Free A Dark Heart by Margaret Foxe Page A

approve or disapprove of anything she did. His only job where she was
concerned was to keep her at arm’s length. And apparently his usual line of
attack needed tweaking.
     “I heard a frog had the honor of becoming your latest victim.” Bloody,
bloody hell . He cringed inwardly at his words. A frog ? Really ?
He sounded like a damned fool.
    She narrowed her eyes. “Where did you hear that?”
    He’d read it in the Times-Dispatch gossip column, but he couldn’t
tell her that. He’d never live it down. “The Earl,” he said.
    She looked unconvinced and a little perplexed. “Why would Rowan talk to
you about something like that? If we’re even thinking of the same thing,
which is doubtful. If by frog , you mean the French Duc Du Berry, and if you are implying that he asked for my hand and I refused it, that is
entirely none of your business anyway,” she said haughtily.
    “How many is that? Ten? Twelve marriage proposals?”
    She scowled and put her hands on her hips. “This conversation leads me to
two conclusions. One, that you have been reading the gossip columns as if you
were an actual human being, and two, that you have been keeping a tally of my
‘conquests’ for some perverse reason I hope never to know.”
    Touché . She had definitely been changed by her trip.
    “But I’m not human , am I, your Ladyship?” he growled, knowing
exactly how his words would wound her. It was a low blow, even for him, but he
was beginning to panic. What was he doing, arguing with her at all when he
should be halfway across the city by now?
    She winced at his words. But she continued to surprise him by standing
her ground. She actually looked a bit angry. Which was also new … and terrifying.
Her anger had the perverse effect of making him want her even more. He’d not
thought it possible.
    “I know that, Elijah,” she said softly. “Just as you know why I
must turn down all of those proposals. I can never marry.”
    “I don’t know why you must have them in the first place,” he muttered.
    He really needed to keep his mouth shut.
    “Do you think I encourage them?” she asked, clenching her hands into
fists. She was angry. “And even if I did, what do you care? You’ve made
no claim.”
    As if he ever could . For once he didn’t know what to say to her,
or how he’d fallen into this muddled conversation in the first place. Was she
suggesting that she wanted him to make a claim?
    “Why would I?” he finally managed to say.
    She shook her head, the light receding just a little bit more from her
eyes. “At least my suitors, uninspiring though they are, have hearts. You have none.”
    He felt a small tremor of hurt go through that very same organ. He would
not feel stung. The problem was that he did have a heart, though it was
slowly rotting from the inside out, just like the rest of his body.
    “For once, you’ve hit the nail on the head,” he said instead. Then he
left her, before he could make an even bigger arse of himself.

3
     
    WELL, that hadn't gone well, Christiana thought bitterly as she stared at the place Elijah
had last stood. She didn’t know how many times her heart could break before it
became impossible to mend. But she was quite sure she didn't want to find out.
She was through letting Elijah Drexler hurt her. She was through with him ,
full stop.
    She knew it was hard for him to be around her. She knew how much
he loathed her for what she'd done. Her guilt was like the proverbial albatross
around her neck, a burden she could never lift. She didn’t even deny that she
deserved it. But every venomous glare and cutting remark was like salt in the
wound.
    He didn't have to be such a bastard about it.
    Yes , she thought to herself, clenching her hands into fists. He
was a bastard. A right proper bastard.
    She was getting quite comfortable with cursing – in her mind, if
nothing else. She was still getting used to doing it out loud. A lifetime of
acting the perfect lady was a hard habit to