Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(64)

“For pity’s sake, Lucy. It won’t bite you.” He took the box out of her hand and opened it himself. “It’s a betrothal ring. I thought you should have one.” He glanced at the mantel clock. “Although, considering there are only eleven hours remaining in our betrothal, it now seems a bit silly.”

She stared at the ring nestled in its box. A single, round-cut ruby glowed like an ember against the black velvet, flanked by flashing diamonds. Still she made no move to take it. Finally Jeremy plucked the thick circle of gold from its bed and cast the box onto the table. He picked up her hand again and pushed the ring over her finger. “I suppose I should have chosen an emerald to match your eyes. But for some reason, the color red stuck in my mind.”

He released her hand. Lucy took a step toward the fire and lifted the ring before her face. She slowly twisted her hand back and forth, inspecting the stone in the firelight. The crimson sleeve of her dressing gown pooled down around her bare elbow. Jeremy’s blood pooled down to his groin. “If you don’t like it, I’ll buy you another,” he said.

“Another?” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “And you would, wouldn’t you?”

He shrugged. “One for every finger, if you wish.”

“I don’t need any others. I don’t even need this.” She smiled and arched an eyebrow. “But you’re never getting it away from me now.” Looking down at her hand, she waggled her fingers again. “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Nor I, Jeremy thought. The firelight gilded the lines of her profile and filtered through her hair, dusting a rubyred halo over her curls. Her neck curved gracefully over the ring as her eyes sparked with pure delight. She looked one part magpie, one part Madonna.

She glanced up at him suddenly. “Sophia doesn’t have a lover.”

Jeremy blinked. “What?”

“That’s what I came to tell you.” Her words came out in a high-pitched rush. “That letter—it was all lies. Just a product of her wild imagination and too much claret. She hasn’t been compromised by anyone. I can explain it all to Henry. We don’t have to marry.”

He paused. “Let me be certain I understand you. You think I offered to marry you to saveSophia’s reputation?”

“Well, and Toby’s engagement. He is your friend, isn’t he?”

Jeremy winced. Even now, when she was betrothed to him and wearing his ring, he hated the sound of that name on her lips. But perhaps he’d mind hearing Toby’s name less, if once—just once—Lucy would speakhis . “Our friendship doesn’t extend that far.”

“Oh.” She stared down at the ring again. “Then why are you doing this?”

He deliberately skirted her question, moving toward the bar. “It’s as I said. Ours may not be the most conventional of betrothals, but it seemed only fitting that you should have a ring.”

“Not the ring.This,” she said, looking up and gesturing into the space between them. “Why are you marrying me?”

He sighed. “Lucy, it’s not Sophia’s reputation that’s endangered. It’s yours. After what almost happened in the wardrobe … and what nearly happened in Henry’s study … I have a duty to you, as a gentleman.”

“A duty,” she repeated numbly.

“An obligation. Of honor.”

“Honor.” She straightened. “So you’re just being noble, then.”

“Yes. Or, no.” Jeremy set a glass on the table and filled it with whiskey. He corked the decanter and reached for the glass. Suddenly Lucy was there at his shoulder. “I’ve been acting rather ignoble, is the heart of the matter. And I’m sorry that you have to pay for it. But it’s the only way.”

She frowned, taking the glass from his hand and sipping thoughtfully. “But surely it isn’t. What almost happened in the wardrobe … what nearly happened in Henry’s study … No one knows, but the two of us.”

“There’s what happened in the orchard. Toby and Sophia saw that. They could tell Henry.”

“And you think Henry will care?”

“Whether he cares or not doesn’t matter. Heshould care. Weshould marry. It’s the proper thing to do.”

She looked unconvinced. “I’ve never been one to do the proper thing.”

Jeremy set out another glass and uncorked the decanter again, willing his hand to remain steady as the amber-brown liquid swirled slowly into the glass. “If you must know, there is another reason I’m marrying you. One that has nothing to do with duty or honor.”

“And what would that be?”

He fixed her with a steady look. “What almost happened in the wardrobe … What nearly happened in Henry’s study …” He paused. “I want it to happen.”

A fierce blush spread from her neck to the tips of her ears. She took a rather large swallow of whiskey. “You …” She sipped again. “Youwant me.”

“Yes.”

Her gaze slanted away, then came back to his. “You wantme.”

“Yes,” Jeremy repeated impatiently. “How many times do you want to hear it?” Not too many more, he hoped. Just speaking the word, watching her blush … Raw lust powered through his body, stiffened in his groin. As though his verbal admission were a call to arms.