A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(19)

But even before she sought out a husband, she needed…more. She wanted to enjoy this new feeling of freedom, with its heady feeling of expansion and weightlessness.

And? The voice taunted. What else do you want?

It was the smug voice of one who already knows the answer.

She sighed loudly once more, this time in exasperation.

She wanted kisses. One kiss was not enough. And not just any kisses, she wanted more kisses with one man in particular.

Maybe if she were to have one more proper kiss with the man she could shake this feeling that something was missing, that he had walked away too soon.

She rubbed a hand over her chest where her heart felt too big and her pulse too rapid.

She didn’t like this aching feeling as though something were missing. But there was no denying that it had come about when Galwin had walked away from her.

Surely what she needed to feel right again was one more kiss and perhaps one more conversation just to set things to right. They’d been interrupted too soon. There was so much more to be said, and so much more she wanted to hear.

Like it or not, he fascinated her. The man might be a rake, but he was an intelligent rake. And he had a surprisingly gentle side to him. Her mind insisted on replaying the way he’d held her in his arms, the way he’d held her as she’d struggled, the way he’d saved her from Swattle and swept her along to the music as though he’d been built to dance with her.

Utterly preposterous nonsense.

But as much as she scolded herself, even the rational part of her mind could not argue with her logic. If she were to get over this belated rebellious phase, if she were to put Galwin firmly out of her mind, if she were to move on to the point where she could settle down with a husband and family as she intended… well then, there was nothing for it.

She would have to kiss Galwin again.





Chapter Six





Galwin just wanted to make sure Claire was safe. That was the only reason he followed her into the earl’s private area.

At least, that was what he told himself.

But the truth was, he’d been watching her from afar ever since he’d walked away from her. Something in him refused to let her be.

He was fascinated. Obsessed, even. And, it could not be denied, he was also inexplicably and overwhelmingly possessive. A rare trait, indeed.

As soon as he walked away it occurred to him that someone else might ask her to dance. He hovered nearby to see who the upstart would be so he could ensure she was in good hands.

Again, that was what he told himself.

But no one approached her, quite surprisingly considering her beauty, and she seemed content to make conversation with her sister.

He’d watched her for far too long from his perch on the balcony. Were he not a gentleman, he might have been mistaken for some nefarious lurker with unsavory intentions.

But he was a gentleman, he assured himself as he watched her head down a private hallway. And as such it was his duty to ensure that she was safe. After all, that Swattle fellow could have seen her slip away just as he had. He could have been following her, too, and whereas Galwin’s intentions were noble—mostly—he had no doubt that the other man’s were not.

It did not take a genius to see the evil in the baron’s eyes. He’d seen the malice clear as day when Claire had claimed her dance card was full. It wouldn’t surprise him if the oaf lashed out in some way. And if he did, Galwin intended to be near.

It wasn’t until he was hovering before the closed door he’d seen her slip through that he was forced to face the truth.

While he was concerned for her safety, the correct thing to do would be to send one of her sisters after her. Or even one of her brothers or her brother-in-law. There were plenty of people at this ball who could look after Claire, and all of whom had more of a right to that honor than he.

His hand hovered over the doorknob.

He should leave her be, but he could not. Even as he struggled with his decision, he knew what he would do.

He was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Whatever had happened tonight between them, it was nothing he’d ever experienced before.

It was love.

He nearly scoffed aloud at the thought. Of course it wasn’t love.

Wasn’t it?

He found that he couldn’t argue the point, not even within himself. Perhaps Claire was right and the emotion was based on natural urges. Maybe this was just desire… But he did not think so.

He was fascinated by her intelligence, her wit, her passion. The way her wild abandon tonight so thoroughly contradicted everything he’d thought he knew about this woman.

He grasped the doorknob, still uncertain of what he would say to her, only knowing that something needed to be said. Or done.

His mind called up an image of those perfectly plump lips. Perhaps he just needed to kiss her again to sort out this jumble of emotions that had turned into a raging inferno over the course of one evening. He started to twist the knob. Yes, he would kiss her, and perhaps then he’d know the right words to say—something to appease this feeling that the night had ended much too quickly and without any sort of resolve.

He needed some sort of resolution with this woman. Some sort of understanding.

He drew in a deep breath. He needed to know if she felt the same.

“I would not go in there if I were you.”

The deep, quite frankly terrifying voice behind him was unmistakable. One did not call him the devil for nothing. Davenport was glowering when Galwin whipped around to face him.