason why he hadn't given in to his desires.
Now, it had been about seventy-two hours. Was it enough to have her again? Probably not, she had seemed pretty hurt. Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Lucian looked around once more.
"Are you all right?" John asked beside him in a low voice. The both of them were with a group of old friends, and Lucian hadn't been paying much attention to the conversation.
"Yes, I am fine."
"Has the war made you on edge? Between tonight and your sudden disappearance from Beckman's party a few days ago, I swear, you are starting to worry me, Lucian."
"I'm fine. There's a habituation period is all. I'll be fine."
John nodded, not convinced, and turned again to the others. They were talking about a horse race, arguing about Which one to bet on. Lucian tried to participate, checking the entrance every few seconds to see if the Langstons had arrived. The discussion slowly shifted to war horses, and the men turned to Lucian, to know which breed was the most commonly used. Lucian explained the breed didn't really matter, that the height and weight of the animal were more important. He was about to add that Wellington favored horses that were over fifteen hands when he caught a glimpse of yellow in the corner of his eye.
He instantly turned to it, and there she was. Maeve was wearing the dress he had found her with two months ago, staring at the moon. She looked around, her neck stretched to see better, and when her eyes met his, she gave him a gorgeous smile. He was taken out of their moment when an elbow knocked him in the ribs.
"You were saying?" John insisted, making him realize he had stopped mid-sentence.
"I... hmm... My apologies, gentlemen, I need something to drink."
Without another word, Lucian left them, ignoring their surprised looks. Trying not to look too eager, he made his way to the refreshments, which were near Maeve's position. He ordered a glass of Whisky, and as it was handed to him, a familiar voice ordered a glass of port next to him. He turned and looked at her profile. She was trying to hold back a grin, and her amused mood was contagious.
"Lady Langston," he greeted her, smiling frankly.
"Lord Worthington. I hadn't seen you there."
"How have you been?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass.
