Free Red Rose by Mary Balogh Page A

in the world, when his tongue pressed insistently against her lips, to open her mouth to receive it. Heat flared between them as his arms drew her closer and as she molded her body to his, thighs, hips, breasts straining for closer contact.
    His hands moved around to explore her breasts as his tongue stroked the warm recesses of her mouth. Her hands twined into his thick hair as she moved against his hands.& They were both in the grip of raw desire.
    It was Raymore who finally succeeded in pulling his mind free of his physical passion. He grasped her arms and put her from him as if she were a deadly snake. He watched her heavy-lidded eyes resume normal consciousness.
    “So!” he said, imposing iron control on his voice. “It is now crystal-clear how you have occupied your time in the country, ma’am, and why you wish to return there. How many lovers have you had to roll you in the hay?” The usual ice had returned to his eyes and his voice. “It was nicely done. Did you think to bend me to your will by offering me your body when your defiance had failed? You forget, Rosalind, that your body disgusts me.”
    Rosalind felt unexpectedly calm. “I hate you,” she said quite dispassionately. “I did not expect ever to dislike anyone as much as I do you. No one else matters in your life except the Earl of Raymore, am I not right? You were born with a heart of stone, my lord, and are totally incapable of feeling the finer emotions. Love, kindness, compassion: they must be just words to you. You think you can hurt me by making cruel references to my physical appearance? You are far more crippled than I will ever be, Edward. You do not have the power to wound me.”
    She turned and walked from the room with as much dignity as her limp would allow. She went immediately to her room, undressed without the aid of her dresser, and climbed into the big four-poster bed.

Chapter 5
    Most of the flowers and decorations that had adorned the hallways, staircase, and ballroom of the Earl of Raymore’s home had been removed by mid-morning of the following day. But they were soon replaced by the countless bouquets that began arriving before luncheon. Most of them were from gentlemen who had danced with Sylvia. Two were for Rosalind: one bouquet of pink and white carnations from Sir Rowland Axby and one of red roses from Sir Bernard Crawleigh.
    Sylvia danced into her cousin’s room at noon and pulled back the heavy curtains from the windows to let in the sunlight. “Oh, do wake up, sleepyhead,” she begged. “I am simply longing to talk to you about last night, Ros.”
    Rosalind groaned. She had not fallen asleep until long after daylight came, and even before conscious memory returned, she knew that she did not want to wake up.
    “Was it not a perfectly splendid evening?” Sylvia gushed. “All the ladies so friendly, Ros, and the gentlemen!”
    Rosalind knew from experience that there was no fighting such high spirits. She pushed herself up to a sitting position on the bed. “And with which of them have you fallen in love?” she asked.
    “Oh, I really do not know,” Sylvia replied seriously. “Mr. Hammond is very handsome and charming, but do you think he smiles too much, Ros? Lord Standen is very grand. I believe Cousin Edward favors him. He is quite distinguished-looking, too, and very elegant. Perhaps if I met him a few more times, I should be as comfortable with him as I was with his brother, Mr. Broome. Of course, I had not met him before, either, but perhaps he is more easy in his manners because he is not a lord and does not have an air of such consequence.”
    “Ah,” said Rosalind, “I did not notice that young man. Is he also handsome?”
    “Oh no,” Sylvia said candidly, “not at all. Pleasant-looking, perhaps. Ros, you should see all the flower decorations downstairs. Some from gentlemen I cannot even remember! You must come and see. There are some for you, too.”
    “Indeed!” her cousin replied dryly.