The Devil's Web by Mary Balogh Page A

she heard herself say, “I wish you would not.”
    â€œAdore you?” he said. “But I do, you see.”
    â€œNo,” she said. “Propose to me so early in the evening. I did not expect it quite so soon. I like you very much, Jason, and greatly enjoy your company. Oh, dear, I had hoped to enjoy the dancing for the rest of the evening.”
    â€œI hate it,” he said, “when women tell me that they like me.”
    â€œYou would prefer me to say that I hate you?” she asked.
    â€œInfinitely so,” he said. “There is some passion in hatred. I would be quite confident of turning it into love. Do you not feel a little more than liking for me, Madeline?”
    She looked at him dumbly and waved her fan foolishly before her face. She was not at all overheated. And all the eloquence that had sustained her through dinner fled. “I don’t know,” she said at last. “I think I have been on the town for so long that I am no longer capable of knowing what I want or how I feel. I do not know what to answer.”
    â€œDo I understand that you are not saying an outright no?” he asked.
    â€œBut I am not saying an outright yes, either,” she said, fanning her face more vigorously.
    â€œWhen I broached this topic with you last year in Brussels,” he said, “you told me there was someone else. I thought soon after that you must have meant Penworth since you proceeded to betroth yourself to him. But you broke off the betrothal. Is there still someone else?”
    She frowned and snapped the fan shut. “There never was,” she said. “I lied to you. At least, I think I lied. Jason, you really do not want to be loving and marrying me, you know. I know my mind less and less as the years go on. I mean it.”
    He took her right hand and raised it to his lips. “I thought you would say yes,” he said. “You have sparkled
this evening, and I was conceited enough to think that I was the cause.”
    She looked at him uneasily. “I thought I would say yes, too,” she said. “Forgive me, please. I seem unable to say the words I intended to say. I like you, Jason. I think perhaps I even love you, or soon will. I think perhaps I will want to marry you. But I find that at the moment I cannot promise to do so, though I wish I could. I do wish I could.
I think you should put me from your mind. I do not want you to think that I am dangling you on a string.”
    He squeezed her hand, which he still held. “I will take my chances,” he said. “At least you are honest with me. I may ask you again sometime, then?”
    She frowned up at him and considered her answer with some care. “Yes,” she said, “as long as you fully understand that the answer may be no.”
    He grinned and leaned forward to kiss her lightly and tentatively on the lips. “If I ask to do that a little more thoroughly,” he said, “will the answer be no?”
    â€œNo,” she said. “I mean, the answer will be yes.”
    She gave herself up to his embrace far more deliberately than she was used to doing with the men who ever got close enough to her to be granted a kiss. She set her hands on his shoulders and her body against his. She parted her lips slightly.
    She allowed the embrace to be as long as he chose to make it. He chose to prolong it for all of a minute, and perhaps longer. Madeline examined the experience. It was far from unpleasant. It was even mildly exciting. He felt very large and strong and masculine.
    Perhaps, she thought, feeling his tongue pushing between her lips, she would find the courage when he lifted his head, to look into his eyes and tell him that she would
be his wife. She wanted to be his wife. She wanted the security of marriage with him. And it would not be unpleasant. Not by any means.
    James was dancing the opening set with Miss Cameron. The girl was looking very dainty in a fashionable