A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(12)

They stumbled a bit and she instinctively reached out to clutch his arm as she lost her footing. She found herself pressing a hand to his chest and pulled it away quickly as if burnt.

The touch had felt far too intimate in this dark, secluded little world they’d entered. Anne had given her a tour of these gardens but that had been once and in daylight—hardly useful now. Together they stumbled their way through the brush until the music sounded clearer and voices reached them, clear as day.

Claire froze, half hidden behind a tree and completely scared into inaction. There were people out here on the terrace. Guests mingled as servants walked by with trays of refreshments.

She turned back, pressing her back to a tree trunk, finding herself face to face with Galwin.

“Everything all right?” he asked, his smile smug and his voice laced with amusement.

Annoyance helped to squelch some of her fear. Now was not the time for his ironic amusement or lazy charm. Their lives were on the line. Well, her life at least. If someone saw her coming in from the thicket of trees, she’d be ruined. And if they saw Galwin with her…

She shuddered to think of the consequences.

His gaze focused on her, moving over her face from her pinched lips to her wide eyes. “Claire, are you well?”

She shook her head. “No,” she hissed. “Of course I am not well.” She jerked her head toward the group of mingling guests nearby. “What if they spot us?”

His gaze was inscrutable and then he shrugged. “Then I suppose we shall marry.”

Her gasp was so loud she slapped a hand over her mouth to smother it. He was teasing, surely. But…

His eyes met hers. He didn’t look as though he was in jest. He looked frighteningly serious.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said.

He arched his brows. “My dear, if you and I are discovered alone together…” He looked around pointedly at their dark and secluded surroundings. “Can you think of another alternative?”

She gaped at him. He was right, of course. Though, she hadn’t expected him to admit as much. Truth be told, she would not have expected him to do the honorable thing, and she was not entirely certain she wanted him to.

He frowned at her and his tone was droll as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Really, Claire. You do not have to look so shocked, nor so horrified by the thought of marrying me.”

She blinked, not at all certain how to respond to that without being intentionally hurtful. She was in no great rush to marry anyone at all, but Galwin?

Out of the question.

He seemed to be reading her thoughts, because he let out a long sigh. “We can discuss this later, if there is a need.”

If there is a need. That gave her hope. If they could rejoin the party without being discovered, her fears could all be in vain.

He glanced over her shoulder toward the estate. “Just walk toward the crowd with confidence and ease,” he said softly. “I will be by your side, and we have nothing to feel guilty about.”

His gaze met hers and the look there was as serious as she’d ever seen it. But of course. He must be just as terrified at the idea of being caught as she was, if not more so. Neither of them wanted to be trapped in a marriage with one another.

“Remember,” he said quietly as he turned her gently to once more face the fray. “You were overcome by the heat and needed some fresh air.”

She shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her neck. Her body instantly turned molten at the touch of his hands on her arms. At least she would look the part, flushed and overheated.

“I came to your rescue,” he murmured as he gave her a nudge and led her quickly and quietly out of the brush and toward the crowd. “And now I am escorting you back inside where your family and friends will see that you are safe and well.”

She focused on his voice, forcing a small smile out of habit as she kept her head bent down.

For once, her adeptness at playing the role of a young, simpering miss was a useful skill. No one seemed to notice them passing, or at least she hoped they noticed nothing amiss.

When at last they reached the French doors leading to the ballroom, she let out a long sigh of relief.

“There,” he said close to her ear. “We managed to make it this far. Just a little further.”

His voice was oddly reassuring and his touch uncharacteristically comforting. Until, that was, someone noticed that she’d been gone.

“There you are!” Lord Swattle shouted, causing everyone near them to turn and stare. His glare was disturbingly patronizing as though he was her father and she a disobedient child.

Was it her imagination or did his gaze move past her to the garden where they’d just entered?

No, surely she was being fanciful. Still, she froze beside Galwin, just inside the entryway, unable to move as fear made her muscles turn to jelly.

Swattle crossed over to them, seemingly ignoring Galwin altogether as he reached for her gloved hand and bent over it. When he straightened his gaze had turned sickeningly fawning, though his eyes held a glimmer of something dark. “I have been looking all over for you. Where have you been?”

She parted her lips, ready to use the excuse that Galwin had provided, but found herself drawing a blank.

No, that wasn’t quite right. She did not forget what she meant to say—it was more that she found herself unwilling to say it.