A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(10)

He stopped her with an upheld hand when she opened her mouth to protest further.

“But I promise you that your brother will be all right, and that his excursion this evening is not what you think.”

She pressed her lips together as she considered his words, as she considered him.

“You have my word of honor,” he said quietly. “Your brother will come to no harm this evening.”

Claire wavered. He seemed so certain, but then again Galwin always seemed sure of himself. But just because he assured her that Jed would not fall deeper into trouble did not mean she had to believe him.

Yet she did believe him. She trusted him, even. Inexplicably she’d found herself believing him to be honest, despite the fact that he was a notorious rake.

A rake, perhaps, but he’d never lost large sums at the gaming tables like her brother. And he’d never put his family’s wellbeing in jeopardy, as far as she knew.

But then, his family’s reputation was still recovering from the scandal surrounding his father all those years ago. She did not recall much about it as it had happened when she was a young child, but she had a general impression that his family suffered from whispers and rumors just as much as hers had. And in both cases it was thanks to their fathers. Though Galwin’s father had been proven innocent of the charges, whereas her father was a known philanderer and her siblings’ very existence served as living proof.

She peeked up at her brother’s friend from beneath her lashes. Galwin’s vices were well known. He flouted his excessive enjoyment of drinking, cards, women, and other debaucheries. But despite all that, she did not believe him to be a liar.

He was a rake, no more and no less.

He was a rake who had kissed her.

Her lips tingled at the memory and she resisted the urge to lift her hand and touch them, as if to ensure she had not been dreaming. Even now, mere minutes afterward, and she found herself wondering. Had that really happened? Had it really been as delicious as she’d imagined?

And then—so that was what all the fuss was about. Up until tonight her only kiss had been the one Lord Swattle had stolen that illfated night several months ago when she had been desperate for a suitor and he had been…well, just desperate, it seemed.

Normally the thought of his slimy lips pressed to hers was enough to make her ill, but tonight’s kiss seemed to have wiped away that odious image. Now when she thought of kisses she would think of tonight’s embrace—something so warm, so tender, so overwhelming in its intensity, it felt as if something straight out of a dream.

That, she concluded, was her first kiss.

She wasn’t sure what Lord Swattle’s awkward embrace could be categorized as, but it could not exist in the same realm as what had occurred tonight, let alone share the same definition.

“Claire.” Galwin’s low voice sent a bolt of heat through her core. She felt her cheeks warm. Good heavens, was she always going to have this sort of visceral reaction to Galwin now? Perhaps that was some sort of side effect that came from delicious kisses.

No wonder Mama and the other matrons of society so frowned upon it. A kiss like that could render a girl witless. It could addle her brain and make her believe that she felt more than she really did.

Galwin shifted, leaning forward so she had a better view of his face as the glow from streetlamps came and went in the carriage. “Claire, about tonight—”

Oh dear. He looked…worried. It was not an emotion she was accustomed to seeing on those roguish features and the sight alarmed her. A confident, arrogant, smug Galwin she knew well. This man was another matter altogether. His brows drew together as he peered at her through the flickering shadows. “About that kiss—”

Ah, so that was it. She felt her lips twitching with amusement at his obvious distress. Poor man. He probably believed that she would make a to-do out of that kiss. Perhaps he thought she now had feelings for him.

The thought was laughable.

She watched him for a moment longer, amused at his obvious struggle to figure out how best to handle this situation and it was easy to see why. She was his best friend’s sister, after all. And while she might not be a titled lady, she was now the sister-in-law to the Earl of Davenport. From the rumors she’d heard, she could easily assume that she was not the typical sort of woman he kissed in back alleys.

And she had no doubt that he’d kissed other women in back alleys, and often if his talents were anything to go by. Her breath hitched in her throat at the memory of his skillful hands moving over her with an assuredness that was both intimidating and exciting.

Intimidating only in the sense that it made her keenly aware of her own inexperience. Once again she was forced to face the fact that he most likely chose more experienced, worldly women to kiss and…well, do other things. It was no wonder his handsome features looked so strained. The poor man must be having a crisis of conscience. Heavens, watching him figure out how to handle this honorably was almost painful to watch.

She heard his long inhale, as though he were steadying himself for what was to come. “Claire, I am sorry for—”

“Please don’t.” She hadn’t meant to interrupt, but really—the thought of hearing him apologize for such an incredible moment was too difficult to bear. She knew it would not happen again, nor did she want it to.

No, that was a lie. She desperately wanted to experience that again, but she would not. Not with him, at least. It could not happen again, but she would not regret that it had happened. For now she knew what a proper kiss entailed.