Still in My Heart Read Online Free PDF Page A

met Lord Burrough's oldest daughter, Eleanor, and he began to entertain the notion that there might be such a thing as a "happy" marriage and that he just might find that kind of friendship, support, and passion with her.
     
     
But then he had gone and ruined that, well and good. And now she looked at him as though he were something she had just scraped off the bottom of her slipper. But there was something else in her gaze— a touch of wariness that told him his cause was not lost yet.
     
     
This uncomfortable silence had dragged on long enough. One of them had to speak.
     
     
"Hello, Eleanor." He winced. That hopeful whining wasn't really his voice, was it?
     
     
For a split second, her cool mask of composure and contempt cracked, and she looked almost as vulnerable as he felt. Perhaps her forgiveness was too much to ask. Until now he had only thought of what this opportunity might afford him, not what discomfort it might offer her. If she still harbored ill feelings toward him for what he had done years ago, then perhaps her feelings for him had been deeper than he first thought. Perhaps he had wounded her so greatly, she would never find the ability to forgive him. He had bedded her sister after pledging her his troth. Were the situation reversed, he didn't know if he could be man enough to forgive such a betrayal, no matter what the circumstances.
     
     
"Lord Creed." Her voice was huskier than he remembered, and her formality brought the sting of shame to his cheeks. And yet…
     
     
If she was still so bitter after all these years, perhaps there was a chance she too retained some secret regard for him. Perhaps he still had a hold on her heart as she did on his. They were connected in some twisted way— she as the one who rejected him and he as the one who broke her heart. Too many unanswered questions, too many regrets and doubts. Youthful hope combined with youthful heartbreak.
     
     
And then there was the fact that she was a woman and he a man, and all he had to do was look at her to know he wanted her, and his past hope of making her his viscountess had nothing to do with it.
     
     
"Lord Creed," the sister behind Eleanor began in a musical, yet firm voice, "We were not expecting you."
     
     
He smiled at that blatantly polite understatement. "I apologize for any… inconvenience my arrival proposes." That was an understatement in itself. So what transpired now? Was he to be tossed out without so much as a chance to explain himself to this woman, this phantom of his heart who had become an obsession? He could not go back to wondering what might have been, not after coming this far.
     
     
He would not go back. He would ask for her forgiveness as they dragged him out the door. Whatever happened after that didn't matter.
     
     
Eleanor's gaze remained locked with his. Neither of them had looked away since he entered the room. How much longer could they go on simply staring at each other before one of them cracked?
     
     
"Would you mind leaving us?" Eleanor asked. For a moment Brahm thought she had directed the question at him, as her gaze never wavered. Only the warmth in her tone told him otherwise.
     
     
Her sisters— three blue-eyed women wearing the same expression of surprise— turned to her. Eleanor's attention remained where it was. It was all Brahm could do not to lose himself in her eyes. They were pools of cornflower blue that reflected so much— more than he wanted to see. Eleanor's eyes weren't just windows, they were mirrors. Once he had seen himself as she had, and it had pleased him. Now he was glad she was so far away so he couldn't see himself as she did.
     
     
"No," Muriel replied resolutely. "We are not leaving."
     
     
The soft-voiced sister— Arabella, if memory served— placed a hand on Muriel's arm, but her gaze went to Brahm. He was dimly aware of her scrutiny out of the corner of his eye, as he was determined not to be the one to break the contact between himself