A Rake's Ruin (Devilish Lords #1)(32)

She blinked up at him as though he spoke another language. As if it were incomprehensible that he might want to court her or that she might deserve that sort of attention and respect.

Damn but he wanted to strangle whoever it was who’d made her feel that she deserved anything less than the very best.

“I—I suppose that would be all right,” she said.

He let out a long breath. He hadn’t realized how nervous he’d been until that moment. What would he have done if she had outright rejected his advances?

Well, he supposed once they were married he would have the rest of his life to try and get through to her but it seemed crucial that he make her see how he felt before they were bound together forever.

“Very well,” he said, pulling her close once more and reveling in the feel of her, all soft and sweet. “I will call on you tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and—”

“I believe I understand how courting works, Nicholas.” Her lips curved up slightly in a teasing smile that made his pulse race.

“Ah, but have you ever been courted by me? I think not.” He arched a brow and gave her a superior look that made her laugh. His heart soared in response. “Prepare to be wooed, my lady.”

She let out another laugh that sounded delightfully youthful and girlish, so at odds with the prim and proper young lady demeanor that he had to tamp down his own giddy response lest he scare her away. Still, he couldn’t stop his grin, which he knew was triumphant.

“I still do not understand what you hope to achieve,” she said, but her voice was laced with amusement.

“Don’t you?” he asked. He’d said more with his tone than he intended. Some of his true feelings had seeped through and he watched as some of that confusion and wariness returned.

Damn. And after he’d made such progress, too. But this was just the start. He had a full week to make her see how they could be together.

And that courtship began now. Leaning forward he trailed a line of kisses from her cheekbone down her jaw, to her ear. Once he’d reached her earlobe he nipped it, making her gasp.

He smiled, letting his lips brush against her skin. “What I hope to achieve,” he repeated, his voice musing as though he were giving it thought. As if he’d thought about anything else since they’d last parted. “I suppose I want to show you what we could be, what we could have…”

He heard her breath catch. “Our partnership, you mean?”

He gave a small nod, not moving away, enjoying the sound of her short breaths as the intimate feel of his lips brushing against her ear and neck seemed to fan the flames of her desire.

Thank God he wasn’t the only one suffering.

Her voice sounded strained, pleading almost as she repeated her earlier question. “What do you want from me?”

The clear pain underlying her words made him start. He wanted to make her happy, not torment her. Not like that, at least. He pulled away so she could see his eyes and all the emotion they held. “Oh, my dear Claire, I want you to be free.”

She widened her eyes, her mouth parting in surprise, but she did not speak.

“I want you to be free,” he repeated, trying to convey his sincerity with his eyes, with his tone. “I want to see the real Claire again, the wild woman who wasn’t afraid to challenge me. The vivacious and witty woman who drives me to distraction with her passionate ways.”

He heard her sharp inhale, felt her body tremble slightly at his words. What he wouldn’t give to see into her mind right now, to know what she was thinking. “Isn’t that what you want too?”

The question seemed to hang there between them for an endless heartbeat. Her lips parted once more but before she could speak, the door behind them swung open and she leapt out of his arms so quickly he found himself holding air.

“There you are.” Rhys frowned at him in disapproval from the doorway. “I had a feeling you couldn’t stay on the straight and narrow for long.”

His brother jerked his head toward the door leading to the ballroom. “Come on, before you are caught by someone else.”

He wanted to rip his brother’s head off in that moment but before he could respond, she was already rushing past him back to the safety of her family and his, along with the rest of the ton who were waiting to watch and whisper and judge.

He stifled a sigh as he followed behind her at a more leisurely pace. He would rejoin her on the dancefloor and continue to make the rounds. And he would tolerate it with as much patience as he could muster.

After all, this little tête-à-tête had been a success, of sorts. He’d bought himself more time.

The pale pink silk of her dress disappeared around the corner as she escaped.

He had time. Now all he had to do was make her see that she loved him.

How difficult could that be?





Chapter Nine





With each day that passed, Claire’s struggle grew more difficult. As she sat in her family’s drawing room waiting for Nicholas to visit her as he had every day, she found herself toying with her embroidery, unable to work but unable to leave it be since she needed something in her hands to fidget with lest she lose her senses altogether.

How many times now had she torn out the stitching only to do it again? She was the Sisyphus of embroidery, doomed to forever repeat her stitches, and it was all thanks to Nicholas and his maddening courtship.