My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues #2)(58)

"So you are wedding me for a more comfortable bed?" she attempted to tease.

"And what is in it," he growled softly.

She shivered. "Lucien."

He could take her. All he need do was pull her into his arms and she would readily give him all the pleasure his body ached to receive. One kiss, one touch, and she would forget all but the desire that blazed between them.

But even as the realization flared through his mind, his heart could feel the lingering hint of disquiet deep within her.

She had been branded a scarlet woman despite her innocence. And while she would never admit it, the scars still lingered. To give herself without the blessing of marriage would make her question the strength of her honor.

Swallowing a groan, Lucien was again struggling to restrain his unruly passions. Great Nefri, give me strength, he silently pleaded.

"But first there is something we must do," he said in ragged tones.

She blinked, as if startled to discover she was not being thoroughly ravaged. And he hoped a trifle disappointed.

"Oh. And what is that?"

Lucien drew in a deep breath, knowing that he was about to destroy the magic of this moment. Unfortunate, of course. But after devoting hours to thinking of joining his life with this woman, he had realized that she was not yet prepared to put her past completely behind her.

He wanted her unburdened and able to concentrate upon their future together. A future with no barriers.

"We must speak with your parents."

Her eyes widened as she abruptly sank back into the pillows. It was obvious that she was not overly delighted with the thought of confronting the mother and father who had turned their back upon her. Lucien did not blame her for her pained reluctance, but he could not waver. He did this for Jocelyn.

"My parents? Why?"

"My sweet, you cannot make peace with your future while you still harbor anger in your past," he said softly. "It will haunt you until it has been resolved."

Her lips flared at the truth she could not deny. "You desire me to beg for their forgiveness?"

"Certainly not. But neither do I desire you to continue hiding from those who shamed you."

His heart faltered as her face became pale, and the eyes darkened with distress at his stern words.

"That is absurd."

"Jocelyn." His hand lifted, only to fall as she flinched from his touch. "It is one thing to willingly turn your back upon society, and even your parents. It is quite another to be forced away."

"I have told you that it no longer matters."

"It matters to you," he said huskily. "You must confront them bravely and with your head lifted high. You must prove to yourself that you no longer fear them."

She unconsciously wet her dry lips as she reluctantly considered his persuasive argument.

"Lucien..."

"Trust me in this, my dear," he pleaded softly. "I shall be at your side."

Their gazes tangled as she battled the inner dread of confronting those who had harmed her.

Silently Lucien allowed her stormy emotions to wash through him and offered her back the strength of his unwavering love.

At last she heaved a small sigh. "Very well."

The tall, elegant town house built in the Palladian style was the largest and the most beautiful in the square.

It would have to be, Jocelyn wryly conceded, as she studied the Portland stone building standing proudly behind the wrought iron railing.

The Kinglys demanded the best in everything. From their outlandishly expensive French chef to Mrs. Kingly's ivory and gold carriage to the imported Chinese roses that graced the conservatory, they would accept nothing that was not envied by others in society.

Especially their daughter.

Jocelyn had often wondered if it was her father's lack of an aristocratic title that made them so compulsive in their need to appear superior among the ton. They often complained bitterly enough at being seated too far down the table at a dinner and forced to mix with encroaching mushrooms. And more than once her mother had refused to attend a society function when she suspected that her sister, who had married an earl, would be invited.

Their overweening pride was all-important, and nothing was allowed to tarnish the Kingly name.

Whatever the cause, Jocelyn knew they would not readily welcome home their scandal-tainted daughter. And only the steady warmth of the gentleman at her side kept her from bolting down the quiet Mayfair street.

"I am here," he whispered softly as the door to the house was opened, and a starched butler regarded her with barely concealed amazement.

Drawing in a deep breath, she forced herself to climb the stairs to enter the marble foyer.

She had lived among the most desperate thieves and murderers in all of London. She had walked paths at night that the Watch would not dare tread. She had been stalked by a crazed vampire and managed to kill him.

Surely to goodness she could face her parents.

Unconsciously squaring her shoulders, she turned to face the servant she had known since she was a child.

"Good afternoon, Scowly. I trust you are well?"

Although harshly trained by Mrs. Kingly, the butler allowed a faint smile to curve his lips. He had always been fond of Jocelyn when she was young and had often slipped her treats that were forbidden by her parents.

"Quite well. It is good to see you again, Miss Kingly."