A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(26)

Knowing all this, she could go into this marriage with her eyes open.

This thought helped calm her so that when she spoke again, it sounded far more sincere. “I am quite all right,” she said in the face of Galwin’s searching stare. The genuine concern in his gaze made her heart ache. He was already testing her resolve, it seemed.

“We should talk about this,” he said. “There is much to discuss. I think perhaps you have—”

A knock at the door cut into his speech and reminded them both that Davenport was on the other side. If they were too quiet for much longer, she had no doubt he would come charging in here with fists raised, ready to protect her honor.

“We should talk,” she said in her calmest, most demure tone. “And we shall. But perhaps this evening is not the appropriate time.”

His expression turned quizzical but she didn’t miss the flash of amusement in his eyes at her expense. “No, perhaps not.”

She pursed her lips at the teasing in his voice. He was mocking her proper tones and her docile demeanor again. But she did not want to laugh, she didn’t even want to smile. Their lives were effectively ruined and it was all her fault. How could he be laughing at a time like this?

“Very well then,” she said, making a move toward the door to tell Davenport what had been decided, as if he didn’t already know.

But Galwin stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm. “Claire, wait.”

She spun around to face him. “What is it? We should—”

He pulled her against him and kissed her hard. The kiss made her forget what she’d been about to say or do. It made her forget where she was and what her name was, for that matter.

The kiss was brutal in its intensity. It ran roughshod over her intentions to not feel anything for this man. She couldn’t help but feel. All she could do was feel. Her body exploded with sensations as his lips moved over hers with a possessive sweep of his tongue. He laid claim to her mouth as though sealing the agreement.

She was his now, his lips seemed to say.

Her response was instant and irrational. Her lips meeting his, her mouth welcoming him like he was a missing piece of her.

Yes, her lips said in return, she was his in body and in soul.

And she liked it far, far too much.





Chapter Eight





Galwin’s older brother watched him from across the drawing room, his dark eyes fixed on him as he sipped his drink. “You are getting married,” Rhys said.

Galwin took a sip from his own snifter in lieu of a response. His brother had repeated the same statement several times now, with varying degrees of emphasis on different syllables. You are getting married? You are getting married. You…getting married.

Galwin waited patiently for his brother to fully digest this information, for clearly he was having difficulties comprehending the simple concept. Of course, he could understand his brother’s surprise. If anyone was expected to announce a forthcoming betrothal it was Lord Rhys, the Earl of Callan.

Not only was he older, but he would inherit the dukedom, and with it all the responsibilities of producing an heir. Sadly, given their father’s ill health these past few years, it seemed his brother’s new title would come sooner than anyone would have liked.

Rhys pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “You are just doing this to gain favor with mother.”

Galwin rolled his eyes. While it was true that their mother had been eager to see her sons wed, he would hardly make a decision that would affect the rest of his life based solely on seeing her smile, lovely as her approval might be.

No, the duchess had resigned herself to her younger son’s rakish ways years ago and he had been happy to live down to her lowered expectations. Honestly, he was a little afraid that now he was getting married, she might start to think he would change his ways altogether and become a stodgy old bore like Rhys.

He couldn’t let that happen. Perhaps at the ball tonight he should do something outrageously wicked just to ensure she didn’t get the wrong impression with this impending marriage.

He scowled down at his drink as he realized that now that the banns had been called, his actions tonight would reflect on Claire as well.

Ah well. His run as a rake had been diverting while it lasted, he supposed. His scowl turned into a smile as he realized he would see Claire at the ball tonight. He hadn’t seen her since the day after the Davenport ball when he had paid an official visit to Jed, with Davenport in attendance, and the marriage contract had been settled.

It still made him laugh to remember Jed’s expression when he’d announced that he would be marrying Claire. Though the laughter faded quickly as he recalled every awkward encounter since then. Once the business of arranging the marriage was done, Jed had shut him out entirely.

Worse than that, he hadn’t seen Claire since that morning, either. And that meeting had been entirely unsatisfactory. Fully chaperoned, the words spoken between him and his future bride had been as unfulfilling as the pastries she’d served him with his tea.

That rankled, but he had done as Davenport had suggested—or rather ordered—and kept his distance to give her time to adjust to their new circumstances.

That wasn’t entirely true. He hadn’t blindly followed Davenport’s decree and left her alone. He’d tried to visit but had been told she was not receiving visitors. Still, perhaps Davenport had a point. She had gone through a number of changes these past few months, and now to be suddenly engaged and to a man not of her choosing…well, it was only fair that she be given time to adjust to the idea.