My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(33)

She was too intelligent, too driven to achieve a meaning in her life to be content playing the role of social matron.

Still, he could sense that she was not yet prepared to dismiss the scandal that had so altered her life.

"That does not excuse the shame that I brought to my family," she said slowly.

He gave an impatient click of his tongue. "I believe you have been more than adequately punished for any mistakes you made as a very young maiden."

"I fear that my parents would never be so forgiving."

Lucien allowed his disdain to harden his features. Someday soon he would indulge himself in confronting the Kinglys. It would be a great pleasure to reveal just how contemptible he found them to be.

"Their forgiveness is meaningless," he said sternly, his fingers grasping her chin. "It is your own forgiveness that you must seek. Allow the past to heal, Jocelyn. Only then will you find peace."

"I... I wish it were that simple."

"It is," he assured her, his expression softening as he stepped closer and smiled into her wide gaze. "The past is done. It no longer determines who you are. It is the future that you must concentrate upon."

A silence fell as Jocelyn allowed herself to consider his persuasive arguments. Lucien forced himself to remain quiet, knowing that this maiden must discover for herself that she no longer need punish herself for mistakes that were long gone. She had created the wounds and she must heal them.

At last a rueful smile curved her lips as she allowed her gaze to roam over his dark countenance.

"Who are you?" she demanded without warning.

Lucien stilled, his expression suddenly wary. "What do you mean?"

"There is something about you. Something . . . different."

"Certainly I am different from Lord Patten," he agreed, suddenly eager to distract her. She was far too shrewd not to eventually realize he was not the usual London dandy. And with the power of the Medallion slowly heightening her senses, she was even more dangerous. "I would never harm you, Jocelyn. Certainly I would never abandon you."

The dark blue eyes shimmered with a brief glow before she sternly gained command of her emotions.

"You will be gone in just a few weeks," she reminded him in cold tones.

Lucien smiled wryly. As much as he might admire this maiden for her stubborn will, there were times when it was decidedly inconvenient.

He would have to battle for every step closer he might take to her.

"I shall be here as long as you have need of me," he swore with unmistakable sincerity. "That I promise you."

Another silence descended before she was pulling free and abruptly turning about to hide her expressive countenance.

"I have built a good life for myself," she muttered, speaking more to herself than to him.

"You have created a life that is devoted to others," he corrected her with a hint of frustration.

"What of yourself?"

She lifted a slender shoulder. "I find pleasure in saving the women I do from the streets."

"And you are never lonely?"

"I... I have Meg."

Lucien gave a loud snort, considering a lifetime filled with no one but the sharp -tongued servant as companionship.

"She is no doubt a fine companion, but she cannot fulfill all your needs."

She turned to regard him with open suspicion. "Needs?"

Readily taking advantage of her proximity, Lucien wrapped his arms about her waist, bringing her close enough so he could hear the very beat of her heart.

"Enjoyment. Desire." He paused. "Love."

Her brow furrowed. "Such desires are dangerous."

He leaned his head down to rest his forehead against her own. Their breaths mingled as he allowed the sweet warmth of her to seep into his body.

"No," he denied in fierce tones. "Allowing life to slip past while you hide in fear is dangerous.

There is no more bitter regret than looking back and wondering what might have been had you dared to risk it all."

He felt her shiver even as she gave a soft, rueful chuckle. "You are very persistent, Lucien."

"Only because I know I am right."

"So confident?"

"I live in hope." Unable to resist temptation any longer, he shifted the small distance to gently cover her lips. It was an innocent caress, no more than the briefest of touches. But, as a sharp, hungry pleasure flared through Lucien, he pulled back in sudden awareness. He ached for this woman. Ached for her with a need that was becoming dangerously painful. He was playing with fire to remain so intimately close to her. Reluctantly dropping his arms, he took another step backward, his expression tight with suppressed desire. "Now, I am weary of this house. What shall we do today?"

He had the satisfaction of watching Jocelyn struggle to regain her own composure as she needlessly fussed to straighten the skirts of her peach gown.

"Well, we could go to the market for Meg, and then to the bazaar to search for clothing for the children..."

"No." He adamantly refused her brisk suggestions. The bright sunlight that slanted through the window demanded that he flee the confines of the smothering city. "I desire to leave London.

This black air is choking me."

She placed her hands upon her hips as she regarded him with a stern expression. "No more archery. I am still sore."