The Ugly Duckling Debutante (House of Renwick #1)(32)

“Did you find any other suitors to your liking? All beliefs aside, I guess that a woman of your nature bores easily. Once we marry, I will be happy to turn the other way if you find your fancy elsewhere.”

Of all the horrible things to say, that had to be the worst he could have come up with. He felt immediate remorse after the words came out, but it was too late. Tears were already forming in little pools around her eyes. She pulled her hand back as if stung and rose from the bench.

“Wait!” He pulled her down into his lap. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” He couldn’t speak; he was useless when women became emotional. Her tears were now slowly dropping down her cheeks cascading over her sensuous lips. Instantly he wanted to pull her close and lick the salt from them. Obviously he was going mad, for it was remarkable that he would find her tears arousing, but then again, everything about her made his body respond in a physical way, why not her tears?

She tried to pull away, but he held her firm until she relaxed against his chest. “I never meant to hurt you; in fact, my intention is only to protect you. If you only understood—if you only knew!”

“Knew what?” she choked. “How much you despise me? How much you hate me? You don’t want me, but you don’t want anyone else to want me either. Will anything ever satisfy you?”

“I don’t know. I wish…” He made a sudden grab for her wrists.

She tried to pull away again. This was not going well. Before a thought of propriety could stop him, he pulled her into a deep kiss. It seemed to be the only way to silence both of them, and one of the only ways he could show her exactly how he felt, even if it meant she would know it was a part of him she would never possess. She would have passion in her life, yes, but she would never have his heart. She deserved one that wasn’t already worn and broken. After all, how could he offer her something less than whole? It wasn’t romantic nor was it fair. It had been ruined so long ago. Years of buried emotions and secrets threatened to spill out of him. His heart told him he could trust her with his secret; his head said he should have walked away when he was still able.

He tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth and smiled as she moaned. He kissed down her neck and realized his hands had ideas of their own they tangled into her hair and pulled. His logical side faded as he realized that neither of them were stopping. He should have stopped. It would have been wiser, but she was like a drug to him. The more he kissed her, the more he felt whole, as wrong as that sounded.

So he pushed her further than he should have. He pulled her into his lap until she was nearly straddling him then growled when she arched her back against him. He kissed down her neck to her chest, and down her arms. Sparks of energy flew between them. Reality no longer held them. His fingers caught onto her bodice, and he desperately pulled it down. He reached down to caress her chest, then, as if being suddenly hit on the side of the head, he froze.

She did the same. Both of them sat there for what seemed like hours before he said something. He had by then, of course, removed his hands from her bodice and returned it to its rightful place covering her body. Or most of it, for that matter; he felt his body tense as the fuzzy haze of passion lifted and his eyes met hers. Her hair was completely undone, and her dress, although not ripped, was rumpled in all the obvious places.

I’m a complete monster.

What Christian man nearly steals a girl’s innocence in the garden weeks before their arranged marriage? He felt like a fool, a dirty fool. Had he really changed? The way Sai made him feel caused some sort of animal to release inside him. He had nearly stolen something which wasn’t his. He had shamed her—shamed himself. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her in the eyes again, and then he felt her fingers on his face. She was still sitting in his lap, although this time more appropriately then before.

“Do you want to marry me?” she asked, still a little breathless.

It was a brave question, but then again, Sai was a brave woman. Any idiot could see that. There came a time in every gentleman’s life when he needed to make a choice—to be a man or to cower like a dog. Nicholas felt like his time had come. How could he answer her, yet still protect her? He couldn’t offer her what other men could offer, surely she could see that. If only she knew the reasons behind his reputation. If she knew the anger which fed his rakish passion, the reason he wasn’t whole enough to be her husband.

“Sai, I would never marry if it weren’t for you. I will marry you. Not because I love you. Although I will admit to being dangerously attracted to you.” He smiled. “But because propriety requires me to, and because, honestly, if I don’t marry you, the physical side of me might actually spontaneously combust. I want you like I've never wanted anyone in my entire life. But like I said before, love is not lust, nor do I believe they can ever co-exist.”

Sai became still and silent. “Fine.”

“Fine? Just fine?” His voice was thick with emotion and turmoil.

“I’m sorry. Did you want me to say anything else?”

“Say that you hate me. Say that I disgust you. Say that your reputation is ruined because of me. Say anything but fine!” He was yelling now. “You deserve a chance for love, can’t you see that? A man would be a fool not to fall in love with you, Sai!”

Her shocked expression told him he should have kept that last part to himself. “Any man excluding myself, of course,” he quickly added.