My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(35)

"No." He captured her gaze with ease. "You are without a doubt the most remarkable woman I have ever encountered."

Unaccustomed to such blatant flattery, Jocelyn shifted uneasily. "Hardly remarkable."

"Do not contradict me," he commanded in arrogant tones. "Not only do you risk your own well-being each evening when you go onto the streets, you have been the savior to women who had no hope. They have a future because of you."

"I pray you are right," she retorted, her thoughts turning back to the women they had just left behind. They had endured so much. Far more than any maiden should have to bear. Only time would determine if they could overcome the pain in their lives. "They deserve a measure of happiness."

That tender expression that always stole her breath softened the elegant features.

"Happiness that you have given to them. I do not know any other woman who could have accomplished so much." He reached out to remove the forgotten glass of champagne from her hand and placed it upon the grass with his own. "Not only have you taken them from the streets, you have offered them a home and allowed them to learn skills that will keep them provided for the future."

She ducked her head as she felt a childish blush steal into her cheeks. This gentleman managed to make her feel like a gullible schoolgirl.

"Lucien, please. I do only what I can."

"And modest as well," he murmured softly. "A most potent combination."

"You are being a fool," she chided in flustered tones.

There was a moment's pause before Jocelyn felt a warm hand cup her chin and gently press her countenance upward.

"Look at me, Jocelyn," he commanded.

Slowly she lifted her heavy lashes to meet the eyes that glowed with a pure golden light in the falling dusk.

"What?"

"Be proud of what you have accomplished," he said firmly. "Be proud of who you have become. It is far more worthy than being the neglected wife of some mindless dandy."

She paused as she pondered his words.

It was true that the road she traveled had not been the one she had expected to. Certainly she could never have dreamed as a child she would one day live in the dark streets of St. Giles with only an elderly servant as company.

Still, she could not deny that she found it difficult to think of herself in an elegant town house with nothing to occupy her mind beyond the cut of her dress and the latest gossip.

Could she ever have been satisfied with such an existence?

Could she have found joy in tending to a husband who preferred his life at his club and his mistresses while she chatted over tea and flitted about dance floors?

Her life might not have been of her choosing, but Jocelyn knew in her heart that it provided a sense of accomplishment that she never could have found in the more fashionable world.

"Yes," she at last breathed softly.

A sudden expression of satisfaction rippled over Lucien's countenance before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her own.

Caught off guard, Jocelyn did not even make a pretense of resisting the sweet caress. She did not desire to resist, she fuzzily acknowledged.

Tantalizing warmth shimmered through her blood, a burst of excitement exploding within her stomach. Her lips parted in silent invitation, and with a fractured groan Lucien gathered her in his arms.

"You taste of champagne," he murmured against her mouth.

Her hands rose to clutch his shoulders. She struggled to think through the fog of pleasure that clouded her mind.

"Lucien."

"Yes, Jocelyn?"

"It... it is growing late."

He gave a soft laugh, his warm breath sweetly brushing over her sensitive lips.

"Yes, it is. I have waited too long to hold you in my arms."

She felt lost in the golden heat of his eyes, longing for nothing more than to remain pressed against the strength of his hard form. This was where she truly belonged, she inanely acknowledged. The only place she desired to be.

Alone with this man who had filled her empty heart with joy.

Nearly overwhelmed by the stark realization, she struggled to break the spell of enchantment.

"You have won no bets," she reminded him in breathless tones.

His brows rose in a teasing fashion. "Ah, you have forgotten. Earlier I wagered that I would discover your small farm fascinating, and I assure you that I did so."

She gave a choked laugh at his absurdity. "That was no genuine wager."

"Of course it was," he argued, his hands stroking the curve of her back. "And now I demand my forfeit."

Jocelyn shivered in delicious anticipation. "I do not believe that you play fair, sir."

"Why, Miss Kingly, surely you do not accuse me of cheating?"

It was decidedly difficult to keep her mind upon the playful conversation when those hands continued to trail up and down her spine and the temptation of his lips were only a breath away.

"You are certainly swift to take advantage of the situation," she accused him.

"I must need be swift with you, my dove. You are far too elusive for my liking."

She searched the dark countenance, wondering why she did not feel the panic or even reluctance that had plagued her since the scandal. Surely she had not forgotten just how dangerous desire could be to a young maiden?